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David Rose from Stockwell in London got in touch via to tell us about his moment of television fame as a teenager back in 1966. We thought you'd like to hear his story in his own words...

On 29 January 1966, about 40 of us from the Youth Club at St Andrew's Church, Mottingham, met at the church hall to take a coach to the Ö÷²¥´óÐã to see Club leader Pat said the Ö÷²¥´óÐã had told them that for this new series they were trying out having a young, fifth panellist to give a “teenager's view” and would pick a member of our party to be that extra panellist.

A vote resulted in me being chosen to be the guinea pig. How that happened I can’t remember but I’m sure I didn’t volunteer. Maybe it was because I was dressed for the part. I was wearing a shirt from which I’d removed the collar and cuffs and dyed them black, whilst the body of the shirt I’d dyed purple. I stitched it all back together again - by hand! I wore it with a yellow tie and my new first made-to-measure suit with 12-inch flares and flared cuffs in a bright fawn corduroy with a bright red lining. I felt the bees knees! Sadly, it wasn’t colour TV in those days.

As soon as we arrived at the Ö÷²¥´óÐã Television Theatre they asked me to fill out a release form before being whisked into the make-up room to emerge a few minutes later looking like I’d arrived fresh from the Bahamas.

In the green room I met my fellow panellists - only two of whom I can remember. There was Spencer Davis (of the Spencer Davis Group who were number one that week with Keep on Running) and Marion Ryan, a pretty blonde singer who had no hits but was still famous.

I also met DJ Alan Freeman, Hayley Mills and Marianne Faithfull, who were there for the next Juke Box Jury, which was to be recorded immediately after ours went out live.

I was ushered onto the stage to cheers of approval from the club and shook David Jacob’s hand before taking my seat behind my name, which they had obviously just put together from plastic letters slotted into a black velvet stand.

We then did a short run-through of a couple of records, chat and voting, then a man with a clipboard and head set chatted to the audience about when to clap and to be 'natural' and not to look into the camera if it was pointing at them - and then he counted down from ten... at 5.15 the theme music started - Hit and Miss by The John Barry Seven.

During the programme I was called on several times to give my esteemed 'teenage opinion” and vote - but the only record I can recall from the show was I'll Never Quite Get Over You sung by Billy Fury. After some chat from the panel the record had two 'hits' and two 'misses'. The celebrity panel was split. My moment had arrived...

"So let’s see what our teenager makes of this one," said David Jacobs. "Over to you, David."

I loved Billy Fury. Before the Beatles came along I wanted to be Billy Fury, then I wanted to be John Lennon - but, strangely, never Paul McCartney, Elvis or Cliff. I used to mime in my bedroom mirror Halfway To Paradise and Jealousy and I still sported a Billy Fury quiff. So it was a no-brainer. I said I loved the song, the orchestra, the words... and it would be a huge hit.

Meanwhile, back at home, my grandparents were My grandpa set up his camera on a tripod and started to take endless photographs of the tiny TV screen - so photographs exist of this momentous moment.

I’ve contacted the Ö÷²¥´óÐã on a few occasions to see if the show exists in the archives but as the programme went out live, it seems no record of it exists - except for my grandfather’s blurry snaps. Recently my daughter called a friend at the Ö÷²¥´óÐã who dug out the running order and 'cast' - and there I am listed as a panellist.

In the event I'll Never Quite Get Over You was a minor hit. But that didn’t matter... I’d said the right thing.

On Monday morning I got a call from the Ö÷²¥´óÐã. It was The Duty Officer who told me that they had received two phone calls following my appearance on Juke Box Jury and wanted my permission to give the callers my telephone number and address.

The first was from a Mrs Baran in Wales who said she had a son called David Rose and she wondered if I was he? It was, indeed, my mother whom I hadn’t seen for more than 15 years. The second was from a Mr Larry Parnes - Billy Fury's manager. As a wannabe pop star my heart leapt with excitement.

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Thank you to David for his wonderful recollections. This edition of Juke Box Jury doesn't exist in the archives, so his memories and photographs are very valuable.

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