WOULD you let your daughter marry one of them? On the strength of this rip-roaring rocker of a show, then the answer’s most definitely… yes!

Many people in the audience will recall that this question was originally posed back in the days when any male whose hair was worn slightly over the collar was regarded as a complete degenerate.

And if that same ne’er-do-well also had a liking for the increasingly popular ‘negro music’ then the Government should immediately bring back National Service. How times change.

The Counterfeits, fronted by the hysterically amusing Nick Dagger, are a tongue-in-cheek portrait of the archetypal rock rebels, from their It’s All Over Now days right up to the present line-up featuring the three surviving original members.

As in the real Stones, the band is ruled by Dagger and henchman Keef Rickard, respectively – and indeed respectfully - played with panache by Steve Elson and Bill Lennon.

The lead singer’s absurdly parodied London accent and his guitar slinger mate’s every move, right down to the heroin era ‘twitch’, are perfectly captured. Not only that, but the riffs are accurately played down to the last musical nuance, every lick lovingly recreated.

David Birnie’s leering, androgynous take on the late Brian Jones is also spot on as he brings back to life the middle class Cheltenham boy who looked like a woman yet whose guitar technique was equal to that of a Mississippi bluesman.

And then there are the hits. Honky Tonk Women, Brown Sugar, Angie, Start Me Up… this is the soundtrack to a misspent youth and I’m travelling back in time to the Rugby Granada theatre and then on to London’s Hyde Park in the summer of 1969.

As the man said, it’s only rock and roll. But I still like it, yes I do.

John Phillpott