He’s from Essex, in case you couldn’t tell. And fans of Dury, Madness, Deaf School et al will wet themselves over this – I have. But the life Woodcock describes is no nostalgic dream, morea modern nightmare. His cautionary tale mentions Jeremy Kyle, stretchmarks, ‘unney traps and all manner o dark matters. It’s a bit music hall with its plonky pianna, and its funny as well as bleak, like a night in a dodgy boozer:you’re laughing, but, in a grimy corner, something unspeakable’s going on. On the flip, the laddish persona falls awayand it’s like Suede as a pub band withan awareness of real life. Both sides fear females: she’s got the power. It’s Woodcock’s second single, the first on vinyl. And it’s the best 45 I’ve heard from a new artist in 2013; pity you’re reading this in ’14. The geezer’s a star.