Formby follows function

Louis Barfe is leaning on a lamppost at the corner of the street in case a certain little lady comes by

Bearing the Latin epithet quid custodet ipsos custodes (roughly translated, this means "How does a snowplough driver get to work?") in mind, it's worth asking who our celebrities hero-worship. Why, other celebrities, of course. Frank Skinner paid a king of rock and roll's ransom for Elvis Presley's shirt. Marilyn Manson was obsessed with Marilyn Monroe and Charles Manson, hence the name, while Abi Titmuss has a shrine to John Leslie's schlong, without which she'd still be emptying bedpans in Geriatric Ward F.

Even so, it might come as a surprise to learn that George Harrison, known to Beatles fans as the quiet one (and to me as the deceptively good one - All Things Must Pass is, by several very long chalks, the best solo record by any of the Fabs), was fascinated by the life and work of gap-toothed ukulele ambassador George Formby, and a dutiful member of the George Formby Society.

Superficially, it's an odd match, but the parallels soon become apparent. In his day, Formby was the highest-paid and best-loved entertainer in Britain. In their day, The Beatles held the same position worldwide, and probably still do posthumously. Both were Northern - Formby from Wigan, the Fabs from Liverpool. Both were cheeky and irreverent. Both were banned by the BBC: in Formby's case, the offence was caused by "When I'm Cleaning Windows", for The Beatles "A Day in the Life". The Beatles inspired a generation to pick up guitars, and if the pop kids of the 1930s didn't take to the uke en masse, they had no adequate excuse. The ukulele is the most affordable musical instrument in the world - a perfectly playable example can be had for a tenner and no home should be without one.

No, Harrison loved Formby all right - the recordings for his final album Brainwashed all begin with the uke.

Consequently, George on George (BBC Radio 4, Sunday into Monday 12.15am) is likely to be, at worst, a diverting half-hour and at best, utterly fascinating - all the better if you're a Beatle nut, a Formby fan and a practising ukelelist, like what I am. The witty and knowledgeable Russell Davies presents, and my already-high respect for him shot through the roof when I heard him close his Sunday afternoon Radio 2 show with digs at meaningless sloganeering and one of his absurder colleagues. What did he say? "This is Radio 2, where different works, and the future's orange, so here's Dale Winton". Class.

Of course, other radio Georges are available. There's PC George Dixon in the current adaptation of Dixon of Dock Green, and, of course, Big George Webley (the man who wrote the theme for Have I Got News For You?) presenting the breakfast show for BBC Three Counties Radio's Milton Keynes opt-out (sadly not yet available on the web). Pugnacious and funny, he's a talk-radio troublemaker, a stirrer in the best possible sense, and he does his homework - something that John Prescott found out the hard way when interviewed by Webley recently. When not on air, he's making a film about Beethoven and trying to persuade Proms boss Nicholas Kenyon to stage a Prom concert comprising the best TV themes from both sides of the Atlantic. Why that requires any persuasion, I don't know.