Sothebys curator Malcolm Flambay has hosted several 'Rock Under The Hammer' events and is a self-confessed expert on Beatles signatures.  "McCartney recently suggested that most Beatles autographs aren't genuine", he says.  "Apparently he himself used to forge the others' signatures between takes.  Mind you, in his recent book 'In My Life', he also claimed to have played most of the instruments on all Beatles songs.  And in Chapter 17 he suggests that, from 1965 to 74, he actually was George Harrison - except for on Side 4 of 'All Things Must Pass' which he reckoned was just Mal Evans falling over an amplifier on his way to the shops.

McCartney is notoriously discourteous when it comes to auctioning off Beatles memorabilia, claiming that all such items are nobody's to sell but his, and was particularly angry about the recent auctioning of a shopping list said to be written by him in the early 90s.  The list,  which apparently read "Tons and tons of meat.  Loads of it.  Plenty of offal.  Some brains.  And a bucket of pig's blood" was eventually bought by Paul McCartney himself wearing a false moustache and a frogman outfit.

Other Beatles items recently under the hammer have been an unpublished book of Lennon doodles and verse entitled 'Aren't Spastics Hilarious', the missing Eleanor Bron gang-bang out-takes reel from the United Artists film 'Help!' and a copy of 'How To Play The Drums Quite Well And That' once owned by Ringo Starr.

The world of pop collections throws up some rather sad tales.  We were invited to the home of one Derek Bowie, estranged brother of David, who, although not in contact with his more prominent sibling, has nevertheless acquired a veritable treasure trove of Bowie pop memorabilia.

"It's been in the family for years", grins Derek, indicating a small dusty lamp which he claims contains Bowie's original 'Jean Genie'.  "I have written to Dave several times, offering to sell it back to him, but he doesn't seem too keen.  Hardly surprising really - the genie doesn't grant wishes or anything.  He just lives on his back.  It's outrageous".

Stepping over Derek's threshold is like a dimention leap into the 70s.  Andy Warhol prints deck the walls ("Don't they look a scream - hanging on my wall", he titters).  In the corner of the room, like some large metallic Gohonzen, is a frightening looking device with dials and knobs.  Some prop from an obscure pop video perhaps?  "No, it's the original 'tin machine' in fact.  Quite interesting really - it's a machine made of tin...which makes tin.  One question which keeps me awake at night is...did it make itself..?"  Derek's phone book is filled with the names and addresses of gay men who discovered their sexuality while watching Bowie perform 'Starman' on Top Of The Pops in the 70s.  Luckily the stuffed Mick Ronson in the cupboard has been verified as a fake.

Other Bowie items in the vast collection includes a pair of mismatched coloured eyeballs, not too dissimilar to David's own ("There was a bit of a mix up when we were kids - but anytime he wants to trade and get a matching set, all he has to do is call us").

Derek doesn't share in the mansions and wealth of his brother.  His one-room bedsit above a Londis in Hendon is named 'David's Shadow'.  "Because," adds Derek sadly, "I'm living in it"  He claims however not to be bitter.  "No regrets.  Everything Dave owns, he's earned fair and square," he says smiling, "except for that 'John I'm Only Dancing' . I wrote that."

We contacted RCA Victor to ask why David Bowie never got in touch with his brother Derek.  They offered us the following statement: "David Bowie's real name is David Jones in fact, so it's unlikely that his brother - if indeed he even has one - would adopt his stage surname.  What's more, David Bowie hasn't been on this record label for years, and 'Derek Bowie' is an obscure reference to a first-series Fry & Laurie sketch.  Now stop writing bad Viz rip-offs and leave us alone".

The mystery thickens!

One thing which shouldn't be encouraged is the buying and selling of the by-products of rock tragedies.  Yet the black market in such items is notorious.  "I've had them all through here", insists one such dealer (who would only give his name  as 'Mr Stephen Jeffries'), "The bullets that killed Lennon.  Complete set - 300 grand.  Richie Manic's unused Severn Bridge ticket stub - a grand.  The itemised phone bill which caused Kobain to shoot his head inside out, Jim Morrison's free sachet of Vosene, Keith Moon's unpaid prescription bill...  It's a growth industry.  At least one of them Gallagher brothers will fly sideways out of a window soon.  I'll be there waiting to scrape up a sample or two".  My distaste is obviously apparent.  He attempts to console me - not an easy task since he's wearing the very same jacket worn by Marvin Gaye as he hit the floor, not to mention John Denver's flight goggles and Mark Bolan's driving gloves.  "Look, it's just a living, mate.  If I hadn't been there with a fishing net to catch the remnants of Mama Cass' bap as it sailed through the air there'd have been thousands who would have!"  He indicates the remains of the sandwich , mounted behind a glass case and makes a somewhat sour joke about British Rail catering. 

I leave this house of ill-gotten treasures with a foul taste in my mouth.  "Yup - the actual burger that killed Presley" , says Jeffries, winking.

So, do you have a priceless Long John Bauldry in your attic?  Here are a few more rare long-players recently sold at Christies.