CHRISTMAS wouldn’t be the same without Mike’s festive gig at the hall and the Bewdley boy who was born to boogie certainly came laden with gifts.

“Long live rock and roll,” he hollers with all the kind of authority that was once the hallmark of a Chuck Berry concert.

And there are indeed similarities. For like Chuck, he knows that everything depends on a high-octane four-four assault on the senses that doesn’t leave anyone time to catch their breath.

His pounding bass figures underpin one of the best bands he’s had for a long time. The sax section is pure Kansas city, bass and drums are like an old married couple, and guitar man Big Boy Bloater knows there is absolutely nothing like a Strat fuelled by an overdriven Fender amp.

But it wasn’t all plain wailing. For Big Boy tragically blew the break on Blue Boy big time, and momentarily seemed to go to pieces at one stage.

Would Mike give him the equivalent of an Apprentice-style dressing down? No problem, said our ambassador of the blues, with all the aplomb that Little Richard might have reserved for one the Exciters hitting a wrong chord.

Naturally, the tunes came thick and fast. Sapphire, Wild Child, Deep in the Heart of Texas all seemed to blend into one continuous barrage as some shell-shocked punters did their best to jive non-stop for up to 20 minutes, something that even Kara on Strictly wouldn’t have been able to hack without disturbing her foundation cream.

Mike’s put on a few pounds these days and is no longer the lean and hungry hillbilly cat from the Wyre Forest swamplands. All the same, he’s still the only real heavyweight rocker in these parts.