Michael Sumner is the proud owner of what must be the most bizarre collection of vinyl records in the land. Over the years, this DJ and record salesman has scoured car-boot sales, charity stores and second-hand record shops from Malaysia to Mozambique, from California to Kazakhstan – all in search of the weirdest and wackiest album and single covers he can find.

The most horrendous of them now feature in his new book, 101 Terrible Record Sleeves. They include photos of ventriloquists’ dolls, a guitar-wielding robot, boxers in the shower, frankfurter sausages on the Moon, a cowboy on a rocking-horse, and a dwarf who once acted as an Oompa-Loompa in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.

Sumner’s unusual hobby is a consequence of his day job, which involves hunting down quality second-hand vinyl records he then sells at a shop in Ventnor, on the Isle of Wight.

During his rummaging, he regularly comes across record sleeves adorned with images that are hilarious, rude, in shockingly bad taste, or just downright weird.

“If ever I found one that was particularly amusing, I’d buy it, just for a bit of fun,” says this 48-year-old from Shanklin, on the Isle of Wight. “A few of my friends were doing a similar thing, and we found ourselves comparing who had the naffest record sleeves. Then I noticed my collection of bad sleeves was growing.”

Five years ago, Sumner moved briefly to Eastern Europe, a region he found to be a rich source of “naff record sleeves”.

“Particularly Serbia, for some reason,” he adds. “Don’t ask me why.” 12-inch and 7-inch sleeves from the 1970s – before political correctness had taken hold – provided him with enormous amusement, too.

In his book, several musicians from that era have happily pictured semi-naked models in suggestive poses on the cover.

“It makes you realise how society and our values have changed,” Sumner explains. “What is acceptable is always moving, always shifting.” He points out how, in 20 years’ time, even some of the covers of modern-day records and CDs will look preposterous.

Some of the records he unearthed during his travels were in such bad taste he felt he wasn’t able to include them in his book. On one album recorded by rockers Status Quo, for example, the image seemed to glorify domestic violence. While certain of the death metal records he found featured deeply misogynistic pictures.

The owners of the shops and market stalls Summer visited struggled to understand why he plumped straight for the cheesy stuff.

“In Dresden, in Germany, I went to this old boy’s shop, and he was proudly showing me his Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix records,” he remembers. “I said, ‘That’s very nice, but can you show me where your rubbish ones are?’ I was there for hours and pulled out loads of great sleeves. He was baffled as to why I was buying all this junk.

“Then I realised I had to walk across the city to the bus station. So I took all the discs out of their sleeves and gave them back to him. He was even more baffled then.

“I want to send him a copy of my book so he doesn’t think I’m this crazy Englishman.”

With so many terrible records to choose from, Sumner struggles to pinpoint his very worst of all. When push comes to shove, though, he opts for a 1981 German satirical album, called Leberkäs’ Hawaii, which features satirist Gerhard Polt’s head atop pineapple slices, liver and some wilted lettuce.

Sumner says: “Among all the others, it really is the most bizarre of all.”