He had mutton chop sideburns, a vast quiff and was dressed in black leather, even down to murderers’ gloves, over which he wore enormous silver rings, which he then wiggled in a beckoning fashion while staring suggestively into the camera.
Nevermind hiding behind the sofa during Dr Who – for me, in December 1973, as a six-year-old nurtured on bubblegum pop, the debut appearance on Top of the Pops of Alvin Stardust, with his rock’n’roll Child Catcher look, was the most menacing thing I had ever seen.
In the 1990s he found God – at Waterloo Station apparently, a place where one might be more likely to experience a loss of faith
Frightening in a dark panto way it may have been – but its performer was a concoction. ‘Alvin Stardust’ was a character, the name crudely drawn to attempt to tap into the success of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album from the previous year and graft a bit of his glam stylings onto the older rock’n’roll sound and look of a Gene Vincent.
Get Britain's best politics newsletters
Register to get The Spectator's insight and opinion straight to your inbox. You can then read two free articles each week.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in