Cliff Richard

According to the local paper, Cliff Richard has come amongst us. And what is more he has done a Diana, Princess of Wales, at a Melbourne hospital - visiting a ward completely unannounced (possibly the only way he ever visits anywhere if he wants to be certain of finding people in). One patient is quoted as saying that she'd never ever thought she'd meet Cliff Richard. 'Never in a million years,' she told the reporter. The crucial question - did she ever want to? - doesn't seem to have been put. Sir Cliff himself, (or 'sir' Cliff as the writer sensibly describes him, to start with), 'said he was just happy to have played a minor part in helping cheer up the patients' day.' Patronising git - had they asked to see him? He 'said he had also been touched after a patient recalled how he remembered Summer Holiday being played on the radio.' Wow - it's not exactly a life changing experience he's talking about is it? 'You forget how you've become a part of people's memories,' the singer said.' In my mind's eye, I can see the scene. Some poor bloke hooked up to an iv with a weird, plastic-faced '69-year-old music legend' hovering over him. 'Hi, I'm Cliff Richard.' 'Who?' 'Cliff Richard.' 'Who?' 'Cliff Richard, you know, the singer.' 'No, sorry mate.' 'You must remember' Runs through countless dull, forgettable so-called hits he's inflicted on the world. 'Oh, Summer Holiday, yes, maybe - sing me a few bars.' Cliff obliges. 'Yes, I remember that being played on the radio.' (Too polite to add that he was glad when at last the insufferable ditty stopped being played on the radio and he only remembers it because it was so unbearably maddening and wet.)