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If you’ve ever wanted to appreciate Ian Dury’s art as a lyricist and performer then a Blockheads Karaoke night is the way to do it. Nose: much less varnish and more roundness although it seems to be just as oaky as the 17. Prunes, walnut skin, soft curry, dried oranges, ginger. Nice notes of marzipan, lily of the valley, hot bread crust… Gets better, on raspberries ganache, praline and nougat. There’s a touch of smut - ‘My baby took my cornet, now she can’t blow my horn’ (actually I just might have made that up) but nothing too shocking, and a predictable degree of 1950’s schoolboy xenophobia.

Most I think have come down the hill from Hampstead – there are the young self consciously overdressed fashion victims, and the older beards and baggy trousers crew (and that’s just the ladies – boom boom! So it’s North London’s upper middle class Guardian hugging chattering classes (who adore Jarvis almost as much as the Guardian) par excellence – and of course they spend most of the night chattering.

And some of the arrangements are stunning – the glockenspiels and vibraphone on the very pretty ‘Baby’s coming home’ perhaps, or the use of the bells on ‘Black magic’. It’s a ghastly pastiche of I don’t know what, and with its green flock wallpaper and shiny candelabra light-fittings looks more like the Embassy Suites somewhere in Tottenham High Road than a sophisticated or elegant night-spot.

Oh yes – and in the background there’s some very funky guitar stuff going on too. Jarvis is extremely hot in France indeed, as Pulp was, but I didn't know he's living in Paris, although now that you mention it, he's really looking like a 1950 Saint-Germain-des-Prés misunderstood artist. Alright, it’s maybe not the total stunner it used to be – or my tastes have changed – but it’s still well worth 90 points in my books.‘Meet the man who made bourbon worth wrapping in a Holiday Decanter. And of course it is sophisticated – because it’s home to regular performances by the new wave of burlesque artistes, or strippers (as my mother also used to say), providing ironic titillation to the tittering classes of Hoxton and the like.

Today it’s a five piece outfit, with Bob on cornet, trombone, saxophone, guitars and teapot, The Professor (“probably the funniest man in the world” it says on the website) playing clarinet, saxophone and saw, Malcolm Sked on sousaphone and bass, Bert Lamb on keyboards and Henri Harrison and drums.

Bob was a member of the earliest Bonzo line-ups, but left in 1966 to join the New Vaudeville Band which in turn led to the formation of the Whoopee Band, which featured at one time or another fellow Bonzos Sam Spoons and Vernon Dudley Bohay-Nowell.

”We could hear him almost as well as we could Jarvis.

Despite the ungainly interior of this old hulk, like some beached grande dame, the sound was excellent – you could hear every word Jarvis sang, despite the fact that the whole set was seriously loud.

Perhaps I should add here that it was also fantastic – a top ten gig of the year – made all the more enjoyable by the fact that Jarvis Cocker cuts an unlikely figure for a rock and roll star – but boy, can he rock.