"Do you remember the first time?"

"Do you remember the first time?"

I've spent much of my adult life telling people that the first record I ever bought was the none-more-cool "Pop Muzik" by M. This, alas, is an outrageous lie. The truth of the matter is somewhat different, and not a little shameful.

I remember the day well: my brother, sister and I took money earned over the Easter holidays to WH Smiths in Henley and made the following vinyl purchases:

Jill: "Pop Muzik" - M
Nigel: "Sunday Girl" - Blondie
And here comes the woe…
Self: "Nice Legs, Shame about the Face" - The Monks

Christ on a bike - no wonder I spent all those years lying to all and sundry about such a pivotal moment in my life. In the same circumstances, I'm pretty sure you would too.

At least my first album "Kings of the Wild Frontier" by Adam and the Ants had a certain street cred to it at the time, and possession of A. Ant's finest work earned me temporary promotion to Emperor of Cool with my schoolyard contemporaries. Then came Prince Charming, and the old order was resumed once more. And alas for my first album, it didn't survive my brother scratching it, and it was a good twenty years before it was replaced by a nostalgic CD purchase. He also did for my second album - "Dare!" by the Human League. Cheers, bruv.

[I am, at this point, brushing over parental purchases by way of birthday and Christmas presents, which in the great scheme of things don't really count. We're talking The Muppet Show Album, which may possess a certain retro chic these days, but arrived at a time when my best friend was hammering his head to his newly-acquired Deep Purple discs. A present from his parents, it turned out.]

It was also in this twenty year period that my memory was jogged by a startling discovery at my father's house.

Rummaging through an old bookshelf - never touched for years - was a box of mostly sleeveless records. The majority were purchased in the 60s when my parents were medical students who spent most of their time at toga parties; but there, at the bottom, in its stiff card sleeve, was a disc I'd completely forgotten about. Rolf Harris. Two Little Boys. And under that, one I'd bought.

Purchased with saved pocket money from Hickie's Music Shop on Friar Street in Reading, while my mother waited patiently: "The Ying Tong Song" by The Goons.

My first ever single. In your face, The Monks! Coolness totally restored by Spine Milligna, the famous spelling mistake, mayherestinpeace.

And, seeing as I've just spent 433 words telling of my musical redemption, it's now time to tell me yours. Cool or crap? Confess-me-up!