IN the summer of 1964 a catchy and annoying number one hit played on jukeboxes in every coffee bar in the land.

Do Wah Diddy Diddy (we had proper lyrics in those days) seemed to follow us everywhere.

After a Beatles film one night -- and just before the trip home on the Lambretta -- I leaned over to the girl who eventually married me and said: "Darling, they're playing our song!"

This somewhat feeble attempt at sophisticated irony has haunted us ever since because, dammit, DWDD has had an unexpectedly long shelf life.

Last night, some 37 years later, we were part of an enthusiastic audience which followed 59-year-old Paul Jones' lead and bellowed those familiar nonsense words with roof-rattling vigour.

"Darling, they're SHOUTING our song," I might have said, if I had thought of it at the time.

Earlier in this two-in-one evening those of us who like to nod solemnly to plaintive guitars and wailing harmonicas thoroughly enjoyed the Blues Band -- Jones, Tom McGuinness, Dave Kelly, Gary Fletcher and Rob Townsend.

After the break, Messrs Jones, McGuinness and Townsend re-appeared in a seven-piece Manfreds line-up which included Mike Hugg (one of the founders of the famous Manfred Mann group) and Mike D'Abo, the man who beat Rod Stewart when auditions were held to find a replacement singer for the talented Mr Jones.

This is a terrific line-up and we were treated to a series of hits -- including Sha La La, Ha! Ha! Said The Clown, Pretty Flamingo and Come Tomorrow (sung beautifully by Paul Jones) -- supported by various interesting contributions from individual members of the band.

It was a slick show enthusiastically received by a predominantly middle-aged audience on a wet Monday night.

And after three hours, there we were -- just a walking down the street singing.

Alan Calvert