Lorne Jackson - no stranger to interviewing celebrities - chats with the daddy of them all... Basil Brush.

People often ask what ‘they’ are like.

‘They’ being celebrities.

“You’ve met a few in your time,” wide-eyed friends gush. “Describe ‘em in the flesh!”

For those interested in such tittle-tattle, here’s a brief summary.

Stallone – not as big as you’d think. Parton – bigger than you could possibly desire.

Willis – very big. His head, that is. The lurk of a smirk is never far away, when Bruce is around.

Then there’s the most scintillating star of all.

A performer with the insouciant charm of Hugh Grant, the comic timing of Jimmy Carr, and the teeth of Terry Thomas.

It’s Basil Brush, of course. Mr Boom-Boom Bombastic, himself.

Or Baz, as I now feel entitled to call him, after we got on so well during a very affable chat.

BB was in town plugging Cinderella, the latest Birmingham Hippodrome panto, which he’ll star in, alongside Brian Conley and Lynda Bellingham.

And he’s exactly as you would imagine.

The clipped and caddish voice isn’t fake – he’s certainly no meerkat in disguise. I was also relieved to discover Baz doesn’t dye his hair.

Not a glimpse of grey in the bristles of his brush. Still jauntily ginger after all these years.

His act hasn’t changed much, either.

The Christmas panto could have been the perfect opportunity to break free of the typecasting he’s regrettably become associated with. Time to cross-dress, perhaps, and star as Cinders.

But no. He’ll play the foppish fox, as always.

Baron Basil is his role, and I must admit he looked splendidly aristocratic in a crushed velvet waistcoat, when we were introduced in his Hippodrome dressing room.

Clearly a man – sorry, fox – who takes great pleasure in the finer things in life.

Does this mean Hippodrome staff can expect diva-style strops? Will he be demanding a juicy rider to go with each performance?

“Well, you can see my rider just here,” he says, pointing with his nose to a plate of brightly coloured sweets and biscuits on a nearby shelf.

“Jelly babies and more jelly babies, and flowers for ME, and a good luck card for ME. And a giant poster on the wall of ME.

“Oh, and they’ve provided me with a car...”

What kind of car does he drive?

“A Rolls Canardly,” he reveals.

I nod, too embarrassed to admit to my new chum that I haven’t heard of that particular make. Then Baz fills me in.

“It rolls down the hill then can ‘ardly get up the other side. Ha, ha! D’you gerrit? Boom-BOOM!”

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Baz loves the most grizzled of guffaws. He’s getting on in years, himself.