The French are useless at rock ’n’ roll. They have the look and they have the style but they don’t have the balls. What screws them is their obsession with words, with lyrics; they must say something. Do Wah Diddy and Tutti Fruiti just won’t cut it for them. Consequently the French miss out on having any big worldwide rock or pop stars – Johnny Hallyday and Eddy Mitchell notwithstanding.

Unlike the sixties, the 1970s have yet to take on the mantle of sexiness and most things related to it are considered a bit naff . . . Round and Round the Garden is a pleasant enough diversion about boring people – or, at least, boring men – leading their hum-drum tedious lives as vets, estate agents and assistant librarians hoping for a bit of excitement and distraction by groping each other’s spouses . . .