Bad news, pop-pickers. Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the record shop, sadists in the music business have decided to re-release what was unquestionably one of the naffest songs ever recorded - Agadoo, by Black Lace.

Back in the summer of '84, this was the tune that almost drove a nation insane.

Originally the anthem of sangria-crazed Brits abroad, Agadoo crept and swept its way into this country like a plague.

Black Lace were responsible for this musical version of the Black Death - once you'd heard it, your life was never the same again. It lived on in your memory like a virus.

To be fair, though, Black Lace weren't the only people responsible for making the world cringe with their crooning.

Dear me, no. Down the years, there have been umpteen records whose composers should have died of embarrassment.

Forget the rock 'n' roll Hall of Fame - the naff, the twee and the pretentious have equal space with the infantile, the idiotic and the downright bad in the rock 'n' roll Hall of Shame.

Like the lyrics to a Bob Dylan song, the list of toe-curlingly, buttock-clenchingly rubbishy records is endless.

In fact, were we to publish them all, this wouldn't be a Page 3 feature, it'd be a supplement as thick as the phone book.

High summer and Christmas are the times when your ears are most in peril from the puerile, for these are contemporary music's silly seasons. Just to remind you of how bad things can get, here are our Naff Awards to Those Who Write the Songs That Make the Whole World Cringe.

Pass the Sickbag Award: Seasons in the Sun, by Terry Jacks. Jacques Brel wrote it, Jacks sang it and we used it as a frisbee.

Most Meaningless Lyric Award: Metal Guru, by T. Rex. "Metal Guru, is it you?" Almost Shakespearian, eh?

Pretentious Drivel Award: Bohemian Rhapsody, by Queen. Who did you think you were kidding, Mr Mercury?

Mindless, Tuneless and Useless Award: Long-haired Lover from Liverpool, by Little Jimmy Osmond. Music for morons, made by a muppet.

Any Last Requests, Senor? Award: Shaddap You Face, by Joe Dolce. Should have followed his own advice.

Quick, Throw the Radio Out of the Window Award: There's No One Quite Like Grandma, by St Winifred's School Choir. Suffer the little children. They deserve to suffer, after this.

Don't Give Up the Day Job Award: Floral Dance, by Terry Wogan. Should have been made to lick the Blarney Stone clean with his tongue for doing this.

This Transcends Mere Rubbish Award: Billy Don't Be a Hero, by Paper Lace. Post-modern classic of crassness.

Couldn't Carry a Tune in a Bucket Award: Wand'rin' Star by Lee Marvin. What can we say? If haemorrhoids could sing, they'd sound like this. I'd Sooner Listen to Fingernails Scraping a Blackboard Award: Anything by Chas and Dave. And we mean anything.

Where Are They Now - Who Cares? Award: Seven Tears, by the Goombay Dance Band. Gone but never forgotten. Unfortunately.

Funny as a Burning Orphanage Award: Ernie, by Benny Hill. Fanny Hill would have been funnier. Or even Damon.

Was He on Drugs When He Made This? Award: My Ding-a-Ling, by Chuck Berry. Thus do legends become fools. Chuck it, Mr Berry.

You'd Need to Be on Drugs to Listen to This Award: Every Loser Wins, by Nick Berry. Berry, Berry bad.

Now That's What I Call Muzak Award: I Write the Songs, by Barry Manilow. Yes, unfortunately he does.

Songs You Hear in Elevators Award: Silver Lady, by David Soul. He should have stuck to being one half of Car Keys and Clutch. Buy This for Your Worst Enemy Award: Two Little Boys, by Rolf Harris. Two little boys and one big, beardy bozo from Down Under. A recipe for disaster.

Honestly, It's a Present for my Granny Award: Mistletoe and Wine, by Sir Cliff Richard. Quick, cancel Christmas - he's back again.

It Didn't Even Sound Good When I Was Blind Drunk on Holiday Award: Y Viva Espana, by Sylvia. A pain about Spain to drive you insane, this was a song gone wrong from a Swede we don't need.

I'd Sooner Have a Lobotomy, Thanks, Award: Vaya Con Dios, by Millican and Nesbitt. If anyone ever offers to play this to you, be afraid. Be very afraid.

And there you have it, a top 20 of tosh, and we haven't even got round to rubbish like The Birdy Song, Una Paloma Blanca, Grandad, Whispering Grass, The Laughing Gnome, Frog Chorus, Mr Blue Sky, Sugar Baby Love, every football song ever recorded (yes, including Three Lions) and countless others.

You no doubt will have your own nominations for worst song of all time and we've even got a stunning prize for the best choice - see the panel on this page. So if you do have any suggestions, we'd love to hear them. The nominations, that is, not the songs.

Please God, not the songs... Name naff tunes THE last time we checked, the dreaded Agadoo was at number 64.

But in Oxford at least, the public are not going mad to secure a copy of what may be the most irritating record of all time. Legions of floral-shirted fans have not been spotted hurtling through the streets to the record stores.

A Woolworth's employee admitted she hadn't seen any copies being sold and the story was similar at Virgin. "We're not allowed to give out sales figures," said a spokesman. Yes, but have you sold any? "Hardly any," he replied.

At HMV, they have sold only one - to us. And we're giving it away. Yes, it's our top prize for the best nomination for the Worst Record Ever. Actually, it's our only prize.

All you have to do is tell us your nomination, along with your reasons, and send it with your name, address and daytime telephone number on a postcard to: Worst Record Competition, George Frew, Oxford Mail, Osney Mead, Oxford OX2 0EJ. Entries must be in by first post next Friday, August 28, 1998, and my decision is final.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.