One summer evening in 1973, teenagers all over Britain watched wide-eyed and dads spluttered into their tea mugs when a stick-thin, wheyfaced David Bowie put his arm around Mick Ronson during Starman on Top Of The Pops, ushering in a new glam rock era of androgyny and menace.
It was a fearsome voyage, the North Sea was in a bad mood, and it was amiserable, wheyfaced The Great Lie by Myrrha Stanford-Smith troupe that straggled ashore in Amsterdam.
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