[11] Malcolm McLaren, ‘Madam Butterfly’

One of Talcy Malcy’s grand follies. He’s had loads, hasn’t he? “I know, hip-hop sounds just like country dancing! Hmm, that Vivienne Westwood’s rather cute. What if I did a record about a skipping troupe, with Soweto singing? I’ve had this idea that I could mix house music with Strauss. No, it doesn’t sound like Hooked On Classics at all. This is a good one: it’s about the history of Oxford Street, only with Alison Limerick singing and the Happy Mondays being the Bee Gees. What about these chaps? Yes, I know he’s ginger, but he isn’t half nasty and anarchic and that.”

This is a brilliant conceit. Junior even flexes her knees to it. Go on, track it down; it’s even better now.

I met Malcolm McLaren at a dinner party about six years ago. He’s a pleasant old duffer.

[12] Wham!, ‘Last Christmas’/’Everything She Wants’

‘Everything She Wants’ is the song on the tape. Still a stuff-strutter now, it had Junior beaming and doing the David Gray head-wobble, even though George doesn’t sound sold on the whole baby thing himself.

Continues a theme, this: George’s fear of commitment. He ridiculed it in ‘Young Guns’ and clung on to the lads-together life in ‘Bad Boys’, now he thinks he’s stuck and, hey, maybe he’s wrestling with his sexuality too. Anyway, here’s a boy trying to break free. He claimed he wasn’t “planning on going solo” on an earlier 1984 song, then promptly released ‘Careless Whisper’. After this single, Wham! were on the way out, their next single put out with a simultaneous announcement that the following single would be the last. Now he’s spent the last decade wrangling with the record industry. George doesn’t like to feel restricted.

1984 was a bumper year for sales. This was one of SIX million-selling singles in the calendar year, second only to Band Aid. The others were ‘Careless Whisper’, ‘I Just Called To Say I Love You’ and, erm, two records still to come.

[13] Sister Sledge, ‘Thinking Of You’

And this is a genuine Chic knock-off; a re-release from 1979, but I suppose I didn’t know at the time. Junior doesn’t pay it the blindest bit of attention, and who can blame her? It’s a frothy irrelevance that sounds sparky at a wedding, or squeezed between ‘Le Freak’ and ‘Going Back To My Roots’ at Studio 54. I know, I was there.

It had another revival in the early ’90s when every record company was giving its new singles to Joey Negro to turn into disco house monsters. He managed to make the Brand New Heavies sound exciting and everything.

[14] Pointer Sisters, ‘Automatic’

I’d seen enough of Boy George and Marilyn by 1984 to recognise a man in drag. Imagine my surprise when this lot turned out to be genuine sisters, albeit with fierce looks and a vocal range to embarrass Rula Lenska.

The song has dated but it’s still a stirring mix of Chic, electro and Jam & Lewis, as if it passes the baton from disco to modern r’n’b. The delivery is robotic, the lyrics listing the mechanics of lust; if they’d kept the fourth member, they could’ve been the Barbies to Kraftwerk’s Kens.

There’d been a Valentine’s Day airing of Will Young’s ‘All Time Love’, but this was the first record today that had Junior beating the sides of the inflatable. She likes a faster tempo, and she can empathise with pushing “a stream of absurdities” from one’s lips. She’s definitely saying “Dada”, though.

[15] Lloyd Cole & The Commotions, ‘Forest Fire’

Junior sat transfixed at the audacity of Lloyd’s wordplay and the shocking absence of dropped names. Not an Eva Marie Saint nor Norman Mailer in sight. As the song picked up, she livened up with an array of bounces, but there weren’t enough huge clanging chords to really get her excited. It’s a slow-burner of a record, aptly enough, and one for the more serious-minded teenager.

I thought it was romantic as hell back then, even though my closest brushes with affairs of the heart were limited to sending Valentines to girls I’d never met. Not so much stalking as a love as yet unspoken.

This didn’t even trouble the charts, but it’s a great song and quietly important to me. Lloyd was often at my shoulder over the next few years, helping me with my lovelorn poetry. Would’ve been nice if he’d exercised some quality control over it, mind you.

[16] U2, ‘Pride (In The Name Of Love)’

The high chair was today’s listening platform. Junior did her side to side move, as if she’s trying to dodge you on the basketball court, and was as enthused with the stadium rock power as ever.

‘New Year’s Day’ was the first U2 single I heard, and I hated them. I liked this song and ‘The Unforgettable Fire’ but hated them again in time for the next year’s arrogant, show-stopping Live Aid performance. Bono’s antics at Live Aid made me cringe. My mum was in hospital waiting to give birth to my brother, and my nonplussed dad let me sit in front of the TV all day. I remember him being rather taken with Madonna, able to identify her whenever she appeared on Top Of The Pops after that. Quite a feat when you consider that he usually thought that all pop stars were Cliff Richard.

He even let me sleep on the sofa that night so I could catch the Philadelphia concert, and particularly Duran Duran. I knew I wouldn’t make it so I set my alarm clock, but – portending my adult future – I slept right through it. I was gutted. Still haven’t seen Duran Duran’s bit. Was it any good?

Back to 1984. ‘Pride’ is one of those huge, undeniable records that will have you nodding your head, hate it or love it. Junior and I got into it, air drums on the tray, but we’ve probably heard it enough now.

[17] Queen, ‘Radio Ga Ga’

The brainchild of the producer’s producer Trevor Horn, the Buggles took this to No.1 in 1979 and invented Daft Punk in the process. It is often derided as a novelty record, but this poignant slice of early electronica broke barriers and melted video age hearts.

Oh SORRY, Roger, was ‘Radio Ga Ga’ inspired by your baby son’s infant ramblings? Silly me. Actually, Queen go a stage further and are nostalgic for good radio, not any old radio. They update their sound with the synths, but can’t resist a typical massed clapalong. Ah, it’s ok.

I’m going to record a song based on Junior’s newfound vocabulary. Entitled ‘Radio Dada’, it will be an absurdist conceptual piece railing against the bourgeoisie and the conservatism of Magic FM.

[18] Wham!, ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’

A sunny blast of springtime euphoria or annoying drivel from a couple of over-coiffed chancers in Choose Life t-shirts? It’s a quandary that has vexed musicologists for decades. Wham!’s first No.1 reminds me of the days when my parents’ old RAF colleagues used to visit with their children, and my big sister would choreograph a routine for the kids to perform.

I wonder whether Junior will be the winningly bossy older sister. She could do worse. God knows I needed a kick up the backside from time to time, even if it meant doing cringing George Michael impressions. I’ll be forever in big sis’s debt for giving me the opportunity to mime as Simon Le Bon while my younger sister danced on the sand.

From the first “jitterbug”, Junior was firmly on the side of springtime euphoria. She bounced up and down and whacked the sides of the inflatable, and grinned like a life chooser. The record’s an insubstantial piece of fluff but it has a kinetic drive that will never allow you to stay still, with or without your sister’s coercion.

[19] Kool & The Gang, ‘(When You Say You Love Somebody) In The Heart’

An unremarkable record from a band some way past its peak, hurtling headlong towards the nadir of ‘Cherish’. It has a nice, sunny intro, and I remember admiring its 7” vinyl goodness in the lane on the way home from WH Smith. Also in the paper bag were singles from Scritti Politti and OMD. It was the Easter holiday. I don’t have much to say about this.

Junior ate banana porridge, which will probably linger longer in her memory.

[20] Madness, ‘Michael Caine’

One of the later, more melancholy offerings from Madness. Written by Carl Smyth and Woody, with lead vocals from Carl/Chas and – can we say? – an early use of sampling in a pop record, it was the first of their singles to miss the Top 10 in two years. Pity, because it’s a smart little tune. Founder member Mike Barson leaves his piano, and the band, at the start of the video and it’s the beginning of the end.

None of this was denting Junior’s cheerful disposition, as she sat in the trusty inflatable and chewed the entire sponge book. Even Dad’s lame two-ball juggling met with jolly appreciation. I think she understood how much fun Madness were, even when they kept it downbeat.

I’ve heard this song’s about Northern Ireland. The references are somewhat oblique, if you ask me.