Clifford the creep and a tricky tango

There’s an enjoya-ble little game you can play in which one player reads out a passage from the index of a biography or autobiography, and the other player has to guess who the book is about.

For instance, can you guess who this is, just by reading this index: ‘Newspapers: respect for editorial independence of; Characteristics: achievements and ambitions . . . pride in being British . . . self-confidence . . . courage . . . decisive . . . generosity . . . linguistic abilities . . . ’

The answer, oddly enough, is robert Maxwell, now recognised as one of the greatest frauds of the second half of the 20th century. It’s an extract from the index to Maxwell, the semi-authorised biography by Joe haines, first published in 1988, when Maxwell was in his prime.

here’s another. Can you work out whose authorised biography this index comes from? Under ‘Charac-ter and attributes’ we find: ‘ambition and drive; bureaucracy, anathema to; confi-dence; desire to help people; enjoyment of sex; generosity; honesty; keeps secrets; love of sport; personal tastes; political interests; positive attitude; sense of fairness; sense of humour . . . ’

The answer is Max Clifford. his authorised biography, read All About It, written by Angela Levin, was published in 2005. Its title turned out to be a misnomer. In 2014, he was convicted on eight counts of sexual assault, one against a girl of 15, and sentenced to eight years in prison.

‘ Max Clifford . . . has a strong sense of family and a mischievous sense of humour’, reads the book’s blurb. ‘he was happily married for nearly 40 years, until his wife died of cancer in 2003 . . .he is a man with an invincible determination to win and remains resolutely positive about the future.’

It goes on to say the book ‘reveals the man behind his image, high-lighting the contrasts in his char-acter . . .he explains how he works, how he makes his deals, his extraordinary work for charity’.

There follows a work of shame-less gush. It begins with his sister recalling little Max’s birth, in 1943. ‘his arrival was quite wonderful . . . he was a very good baby.’ she goes on to say it ‘shone a bright light in those dark times’. We hear how, on his first day at school, young Max saved a weaker lad from a bully. ‘I’ve always hated bullies . . .in fact, I have always helped people and supported the underdog.’ At this point, Angela Levin might have mentioned that his future clients included Mohamed Fayed and O.J. simpson and that he gave free advice to the young men later convicted of the cold- blooded murder of stephen Lawrence.

she litters her book with Clifford’s tributes to himself, his generosity, his modesty, his love of women. ‘I’ve always taken care of myself and at the same time tried in a small way to help other people, by giving money to charity, influencing the media and offering the needy support. Perhaps it’s a naively simple way of living a socialist life, but that’s what I do . . . I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I didn’t.’

every now and then, in case the reader might be worried Clifford is over- reaching himself, Levin confirms quite how wonderful he is. ‘ Max doesn’t publicise what he does, or how much he gives . . . Max is partic-ularly generous at Christmas time.’

she even solicits quotes from his biggest fans. ‘ he is a great public relations guy, efficient, commu-nicative, human and sincere’, says Mohamed Fayed.

Valerie harkness, whose kiss- and- tell story about the maverick Tory MP Alan Clark was handled by Clifford, calls him ‘a true man of the people, a charismatic person who under-stands the human condition’. MAx admits to some extra-marital affairs, but gives no indica-tion of forcing women into sexual acts against their will. ‘ Knowing a woman is enjoying herself enhances my own enjoyment, and I have taken a per-sonal pride in giving women pleas-ure,’ he assures the reader, who may, by now, feel a little queasy.

Of course, Levin could not have known at the time that these alle-gations would emerge years later — she says she was ‘shocked’ by his arrest. You could argue, I sup-pose, that Angela Levin is just a jobbing writer, and that all she did was take the money and run.

But last night, Channel 4 screened Max Clifford: The Fall Of A Tabloid King, which was heavily reliant on 100 hours of ‘previously unheard’ tapes, which Angela Levin gave the film-makers.

Perhaps she thought that by doing so, she would exonerate herself from having indulged in a literary tango with a creep.

Unfortunately, she cannot make their shared book disappear. Instead, like a Victorian phantom, it will stick around to haunt her.