LET'S GO TO SIR CLIFF'S HOUSE!

Today's the day we've all been waiting for, everyone! It's the day we go to Sir Cliff's house! 

It's a long drive to where Sir Cliff lives, so make sure you've had a wee before we leave. And don't forget your travel sickness pills! 

Has everybody packed their sandwiches, and brought something to read? Have you put on your sunscreen? Good. Then let's go! Sir Cliff's house is waiting for us!

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AFTER A LONG DRIVE WE'VE FINALLY ARRIVE IN THE ROYAL COUNTY OF BERKSHIRE - WHERE SIR CLIFF HAS HIS HOME.

LOOKS LIKE THE ADDRESS WE BOUGHT OFF THAT MAN ONLINE WAS RIGHT - THOSE BEAUTIFUL BROWN GATES CAN BELONG TO ONLY ONE PERSON... THE PETER PAN OF POP HIMSELF - MR SIR CLIFF RICHARD!

TOO BAD WE DON'T HAVE THE SECURITY CODE FOR THE BROWN GATES. GUESS WE'LL HAVE TO BUNK OVER THE WALL. JUST AS WELL WE'RE SUPER-COOL PARKOUR DUDES! CLIIIIMMBBBBBB-BBBB-B.

WOW. THERE IT IS. CLIFF'S HOUSE. IT'S BIGGER AND MORE PALE THAN WE COULD'VE EVER IMAGINED. PLUS, THE AIR IS ARTIFICIALLY SCENTED TO SMELL LIKE VEINS.

LOOK AT THIS PLACE! THE TREES AND BUSHES FEEL CLAMMY, LIKE HUMAN FLESH, AND RECOIL WHEN YOU TOUCH THEM!

HUBBA HUBBA! ONLY A TRUE LADIES MAN LIKE SIR CLIFF RICHARD - THE HARRY WEBB OF POP - WOULD HAVE A STATUE LIKE THAT, WHICH SCREAMS CONSTANTLY.

OH NO! THERE'S A CAR COMING - AND THERE'S NOWHERE TO HIDE! WHAT SHOULD WE DO??!

TOO LATE! THE WINDOW ROLLS DOWN, AND... IT'S HIM! IT'S SIR CLIFF RICHARD HIMSELF! "HEY YOU GUYS",​ SAYS SIR CLIFF. "I'M MR SIR CLIFF RICHARD. WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE GROUNDS OF MY HOME?". 

"NEVER MIND," CONTINUES SIR CLIFF, BEFORE YOU CAN THINK OF AN EXCUSE. "WHY DON'T I GIVE YOU THE TOUR?". YIPPEE!!!! SIR CLIFF RICHARD IS GOING TO SHOW US AROUND HIS HOME! THIS IS BETTER THAN BEING ARRESTED FOR BREAKING AND ENTERING!

"THIS IS THE ENTRANCE HALL OF MY HOME", SAYS SIR CLIFF, PROUDLY. "SOMETIMES I LIKE TO SURPRISE MY GUESTS BY PRETENDING TO HAVE DROWNED IN THE POOL. WHEN THEY GET CLOSE TO INSPECT MY CORPSE, I LEAP OUT OF THE WATER, TILT MY HEAD BACK, AND ADVANCE ON THEM, CLENCHING AND UNCLENCHING MY FISTS WHILE HUMMING AND BUZZING."

SIR CLIFF LEADS US TO AN ADJOINING ROOM. "THIS IS THE PARLOUR WHERE I KEEP MY BRIDES," MUMBLES CLIFF, BEFORE QUICKLY SHUTTING THE DOOR. "I NEVER REMOVE THE PLASTIC," HE MUTTTERS, WHILE STARING INTENTLY AT OUR THROATS. "EVER."

CLIFF LEADS US TO AN ELEVATOR, SUDDENLY. "EVERYONE INSIDE," HE ANNOUNCES WITH A CLAP OF HIS HANDS, AND THREE STAMPS OF HIS LEFT FOOT. "GOING UP!". AS WE ASCEND, SIR CLIFF LAUGHS AND LAUGHS WHILE SHAKING HIS HEAD, AS IF HE CAN'T BELIEVE HIS OWN LUCK IN OWNING SUCH A BEAUTIFUL HOME.

AFTER FOUR AND A HALF HOURS, THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPEN ON A LONG HALLWAY. "THIS IS WHAT THE UPSTAIRS OF MY HOME LOOKS LIKE," BELLOWS SIR CLIFF, STRIDING ONWARDS, BECKONING US TO FOLLOW, WITH A JERK AND A CLICK OF HIS SPINE.

SIR CLIFF OPENS A BIG DOOR, WHICH LEADS ONTO THE MASTER BEDROOM. "I SLEEP IN HERE," HE SAYS, SADLY. "SOMETIMES I DREAM ABOUT AN EXCITING ADVENTURE WITH A WOOLLY DRAGON THAT HAS MOOBS. IT'S MY ESCAPE FROM THE PRESSURES OF FAME. IT'S THE ONLY TIME I CAN TRULY BE MYSELF."

SIR CLIFF HEADS OFF TO ANOTHER ROOM - "THE GUEST ROOM," HE INFORMS US. "THIS IS WHERE YOU'LL BE STAYING. IF YOU NEED ME, I'LL BE RIGHT NEXT DOOR, TOUCHING MY LEGS WITH A BRUSH AND A PUPPET. I HOPE MY NOISES DON'T KEEP YOU AWAKE."

"THERE'S ONE LAST ROOM I WANT YOU TO SEE," ​CROAKS SIR CLIFF. "IT'S MY TROPHY ROOM". HE OPENS THE TROPHY ROOM DOOR, AND LOOKS INSIDE, SAYING NOTHING, FOR A SOLID FIVE MINUTES.

"WELL, THAT'S THE END OF THE TOUR," SAYS SIR CLIFF. "I HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOURSELVES. I KNOW I DID. IN FACT, I HAD SO MUCH FUN THAT I HAVE DECIDED TO END MY LIFE. GOODBYE."

AND WITH THAT, A FLYING SILVER CAR DESCENDS FROM THE SKY, AND TWO CARERS FROM DIGNITAS, THE SWISS SUICIDE CLINIC, GET OUT. "WE ARE ZARBU AND ZARNU, AND WE'RE TAKING SIR CLIFF BACK TO SWITZERLAND WITH US," THEY SAY IN THEIR NATIVE TONGUE. "THERE HE WILL GO ON ONE FINAL JOURNEY... TO THE SUICIDE ROOM ON THE TOP FLOOR OF OUR FACILITY, AND SMASH BISCUITS INTO HIS SCALP UNTIL HE DIES."

ZARBU AND ZARNU BUNDLE A DAZED SIR CLIFF INTO THE BACK OF THE FLYING CAR. THE PETER PAN OF HARRY WEBB WAVES AT US, SADLY, AS THE MAGICAL VEHICLE LIFTS OFF, AND DISAPPEARS INTO A CLOUD. IT IS THE LAST TIME ANYONE WILL SEE HIM ALIVE.

WOW! WHAT A DAY! WE GOT TO MEET OUR HERO, AND INHERIT HIS HOME! THEY'RE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE IT WHEN WE POST THIS ON INSTAGRAM!

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