Junior’s searing assessment of Vince Clarke’s last Depeche Mode hurrah was “Baaa” – which at least makes the sentence rhyme. I pressed further, asking if she actually liked it, and was hit with the hammer blow: “No. I like The Beatles and Girls Aloud.” So we’re closing the blog.
Before I go, I’ll make some grand claims about this irrepressible little number being the Essex root of Detroit techno, and mention how Vince left the band after penning it because he didn’t like the direction they were headed in. Presumably he’d seen Martin Gore’s leather skirt. As he wavered at the door he wondered if they’d like to record his new tune ‘Only You’, but – for better or worse – we were spared Dave Gahan attempting to emote on us. It would’ve been funny at least.
Dear me: I almost forgot The Saturdays, when the poor girls have got at least another couple of months in the public conscious. It’s a breathtakingly faithful cover, somehow tinnier than the original and all for good causes. Will that do?
Slippin’ and slidin’:
Jukebox Junior 
Christ. A million awful discos, full of lagered up twats bellowing “SEX” after every chorus of this song. Every line, even. And them “Living Next Door to Alice”.
1980s Ireland was a grim place. I can’t listen to this. And I won’t even mention The Four Of Us covering it.
Tough memories, dude. At least a couple more disco staples to come.
It’s not Depeche Mode’s fault. Nor yours. And tht awful music provided the backdrop to a series of grimy teenage fumblings that I remember with increasing fondness, so it can’t be all bad.