Last night we watched a man with a smug, “look at me I’m brilliant” face interview a man with a smug, “look at me I’m brilliant” face.

Yes indeed, last night Piers Morgan was granted exclusive access to Sir Clifford of Richard. I was hoping for an in depth analysis of the man behind the mystery, the Peter Pan of pop, the man who has had a number one hit every decade since the 1950s, the man who is secretly gay but will never admit it. 

As I have said before in a past blog, I used to like Cliff’s early output of pop tunes. I said in the last blog regarding Cliff, (I can’t be arsed wading through them to find it) if he had died young we would all think him cool.

He comes across these days as a smug, arrogant, self important, repressed tit of a man who would nail your feet to the floor in order to gain a column inch or two. I was glad to be about to watch a programme that would prove that image wrong. Unfortunately, (and it might have been the editing), Cliff managed to portray himself as a smug, arrogant, self important, repressed tit of a man who would nail your feet to the floor in order to gain a column inch or two.

Piers Morgan is not an interviewer with a great deal of danger. His technique seems to come from Smash Hits circa 1987. I am sure everyone watching was waiting for the big question, but it was skated around.