Take That and Party (we don't need Robbie Williams)

Thursday will go down as one of my favourite days ever for it was the day that I got to revisit the early 90s, the time that fashion forgot, and do what I was never allowed to do when I was 12. I got to go and scream at Take That!

Now, I was never a huge fan of Gary, Mark, Howard, Jason and Robbie when I was in primary school. I just wasn’t one of those girls who was devastated when Robbie quit or threatened suicide when they split up (although I do remember the day it happened, weird!), I didn’t own their tapes or the dolls or have a TT lunch box nor did I have their posters on my wall. No, I was  a Boyzone fan, there was no room in my heart for anyone other than Ronan Keating. They may have featured on the odd mix tape or two recorded off the radio top 40 countdown on a Sunday evening but that was as far as it went. Well a part from making up a dance to Could it be Magic at my friend Catherine Taylor’s house one rainy afternoon, her brother had it on vinyl and we had a terrible argument because we couldn’t agree on the lyrics!

Love the fact that Nobbie was
photoshopped in as an afterthought!

Nostalgia, it turns out, does strange things to women in their late 20s, 30s, 40s......When the first tour was announced I wasn’t bothered at all about spending a lot of money on seeing a band that I never really liked who were missing a member. By the time the hype got to me it was too late. Everyone but me had a ticket and it turned out to be the most amazing night of their lives, bar none! Suddenly Take That were everywhere, all over the radio and TV, they’d released new CDs and they were doing it all without Robbie and more to the point, doing it brilliantly without Robbie. So I got sucked in and swore that next time they toured I would be there.

I was in Australia when the announced their Progress Tour, it was the middle of the night when the tickets went on sale. I was powerless in the fight to get hold of the small pieces of card that meant the difference between total bliss and crushing misery. I had arranged with Bride 3 that she and a small army of minions would try to get tickets for us, Groom 3, Chief Bridesmaid 3 and her boyfriend and that we’d go as a merry band of five. I put my trust in them and tried to sleep...

Imagine my delight when I switched on my lap top the following morning to find an email in my inbox with the subject line I GOT THEM!!!!!!!! and nothing else.  Of course when I explained to the Aussies in my office what the stupid grin on my face was for, they didn’t have a clue, but I didn’t care if they thought I was nuts, or more nuts than normal, I was very very excited!

More precious than gold dust

Nine months later we found ourselves sat on the floor of Wembley stadium with 85,116 other people that had managed to get tickets, two hours early. The sense of excitement and oestrogen levels were through the roof (not that Wembley has a roof) and it felt totally different to the last time I was there jetlagged after getting straight off a 24 hour nightmare journey from Costa Rica to watch my beloved Pompey lost on penalties to Man Utd in the FA Community Shield match 2008.

I’d never been to a big stadium gig before so I didn’t really know what to expect. It pretty much blew me away. The supporting act was The Pet Shop Boys, who I thought were a strange choice for what was essentially a grown up teenybopper party, but it worked. They were pretty fabulous and electropopped their way through 45 minutes of hits with their strange cuboid dancers!

Pet Shop Boys

By this point Wembley was nearly full, I tried in vain to hunt for some other friends that were there, that was pointless! More and more people piled in. We were squashed and couldn’t see much but we were right in the thick of it! There was a two minute countdown on the screen and then it began...

I was hooked from the beginning when they opened with Rule the World, one of my favourite new ones, sans Robbie. It was a bit touch and go when they made us sing the national anthem (at a concert, seriously?!) but I screamed, I shouted along, I waved my arms like a mad thing and I jumped up and down all with that mad grin on my face until...they brought out Robbie...

My heart sank, I was rather hoping that he had pulled out and buggered off to space, or prison, but no here he was arsing about on stage as if to all the world he wasn’t the most annoying and ridiculous smug git on the planet. This was all much to the screaming delight of all the mad women and some of the poor trampled on, dragged along men too. He shall be hereafter unaffectionately known as Dobbie or perhaps Nobbie for he is a giant walking penis. He swore profusely, he sweated even more profusely and he danced around with his hand down the front of his trousers. Add to the mix a sprinkling of insincere patriotism, looking old, wheezing through the routines and forgetting the words to his own songs along with lying on some moving scaffolding over the crowd so that we could touch his precious fingers and he lost me. I thought he came across as a total arsehole but perhaps that was just me, everyone else seemed to love it, and him. Luckily, after a vomit inducing rendition of Angels dedicated to those that had 'passed on' or simply weren't with us because they hadn't gotten tickets, he wheezed his way offstage and we could go back to the real reason we were there – the other four non-nobhead members of the band. Hoorah!

Look at me, I'm god! No you're
just a big nobhead with no nob!

Oh Nobbie, you're too old to
behave like a douche!

Jump, jump, jump!
Wishful thinking...

They then did some of their newer stuff which, as I hadn't done my homework since coming back from Oz, I didn't really know. But they did have some phenomenally mental dancers on ropes doing gymnastics in a wall of water though – that was pretty clever!

Weeeeeeeeee!

Then came the bit I was waiting for...a grand piano appeared and the 90s were cranked up to the max. The deep recesses of my brain where I keep useless information and song lyrics didn’t let me down and it was AWESOME! They even resurrected some of their classic retro dance moves and flung some shapes 90s style – hats off to them I say!

Watch those necks boys!
You don't want to pull something!

Really though we were all waiting for Never Forget. Pray was good, A Million Love Songs happened, Back for Good predictably went off, the snippets of Take That and Party and Could it be Magic offered some comic relief but everyone loves Never Forget, so we waited with baited breath, knowing that with each song it got closer. The giant robot made its way along the sticking out bit of stage carrying the boys until it got to the end and they started singing the choir bit a capella and everyone went nuts. Six and a half minutes of utter pleasure, 85,121 people united with their arms in the air clapping and singing at the top of their voices. It was almost worth the £60 just for that on its own, almost!

By the end of Never Forget the robot was
standing with his arms out - very clever!

Well 85,120 actually because this guy had his earplugs in...odd place to find yourself if you're not a fan!

Pink and blue shirt man is wearing earplugs
I didn't think my singing was that bad!

I've had some pretty spectacular days in my capacity as a Travel Trollop, I've been diving with Manta Rays and sharks, held a wild anaconda, seen sunrise over Uluru and Angkor Wat, abseiled down waterfalls, seen jaguars in the wild, been to Rio, hugged a 1300 year old tree, climbed Sydney Harbour Bridge but I have to say that this was right up there with all of them!

Gush over, back to reality....