Simon and Garfunkel did a song about him:
They say that Martin Dorey owns one vintage campervan,
With aristo connections to spread his food around.
Born into society, a producer's only child,
He had everything a cook could want: flour, hair, and piles.
But I work in his research team,
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Martin Dorey.
The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes:
Martin Dorey in a field, Martin Dorey at the coast.
And the rumor of his barbies and the food in his pot!
Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he's got.
But I work in his research team,
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Martin Dorey.
He surfed with everybody, he had the common touch,
And they were grateful for his cooking and thanked him very much,
So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening papers wrote:
"Martin Dorey went home last night and put his cock inside a goat."
But I work in his research team
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Martin Dorey