That was another fantasy vanishing in a puff of smoke leaving nothing but the faint smell of bacon and a few grains of glitter.
In 1980 Sting was the schoolteacher turned rockstar who had an army of teenage fans – and I marched among them.
He sang ‘don’t stand so close to me’ and we were there, in that deserted classroom or waiting at the bus stop in the rain… oooh. Just the sight of a stripy jumper used to bring it back.
It was an enduring affair; it withstood pompous pontification about rainforests, tantric sex claims and that wedding with her on the horse.
But 29 years later and another jumper has ruined it.
Yesterday he was on the This Morning sofa trying to look like he hadn’t just realised that singing about winter would make him exactly the same as Cliff Richard.
That was bad enough, but the granny-knitted-it-so-I’d-better-wear-it jumper and the Brian Blessed beard broke my heart.
Now it’s me singing ‘don’t stand so close to me’ and ‘bl00dy hell, it’s raining I hope the bus comes before he stops to give me a lift’.