Step aside everyone, Elton John has just turned 62 this morning, and he’s probably in a terrible mood. He’s always in a huff, even before the Princess of Hearts died for our sins on the cross – or something – he was reknowned for his angry barking. Hence, we had no choice but to get him a present. Terrified, we wept long into the night, for once questioning our brilliant judgement, until it boiled down to a toss up between a small carton of rubber johnnies or a brilliant song by a foreign gentleman very much in the Elton John mould. In the end we got him both. Happy Birthday Lady Elton!