So Cliff turned around and said: What a turn-up!
WHEN someone says something to you, how often do you swivel your body around in a circle before making your reply? Personally, I can’t remember ever turning around before making a reply, other than during a game of Grandmother’s Footsteps. But a great many people, particularly sportsmen, seem to turn around all the time. Apparently they hardly ever say anything without first twisting 360 degrees. Witness this conversation 13 years ago between coach Duncan Fletcher, who had just taken charge of the England cricket team, and the young cricketer Graeme Swann. As Fletcher recalled it, he took Swann to one side in the departure lounge at Heathrow and asked him where he wanted to be in five years’ time. ‘Graeme turned around and said: “I am going to be the best spin bowler in the world.”’ And it isn’t only in the world of cricket that conversations are punctuated by extravagant pirouettes. After the footballer Richard Dunne left Manchester City for Aston Villa in 2009, he claimed to have been promised a testimonial by the then Manchester City chief executive Garry Cook: ‘He promised me a testimonial and then, three days ago, turned around and said that I wouldn’t be getting a testimonial and that he’d never said I was entitled to one.’ I often overhear conversations relating these endless turningsaround. If you go into a pub, you can be sure to hear at least one person saying: ‘So I turned around and said . . . And then he turned around and said . . .’ It sometimes seems as though nothing can ever be said without the speaker turning around first. The world of the saloon bar is full of movement, populated by whirling dervishes and prima ballerinas. And, from what they say, it is not uncommon to see huge crowds turn around on cue at exactly the same time. The singing drummer Phil Collins was once witness to this dramatic phenomenon, as he confessed to an interviewer in 1994. ‘I moved to Switzerland because I’d fallen in love with a woman who lived on Lake Geneva. I said at the time, I’d have moved to Grimsby if she happened to live there. Inevitably, everyone in Grimsby turned around and said: “Why’s he having a pop at Grimsby?” ’ It would have been exciting to be in Grimsby for this spectacular piece of choreography. And it’s a shame to waste such a disciplined crew. Perhaps the entire population of Grimsby might be persuaded to travel to London to turn around and around in the opening ceremony for the forthcoming Olympic Games? Cliff Richard is another pop star who expects people to turn around before making any sort of announcement. In 2008, it emerged that General Franco had rigged the vote for the 1968 Eurovision Song Contest, ensuring that Cliff failed to come first. Sir Cliff commented at the time: ‘I’ve lived with this number two thing for so many years that it would be wonderful if someone official from the contest turned around and said: “Cliff, you won that darn thing after all.” ’ The farmer behind the Glastonbury Festival, Michael Eavis, has experienced similar swivelling, this time by the pop stars themselves. In 2008, he complained that Glastonbury was on the verge of collapse, deserted by disloyal musicians who thought it was going down the pan. ‘It was scary as hell for weeks,’ he recalled to The Guardian. ‘I think that I lost half a stone. I couldn’t sleep. What really annoyed me were all those bands that said they were our friends who turned around and said: “Ah, Glastonbury’s over now.” ’ Political diaries, too, are full of people turning around before saying things, even in the most embarrassing circumstances. Attending a Nato summit in July 1997, Alastair Campbell recalls in his diary ‘ a bizarre scene . . . in the gents. Several leaders . . . were having a pee in a row of stand-up urinals. Clinton turned around and said: “Isn’t this the greatest picture that was never taken?” ’
THIS passage leaves several sticky questions unanswered, the most crucial of which is whether Bill Clinton finished the job in hand before turning around. (Incidentally, Tony Blair then tells Clinton a funny story about Winston Churchill. Apparently, Churchill moved away from Labour leader Clement Attlee while they were peeing together. Churchill explained: ‘Every time you see something big, you want to nationalise it.’) Happily, every now and then, eminent people refuse to twist. Back in July 2009, David Beckham gave an interview to the Mail describing his friend Tom Cruise’s interest in Scientology: ‘ It’s something I respect, because Tom’s explained to me and Victoria what it’s all about. But he’s never turned around and said: “That is what you should be doing.” ’ Such restraint is to be applauded: let’s hope it catches on before we all grow dreadfully dizzy.