Scientific research by way of watching Top of the Pops, Part Two.

Tonight I sat with eager anticipation. Eager and keen anticipation. What was the cause of this anticipation? Well the banner headline above should steer you in the right direction - it's 1977!

Yes, 1977 has arrived on BBC Four in the form of TotP 1977. I've heard all about '77: Punk, the changing of the guard music-wise, the Queen's Silver Jubilee and the Pistols signing with EMI outside Buck House. All famous iconic images.

Gallagher and Lyle kick things off, and you know what? It's alright. In fact it's pretty good. Next up, however is Barry Biggs.

Barry bastard Biggs. Who the hell is Barry Biggs? He looks like a black Alexei Sayle, but doesn't sing as well as he does. This isn't looking good, I'm thinking. And as if to compound this feeling of dread, David Hamilton tells me with a straight face, A STRAIGHT FACE mark you, that next up is Pussycat.

Pussycat, a strange and somewhat pisspoor Dutch band. Several chaps playing several different guitars, and three women out front. And not a single looker.











Which brings me to Legs and Co. I'd heard tell of these beauties from being a small lad. "Oooh, Legs & Co. Bloody lovely" I can still hear my dad cry. Not a single bloody one of them has a pair of t*ts to their name. Shocking and frankly wrong.

Oh, and David Soul is number One. Don't Give Up On Us?

I think I will, thanks.