At my school – an all boy type institution – you fell into one of three camps. You might have been an indie-loving sort – rubbish at football and with enormous sideburns to prove you didn’t care about sport. You could’ve been a games-lesson-loving trendy with your facial furniture shaved to the ear so that not a single wisp of sidie adorned your non-hippy head. Or, finally, you may have been a ‘grebo’ – a metaller who broke all the rules and grew hair long, neatly trimming undergrowth with a devastating operation called an undercut – a number one or two all the way around the area below your scalp.

Mr Frank Musik, it seems, is stuck somewhere between these three schoolboy stages.

It’s impossible to comment on this not-entirely-unpleasant single without mentioning it. It’s like a suede toupee, PVA glued to the scalp, catching the eye like a fly floating past the television. It rather overshadows the music, this cut, which isn’t difficult as it sounds like an inoffensive Lloyd-Webber vocal grafted over a directionless Eurodisco loop. The kind of thing you might hear as you wait outside Topshop as the woman in your life spends an eternity deciding nothing in there’s good enough for her.

But then – hark! Is that Holly Vallance?

The appearance of the Aussie beauty, previously thought lost forever, casts a new light on the song, on the video, on Frank, on the WHOLE DAMNED THING! Suddenly I thoroughly approve of Frank and his Musik. And I like watching Holly beating up muggers unconvincingly.

So hats off to Frank Musik. I lift my weird toupee in your direction, for giving some paid work to an antipodean actress who briefly rocked my world. In the 90s.