One interesting societal aspect of time-warp Italy is the number of thriving dance halls where couples in the full bloom of pensionhood, their faces rigid with concentration, grimly cling on to each other as they sashay around the dance floor. Happy Harry, above, was the star turn last week and, yes, he dresses like that because he thinks it's cool and it is certainly not done in a post-modern ironic sense. He will probably have a seven or eight piece backing band made up of a 55 year old pneumatic songstress squeezed into a dress three sizes too small, an accordion player with a permanent rictus grin, two guitarists, a drummer and three pony-tailed likely lads in the brass section who will spend most of their time on the stage nudging each other and winking and gurning at any likely dancefloor prey as they swing in unison to the beat. All the male members of the band are likely to be dressed in powder blue satin suits, with industrial quantities of exposed chest hair on view. All will have arrived at the gig in a converted 20 year old coach with the band name (Julian and The Barons) emblazoned on the side and posters sellotaped up on the back window.
This smouldering hunk is next up in the frame. I bet he pulls.
