Harry Rama

Who is your favourite Harry? There’s certainly plenty to choose from.

Take Prince Harry for instance. Third in line to the throne, ginger and full participant in the military-industrial complex, but only in disguise. God for Harry, England and Saint George! as Shakespeare would have said.

Then there’s Harry Carpenter. If you were a rubbish impressionist and Frank Spencer was too difficult what with the cat doing a whoopsie or whatever it was that he said, you’d do Frank Bruno; by saying “know what I mean, ‘Arry” etc.

Harry Potter overcame the stereotypical bildungsroman childhood of legend with all the parental death and living under the stairs and becoming amazing at some selective school that entails. Plus he has a scar.  Pisses all over Guy Ritchie’s one, that’s for sure.

This sad syndrome is currently a great force in popular culture, as well as in politics. The sorry spectacle of public schoolboys making films about how well-dressed, witty and cool working-class sociopaths are continues with the forthcoming Snatch, the latest film by Guy Ritchie, whose mother is a Lady, whose sister is a Tabitha, and who obviously got that impressive-looking scar by falling off his pony and landing on his silver spoon.

I have forgiven Julie Birchill a lot since she said that.

Harry Houndini. If that was his real name… hang on… it wasn’t.

whose birth name in Hungary was Ehrich Weiss

Harry Roberts. Perpatrator of the Shepherd’s Bush Massacre… which took place in, erm… East Acton.

Harry Partch. My personal favourite. Lived on the streets, invented his own scales and instruments, had a fantastic beard.

Deborah Harry. Blonde and once said “And out comes a man from Mars / And you try to run but he’s got a gun / And he shoots you dead and he eats your head / And then you’re in the man from Mars”; a sentiment we can all agree with.