Devil Woman is real, say Cliff Richard fans

SEX abuse allegations against Sir Cliff Richard are the result of a long-standing feud with Devil Woman, it has been claimed.

Marjorie Robertson

Fans of Sir Cliff have revealed that he used a 1976 pop song to expose the demonic femme fatale, sparking a 38-year tit-for-tat conflict between the Christian singer and his satanic nemesis.

Senior fan Jane Thompson said: Devil Woman is not the product of some songwriters imagination, she is a real person. She was born Marjorie Robertson in Yeovil in 1954. By the age of 21 she had become a full-time satanist and Lucifers most trusted minion in the South West.

As one of the worlds most important Christians, Sir Cliff was a target and sure enough she tried to assassinate him for the first time in 1975, the year Billie Jean King won her sixth Wimbledon singles title.

He escaped, thanks to Sue Barkers amazing upper body strength, and then quickly assembled a team of crack songwriters so that Christianity could hit back, quick and hard.

When Devil Woman got to number nine the following June, it was a huge victory for Jesus. But the evil within Robertson is particularly strong.

Thompson added: Since then we have been engaged in a secret battle for the soul of Britain. A battle so intense that Cliff was never able to forge a long-term relationship, not even with Sue Barker, the woman who lifted him over her head and threw him into a bin lorry.

And now Devil Woman has escalated this conflict once again with these baseless accusations. We must hope and pray that the police and judicial system are able to resist Marjorie Robertsons powerful sexuality.

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Tian Tian's pregnancy blog

MY first wee problem in that the smell of bamboo is giving me the boke.

How had I never realised before the stuff is fucking rank? Like a bottle of Tippex mixed with old man’s pish. I had to ask the zookeepers to take it all away and bury it.

My husband, Yang Guang, went in the huff cause there’s not much else to eat round here. So the other night, I was like ‘Yang Guang, I could pure go a black pudding supper – gonnie nip out to the van? And can you also get a can of Diet Irn Bru? And a bottle of Gaviscon? Here’s a tenner.’ Took him ages to get off his fat arse and then I got carried away with the Gaviscon and gave myself the skitters. There is literally no aspect of this I am finding magical. Is it all worth it?

And on the big day, what to expect? Folks say panda babies are really toty and it could be a case of ‘sneeze and you’ll miss it’. But what if the baby’s head’s coming out and I’m like ‘och here, that’s just a wee jobby’? But my biggest fear is all these mad psychic dreams I’ve been having. Last night, I dreamt I had the wean and it had the body of a panda and the head of John Leslie.

My guts are mental at the moment. What if I’m in the middle of pushing and I accidentally let out a windy-pop? This happened the other day when I was trying to get a beachball out of my tree and all the tourists started pissing themselves. I was like “It wisnae me, it was a lawnmower’ but they didn’t hear because they were all putting it on YouTube. Last night, I blew off in my sleep and Yang Guang went aff his nut ’cause he said it smelled like petrol and gangrene and I wasn’t a lady to him anymore. Then he stormed out the panda hut and slept in the hedge.

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