I would not have called myself a big fan but I once went to interview Lionel Richie, in Paris, almost entirely for my own amusement. I shall explain.

I arrived at the luxurious George V hotel at the appointed time, the receptionist called up to Monsieur Ree-shee’s room, and I took the lift up.

Upon arrival I knocked at the door, heart pounding, awaiting the moment I had been anticipating ever since I accepted the assignment.

The door opened and a very cool-looking dude dressed all in black, right down to huge Prada biker boots, opened the door and smiled.

“Hello,” I said. “Hey you must be Tim,” he replied. “Come inside.”

I paused. “This isn’t quite how I imagined this,” I confided. “Can we try it again?”

Lionel looked momentarily confused. Then he smiled again. “Sure,” he said, and closed the door.

I knocked again. The door opened again. I said “Hello” again.

Lionel looked quizzically at me and replied: “Is it me you’re looking for?”

I just stood there guffawing and slapping my thigh like a panto character while Lionel looked on with a sad smile at the halfwit who had travelled to France to crack a joke he had probably heard a thousand times before.

But he played along. We had a long chat he turned out to be a very nice man. I could have stayed all night long.

I just wish I had seen Cilla’s cover version and video – oh god, the video! – so I could have asked him his views on this.