Cher

I  saw Cher last night at the O2. She was fantastic. The woman’s a goddess. She’s one of a handful of artists, like the Beatles, whose music is so big, you not only know all the songs but find you know most of the words, just because you’ve incidentally absorbed them throughout your life.

She started by saying she’s 73 and by rights should have reached her sell-by date, but she still had it. ‘What’s your grandmother doing tonight?’ That kind of ego might be unattractive, but on her it inspires love and admiration. As I left the arena I heard one woman say ‘I want her body’ and another group of friends hugging before they split up to go their separate ways, declaring ‘we’re all Cher!’

She belted out 50 years of hits with that amazing voice as powerful as ever, striding around the stage, strutting her stuff with such ease and confidence.

She changed from one fabulous costume to the next about every two songs, the show not missing a beat as the set changed with a huge video backdrop showing a starry sky, flames, fireworks, downtown Memphis, a Burlesque club, black and white footage of her and Sonny and clips of her films; a gantry in front of it providing two levels for dancers, acrobats and musicians.

Her hair changed from blue to black, to blonde, to auburn to white as she worked her way through The Beat Goes On, If I Could Turn Back Time, Strong, Walking in Memphis. She even sang I Got You Babe, Sonny and Cher’s greatest hit. “I didn’t know how I’d feel about doing this one, but hey, he liked it, you like it, I like it. And if I didn’t do it this time I could always do it on my next farewell tour”.

All of this has nothing whatsoever to do with Chiswick. I just wanted to CHER

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See also: Bloody technology

See also: Downton Abbey ‘pure escapism’