I once met Cliff Richard at a newsagent he bought a conservative paper
which, makes sense since he is loaded? Cliff smiled to everyone in the shop,
I did not, can’t see why I should smile buying a newspaper.
That is the difference between us except he can sing bland songs that are
pleasing to the ear and has got hair. We spoke he was pleased to have
someone to talk to who wasn’t an adoring fan. We drank wine, too much
and I walked him home, he lived nearby. He had forgotten his keys to
the gate, but jauntily jumped over the wall. And that was the last I saw of
Cliff, a slim bum disappearing behind a wall
