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Sunday, 30 September 2007

image for Ronnie Wood: The night I told George Harrison I was sleeping with Cliff Richard Wood: "wondering what the fuck I'd been winding him up with the previous evening"

Barking, London - (Colossal Mess): Musician Ronnie Wood tells reporters about night he told George Harrison about his passionate three year fling with porn-again believer Cliff Richard:

One night at George's house, Friar Park, in Henley, we were having a quiet night in. Ounce of skunk, a couple of Afghani Black bongs, crate of Chateau Latour '86, twenty rocks of crack. Usual kind of night in really.

But I needed to talk to my old pal. So I took George aside and told him what I'd been up to with Cliff Richard at his Barbados beachside hacienda-style bijou villa Les Miserables.

George's been a confidante of mine for a number of years and always gives it to me straight.

So when I said 'George, have I messed up bad?' I knew I'd get an honest reply.

George was seemingly unflustered and didn't say much at first.

But I could see he was deep in thought. Or stoned. Or pissed. Or both.

So I bided my time.

After another five spliffs and a magnum each of the 1980 Pol Roger, George turned around and said to me:

What you wanna do that for Ronnie?

Ya really fancy that po-faced prick?

Or is it something deeper, Ronnie? Maybe something that runs in the family, eh?

'Perish the thought, George!' I said, stung by the innuendo.

Perish the thought!

When bedtime came the two of us stood on the landing outside our respective bedrooms.

'Are we going to do this, George?' I asked.

'I'll see you in hell first Ronnie, filthy little perv!', George replied and in we went our separate ways.

The following afternoon I was woken by George, who informed me that he had called Barbados and talked to Cliff.

'So it's true allright,' George said to me, 'that Cliff Richard story. What ya gonna do when the wife finds out?'

For a moment I stared blankly at George's enigmatic face, wondering what the fuck I'd been winding him up with the previous evening.

Nothing, George, nothing.

I expect she already knows!

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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