Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich was a name that tripped easily off the tongue for pop fans in the Swinging '60s. They're still going strong and coming to Preston on April 6.

When I called Dave Dee on the mobile number provided for our interview he hastily gave me a landline number and rang off.

How mysterious, I thought. Maybe he's on a private jet flying over the Atlantic and can't use his mobile.

It turned out he was actually in a Manchester hospital awaiting a prostate operation. Phew, rock n' roll!

But, being a true professional, he assured me he didn't have a problem giving interviews from his hospital bed.

"I'm lying down love, it's OK. I got prostate cancer eight years ago and I have to keep coming back so they can check me out. It's more boring than anything. Don't worry about me."

What a trooper.

Dave, real name David Harman, formed a band with four friends from Wiltshire Trevor Davies, John Dymond, Michael Wilson and Ian Amey in the 1960s with dreams of success and stardom.

Although he'd always been in bands since schooldays, thanks to an open-minded music teacher, he spent two years as a policeman after his parents insisted he should get a "real" job.

But, after securing a record contract in 1964, the guys soon gave up their day jobs and reinvented themselves as Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich.

The quirky name, catchy songs, and camp theatrics caught the public's imagination and between 1965 and 1969 they spent more weeks in the UK singles chart than The Beatles.

But, inevitably, fame faded. Dave went solo in 1969 to pursue careers in acting, presenting and promoting. The group ploughed on but split in 1972.

However, in the 1980s the band re-formed to make the most of the lucrative "oldies circuit" where they became firm favourites and still regularly play to 20,000-strong audiences.

They're just about to embark on a 68-date tour, calling at Manchester this month and Preston in April.

But doesn't touring get a bit much after 40 years' hard graft?

"You're joking, aren't you?" Dave laughed.

"If people think we go to the bus after the show with our slippers and cocoa they're very much mistaken. You don't get to look like Keith Richards from drinking cups of tea, I can tell you.

"It used to be pretty wild. There are some stories that are unprintable, put it that way. We never got into the drug thing but we made up for it with birds and booze.

"I suppose after a while the travelling does get to you at times but it goes with the territory and you get to see all these amazing countries. You wouldn't get that in any other job."

Dave believes the reason the band is still going strong is because teenagers of the '60s had such a great time, they don't want to let it go.

"I remember saying to our manager after our first hit, 'How long do you think this is going to last?' He said, 'Three to five years, if you're lucky.' And 40-odd years down the line still we're going. You have got to remember the 1960s was an incredible movement. It was the first time young people had money and it was the first time British music had taken over the world. People who were kids when they came to see us are the same people who come to our gigs now. It was such an exciting time, they haven't forgotten it.

"But a lot of young people come too. They're disenchanted with their own generation's music and are turning backwards to discover new sounds."

Dave is a great storyteller and he seems to like telling tales of the good old days, recounting depressing lows and glorious highs.

The highlight of his career, he said, was that first number one.

"I suppose that's what you always want, the first number one, to go on Top Of The Pops or Ready Steady Go. Just to get on those TV shows was a dream in itself and there we were doing it.

"My ambition was to go into a caff or pub and somebody would be playing one of our songs. It eventually happened in a service station pub on the A3 near Guildford."

His lowest point came in the early days, when times were so tough he contemplated giving up on the music business and re-joining the police force.

"There was one point where we were struggling really badly," he said. "We had all our equipment on HP and all the other bands we'd started with, people like The Beatles, were having hits and we couldn't get a record deal. We called our manager from a caff in Manchester where we had one cup of tea and two fags between us and said we've had enough of this.' "He talked us round. He said you've got a new single coming out, it could all be different in six months' time'. Sure enough, within six months we'd had our first hit."

As for regrets, Dave says he only has one that he didn't safeguard himself better against unscrupulous record companies.

"Our first deal was diabolical," he said. "It took me 30 years to negotiate out of it, but it was very much like shutting the door after the horse had bolted.

"We sold 10 million records but the record company had it all. But I didn't get into it for the money, anyway. We had a great time touring the world Japan, New Zealand and China. It wasn't all bad. We've just got no money!"

Dave breaks off mid-flow. The nurse has arrived with his lunch.

There's just time for a quick plug.

"Just tell them to come it's going to be a great show."

And with that he's off.

The Solid Silver '60s Show 2006, 21st Birthday Tour, also featuring Gerry and the Pacemakers, Wayne Fontana and PJ Proby, calls at Preston Guild Hall on Thursday, April 6.