It was May 1981 and two housewives in Surrey had successfully organised the first convention for women of a certain age who adored the big nosed one. From 11am to midnight in a hotel in Crystal Palace, south London, they watched their favorite clips of Manilow.
The man himself was unable to attend so the event was compered – I kid you not – by “Diddy” David Hamilton – eminently forgettable DJ who also used to read out TV links between programmes – Thames TV if my memory serves me right.
A press release for the event said that Barry was seen “not really a superstar – more a family friend”. This family comprising of six thousand members.