The moment my Bullworker arrived in at Balham flat in the late ‘60s, was the moment I believed I could win Opportunity Knocks.

Every Friday I’d watch the programme and get inspired by the weekly winners. 

Given I was only 11 in 1968, I could hardly go on and sing a song about nostalgia as Mary Hopkins did.  (She was very good in the ITV show where she played a ghost detective).

I’d have sung Mother of mine, except there were so many things my mum did which were either a secret or couldn’t be mentioned before the nine-o’clock watershed; plus I haven’t got the legs to wear a kilt.

Science was not a strength of mine at school; even learning very elementary physics, I could not understand how the “Clapometer” worked.  I assumed there were a team of hamsters working it from behind?  The louder the claps, the more the hamsters ran on their wheels?

I look back and think about the Muscle Man, Tony Holland, and the fact he might have had more credibility if he’d had another winner’s name – Bobby Crush. 

Still, we did learn that someone saying “and I mean that most sincerely, folks” probably didn’t.

Vote, vote, vote.