Nice, that's my picture you're linking to.
Here's a better shot of the source:

Remember! Delete the space, when you copy and paste!
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y238/dallow/_4041 2021_distel_59_afp.jpg

He actually used that picture when he was cutting his vocals on the new album..I was there

Did he not introduce himself as Sacha Distel at Reading 2004?

Where Do You Go To My Lovely?
Lyrics and Music by Peter Sarstedt

You talk like Marlene Dietrich and you dance like Zizi Jean-Maire.
Your clothes are all made by Balmain and there's diamonds and pearls in your hair.
You live in a fancy apartment off the Boulevard St. Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records and a friend of SASHA DISTEL.
You go to the embassy parties where you talk in Russian and Greek
And the young men who move in your circles, they hang on every word you speak.

But where do you go to my lovely... when you're alone in your bed.
Tell me the thoughts that surround you. I want to look inside your head.

I've seen all your qualifications that you got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso. Your loveliness goes on and on.
When you go on your summer vacation, you go to Juan-les-Pins
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan on your back and on your legs.
And when the snow falls you're found in St. Moritz with the others of the jet set.
And you sip your Napoleon brandy, but you never get your lips wet.

But where do you go to my lovely... when you're alone in your bed.
Tell me the thoughts that surround you. I want to look inside your head.

You're in between twenty and thirty, a very desirable age.
You're body is firm and inviting, but you live on a glittering stage.
Your name it is heard in high places. You know the Agha Khan.
He sent you a race horse for Christmas and you keep it just for fun, for a laugh, aha aha.
They say that when you get married, it will be to a millionaire.
But they don't realize where you came from and I wonder if they really care, or give a damn.

But where do you go to my lovely... when you're alone in your bed.
Tell me the thoughts that surround you. I want to look inside your head.

Ah, remember the back streets of Naples, two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition to shake off their lowly-born tags, so they try.
So look into my face Marie-Claire and remember just who you are.
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar deep inside, yes, you do.

Ah, I know where you go to my lovely... when you're alone in your bed.
I know the thoughts that surround you, cause I can look inside your head.

Thanks,

was wondering who that was!