HE DID Wales proud, the boyo. There could be no doubt about that. In a land of sheep, he was a ram, blessed with the name of a rugby prop forward, or maybe a tenor in one of those endless bow-tied choirs from the valleys – and he caroused through the gossip columns, pausing only to satisfy his appetites in pubs and boudoirs, though if there was a competition to decide which he favoured more, it would have been a close call.Read