Myths and Conjecture - The Lyrics of The Beatles 'A Day in the Life'

The last track on Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, 'A Day in The Life' was originally banned by the BBC for being a drugs song.  They were probably right to do so, as when you read some of the crazy theories surrounding the lyrics, it's not hard to imagine that some of these fans were, and possibly still are, dabbling with some mind altering substances.

I happened to be perusing some of these theories one Saturday night because, to put it simply, my life is not as rock and roll as music I listen to.

Roll up, roll up, the Guardian presents an evening of ludicrous and intriguing hypotheses from Beatles fans across the world.  So here are a few of my personal favourites, along with my notes on their varying degrees of credibility.

On the line 'four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire':

• Was it not the number of holes: drinking holes? i.e. Pubs? At that time Blackburn was a large industrial town and most working men finished their days in the pub. There was a pub on every street corner so 4000 pubs in Blackburn is VERY possible.

Andrew Donelan, Blackburn, Lancashire

Hands up if you want to live in a town with 4000 pubs? While Andrew's utopian vision is appealing, there's around 7000 pubs in London today to put it into context....

• Actually it was a direct quote from a recently discovered obscure Scottish bard, "For thou's an old sin, black bairn, lankish ere."

Jim, London UK

Genius, I love it. Just for the sake of clarity though, it's a complete fabrication, Jim is just yanking your chain.

More probable is the '4000 holes in Blackburn, Lancashire' is reportedly a reference to a regional news article featured in the Daily Mail on 17th January 1967, about potholes. In Blackburn. Not as cryptic as one might first imagine ay?

To complicate the matter, Lennon went on to write 'Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall'. Some people claim 'holes' rudely refers to the young ladies that made up the majority of the audience of a Beatles gig, whilst others think it refers to Rolling Stones fans, after The Stones sold out the Albert Hall in 1966. A gig where they were supported by The Ike and Tina Turner Revue and The Yardbirds. If that is the true meaning of the lyric I would likely give a year of my life to have been one of those arse-'holes'!

One logician proposes this is actually a Lewis Caroll-esque maths riddle:

• Wikipedia says that the line "now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall" can be explained by the fact that there was one hole for every 26 people in Blackburn, Lancashire. While the Royal Albert Hall holds about 8000 people, you would have needed about 308 holes to fill it. Because there are 26 people for every hole, of course...

Sebastian, Germany

Newspaper articles on the subject credit the line 'Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall' as just being a nonsense lyric written to maintain the flow of the song.

And, the pièce de résistance, who is 'The lucky man, who made the grade'?

• Some say Paul died in 1964 and was replaced with a Canadian who had won a look alike competition earlier that year. His name was/is William Campbell. The song "a day in the life" refers to a car crash - that Paul was in? The driver was decapitated. There are lots of videos on YouTube about this.

Colin Proctor, Roehampton UK

This idea has its origins in the "Paul is Dead" hoax, started by a bunch of students in Iowa a few years after Sgt Peppers was released. The conspiracy gained momentum, being published in ever bigger newspapers and taking up whole radio shows.

Eventually the whole world was gripped in an evidence gathering mission, with other clues purported to be Lennon saying "I buried Paul" at the end of Strawberry Fields and "Turn me on, dead man" being heard when "Revolution 9" on The White Album is played backwards, as well as visual clues on LP covers Sgt Peppers, Abbey Road and Magical Mystery Tour.

McCartney himself has even made reference to the hoax in his own work. The cover of his 1993 'Paul is Live' Album parodies the "clues" from Abbey Road.

It is commonly accepted that this man, who "Made the grade" and "Blew his mind out in a car" refers to Tara Browne, a friend of Lennon and McCartney's and heir to the Guiness Estate. He had died the previous December, but the Daily Mail ran a story on him in the same 17th January 1967 edition.

Intrigue, wrapped in enigma, wrapped in mystery. The only thing conclusively proved by this post is that the Daily Mail and unsubstantiated bullshit have always gone hand in hand.

Passion, Creativity and Capitalism: Refelections on the words of Peter Blake

The Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band cover was created by Peter Blake and his then-wife Jann Haworth and won a Grammy Award for Best Album Cover. An iconic cover for an iconic album which I have listened to a lot recently (on a later, non-expensive pressing.)

As I sat this Wednesday morning, reading the Observer magazine (that's right I sometimes start my Sunday paper on a Wednesday - I'm not ashamed), I was struck by the very last line of an interview with Sir Peter Blake:

 "Wherever I go there are men waiting for me with square plastic bags full of records for me to sign. They'll ask you to sign something then whip out four albums - Sgt Pepper, Paul Weller. I know they'll go straight on eBay."

At first, and despite Sir Peter's apparent acceptance of this, I felt deflated and very sad. What kind of world is this whereby we will stalk an artist for the sterling value of his signature?

What has happened to the impossible but irresistible notion of art and creativity being somehow above the drudgerous capitalist machine?

But I can be a bit dramatic like that.

Then I began to look at this in the context of my own activities over the last 12 months and indeed my aspirations.

Just over a year ago, I started collecting records. I am what I have coined 'a talentless creative'. I have the passion, the love, the energy and the will to create. It's just that my creative output has typically been rather shit.

Listening to records, finding them, admiring the sleeves, researching them, handling them and talking about them to my friends (who, no doubt are too polite to let their utter boredom slip), is an outlet for my passion for music.

Then a few months back I saw a joblot of records on Gumtree. Most of the collection wasn't my cup of tea but there were a few real gems in there. After some quick mental maths I figured the price of the joblot was only a few quid more than I would have paid for the gems at a record shop anyway and so I bought it.

Peter Blake's cover for Paul Weller's Stanley Road

I loved my handful of new records, purred over them even, while I tried to ignore the 140 others in the corner that I really didn't want.

I tried eBay, it was horrendously expensive for a seller.

I tired listing them back on Gumtree and the magic started happening. People were calling me and chatting about the music and the LPs. How they'd discovered this or that, amusing anecdotes about when they'd first found something on record. I was in my element.

Then eventually the timewasters and non-turner-uppers got to me so I turned to Discogs. Those who know me know that I love learning a new skill and learning how to grade records was an utter joy to me.

In short, I have learnt I love selling records as well as collecting them.

It appeals to some of my other sensibilities too. I like the idea of keeping these things in use. Treating them half as artefacts of a time where you physically held your music and it didn't only exist in a non-real space called 'the cloud' or some nonsense like that. And in equal measure, treating them as a toy, to be used and listened to. I mean who cares if you are dancing around in your nightie with a cigarette and a splash of your large gin and tonic lands onto side A? Some records are rare and precious, some just need to be diverted from landfill and enjoyed.

But for the ones I sell, I enjoy improving them - I tenderly clean them with my special cloth, I carefully glue gatefolds and replace shoddy innersleeves with nice new ones. My business model is to take something worth 'X' and make it better so it is now worth 'Y'. Trust me the margins are very small.

At the moment I use the cash to further indulge my hobby, but I aspire to one day have a music shop. Finally a way for this talentless music aficionado to make a living from music.

So would I ask an artist to sign a record intended for resale? Yes.

Would I also relish every second of that experience? Talking to the artist about their work? Enjoying the interaction with with one of those successful creative types I admire? Regaling the story to the eventual customer? Yes. I would revel in every second. Because that's exactly the kind of escapade that would let me know I was doing something I love with my life.

So maybe I shouldn't be sad. Whether the records end up on eBay or not, they will mean a lot to the people who end up buying them.

And rest assured Sir Peter, if I had my copy of Sgt Pepper signed by you it would be strictly 'not for sale'.

And I would kiss you on both cheeks.