THE funeral of Cilla Black was pitch-perfect.

Priscilla White came into this world 72 years ago and Cilla Black "The Singer" left.

The final chapter of this fairytale was a very dignified event seen by the whole country.

Liverpool is truly proud of one of its greatest success stories – a home grown, household name.

Cilla's three sons, coping with their quiet desperation in private grief, were magnificent to the media throughout.

They showed great dignity in dealing publicly with the totally unexpected departure of their mum.

I did interviews with BBC radio stations from across the UK and some in the US (Hello, IOWA), smiling at the sheer memory of Cilla.

The Midlands were especially keen to know how Liverpool was reacting to the loss of a "Liverpool lass," from Birmingham to Hereford and Worcester and Coventry.

I spoke about her "Midas touch" and ordinariness, and stressed that it was not just Liverpool that would miss her, but Merseyside as a whole – people on both sides of the river admired her.

I told of her childhood memories going to New Brighton as a child and getting on the ferry which was, she laughed, "like being on a cruise liner that you saw in the movies".

But she actually sailed the oceans on Cunard ships as a superstar in her own right, sipping success in champers-filled glasses – but she never, ever forgot her roots.

The turn-out for her funeral from those who never knew her was more than touching.

They lined the roads – people from all over the country throwing flowers at the hearse. Celebrities were equally upset. Paul O’Grady came back home for his "Bezzie pal".

"She was one of us," Birkenhead-born Paul told me.

And that was that.

I went to a Wirral pub and watched the television coverage. You could not hear a clichéd proverbial pin drop.

It was respect from regulars used to watching football.

Just like the funerals that took place in her beloved Scotland Road when working class people said goodbye without saying a word. People watched and thought.

Her remaining Beatle pals Paul and Ringo were not there in Woolton, but there in spirit with their song The Long and Winding Road.

So George and John were there, too. Brian Epstein as well.

At a Wirral railway station last Thursday, I saw a mum with her daughter excitedly clutching a teddy bear and a tiny bouquet, both getting 'day-saver' tickets for Liverpool.

They told me they were simply going to "See Cilla".

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JO Brand is sharp, cutting, never nasty and admirably self-effacing. Her post edition commentary on The Great British Bake Off each Friday is the icing-on-the-cake.

Jo knows all about this compulsive pressure cooker show, having been involved in a Comic Relief version.

Her apron is still with police forensics.

This week she revealed to a Sunday tabloid that Wirral's Paul Hollywood couldn’t take her bake seriously.

"We had to stop filming because Paul laughed so much at my cake that his face got so sweaty and someone had to come and wipe him with a tea towel."

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I AM very happy I cannot get a ticket for Dismaland.

The dark anti-theme park world created by Bristol-born artist Banksy is in Weston-super-Mare.

It is a revelation. Banksy has turned the theme of art imitating life on its head.

Tickets are just £3 to see an anti-tourist attraction, but such is the demand for the limited run they can't cope.

On arrival those with tickets are dealt with by curt staff who couldn’t care less. Those who queue are treated worse.

And for those who phone … the switchboard keeps you on hold for hours, only to cut you off – and they don't offer to ring back.

Disappointment is Dismaland's miserable mission statement.

No one knows who Banksy is, but I wonder if he ever worked as a trainee for Scottish Power.

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AND finally ... what is the most successful copyrighted book of all time? Before you Google it, the answer is The Guinness Book of Records.

It is now 60. What a Global way to pat yourself on the back in your own next edition.

Pure Genius.

Peter Grant