The singer, born Bernard Jewry in 1942, was a 31-year-old rock journeyman, playing in clubs for beer money

The singer, born Bernard Jewry in 1942, was a 31-year-old rock journeyman, playing in clubs for beer money, when he answered a newspaper ad placed by record company boss Michael Levy (later a close friend of Tony Blair and a Labour fundraiser, now Lord Levy).

The record company had the rights to a catchy song with a driving boogie riff. Its lyrics were nonsense, just babytalk, but the producer was convinced My Coo Ca Choo could be a chart smash with the right solo artist. And that meant inventing a rock star.

Levy wanted to call him Al Starr. His secretary suggested Alvin Stardust, and the newborn pop sensation was sent out to buy himself some clothes. Remembering the cowboy films he had loved at Saturday matinees as a child, Alvin opted for black leather.

My Coo Ca Choo sold so fast that, within days of its release, he was booked for Top Of The Pops. But on the evening before the recording, as he sat in his room at a Paddington bed-and- breakfast, Alvin suffered a crisis of confidence. He was the man in black — but his hair was mousey brown. Rushing out to Woolworth’s he bought a bottle of dye and coloured his hair in the sink. The result was a disaster — with trickles of midnight blue running down both cheeks and staining his hands like ink.

Rather than cancel, he bought a pair of fake sideburns the next morning from a wig-maker, and a pair of black leather gloves from a ladies’ outfitters, and created the look that made him famous.

But, as he posed on stage and glowered at the camera, it was more than just his facial hair that was fake. No one had guessed it wasn’t even Alvin singing on the actual record, but the songwriter, Peter Shelley — an oddball who went on to have a schmaltzy hit with Love Me, Love My Dog.