The other song is Jonathan King's bewildering anti-tabloid tract, The True Story of Harold Shipman, in which the disgraced pop mogul outlines his sceptical approach to the media by penning a jaunty little number about Britain's most prolific serial murderer. Say what you like about old wonky gob, but he hasn't half rustled up a toe-tapper. It would make a fantastic entry for Eurovision, if only its lyrics weren't a) horrendously upsetting and b) written and performed by a convicted sex offender.

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