Tom Jones is in the WHEELIE BIN

Tom Jones lay in her mum’s wheelie bin. Dawn knew something had gone horribly wrong the moment she saw his head poking out.

‘What happened, Tom?’

He didn’t reply, he simply stared from his upside-down position as the wind caught him, and he rustled.

Dawn tipped back the lid of the bin. ‘Oh, my Lord!’ Inside lay her mum’s old posters. They used to decorate the spare room upstairs. She’d turned it into a bit of a shrine.

‘Your mum first saw Tom on the telly in 1964,’ Dawn’s late father had explained to her when she was little. ‘She’d just turned 15 when It’s Not Unusual topped the charts. When we met six years later, he was everywhere in her flat, on the walls, on the bookcases. Most people grow out of crushes, but your mum never did. I expect her and Tom will be together forever. I can’t see any point in getting jealous of him. Besides, I can’t sing a note.’

Now, Dawn rang the