Oh Yoko.

‘Memories of John Lennon’ is the latest addition to the John Lennon industry. Basically Yoko Ono, Lennon’s missus, has put together a collection of essays, drawings and photographs in a rather half-arsed way. She also did the editing. Very carefully editing I might add. In fact there’s times when it reads like her answer to all the meanies who blame her for breaking up the Beatles.

OK. Now’s my chance to do a Simon Cowell. I’m not being rude here but if you ask me it’s rubbish. Absolutely appalling. Why? Because I wasn't asked to contribute to ‘Memories of John Lennon’. That’s why. So I’ll tell you right of the bat...I’m biased.

I have nothing against the woman personally, but like I say I wasn’t consulted. I’ve got some pretty good Lennon stories myself, London, New York, LA. Maybe not the sort of stuff she wants in the book but I think people might be interested. OK it is her book. Can’t blame her for wanting to appear in a good light. It’s just that anyone reading between the lines can see what’s going on. The book is loaded with references to how much John loved Yoko and what a wonderful influence she was on him. Bollocks.

What about the book itself Dick you ask? Give us some snippets. Well Sir Mick Jagger’s badly written contribution sounds like Noel Coward in a bad mood, "...at that time, of course, there were queues of girls outside one's door...". Pete Townsend mumbles on about something or other. Desmond Morris tells us what a great artist Yoko is. Some obscure friend of Yoko’s met Lennon in an elevator. Iggy Pop had dinner with Lennon AND David Bowie in Hong Kong...what a riot that was.

If you can get past a lot of mediocre stuff then there are a few good bits. Andy Newmark provides some interesting insights into the making of the 'Double Fantasy' album. Harry Nilsson talks about this and that, Elliot Mintz, Yoko’s publicist, who probably cooked up the idea for the book, has a go at the Lost Weekend (but doesn’t have anything nice to say about May Pang). Needless to say nobody suggests Ono went to London with her sights set on nailing the bloke or had anything to do with breaking up the Beatles. Nor does anybody say Lennon might still be alive if she hadn’t moved him to New York.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m an easygoing bloke when it comes to music. There are a few Barry Manilow songs I like and I’ve even been known to listen to Phil Collins (not intentionally of course but you know how it is. You’re sitting in a bar somewhere and the stuff just pops up). Anyway, the point is I’m broadminded concerning anything musical so I was prepared to like Yoko’s book. But apart from a few essays it’s crap. Really. Yoko fans will love it. Otherwise it’s a waste of good trees.

Which brings us, inevitably, to the Ketchup Effect