It looks like a minor victory is about to be won. Let’s Get Ready to Rhumble is set to become the UK’s number one single this Sunday – 19 years after Ant and Dec, aka PJ & Duncan, first released it. This is the sort of thing (my) dreams are made of. The song only made number nine in the charts the first time round – when did Ant and Dec suddenly become so cool?
They certainly weren’t cool in my neck of the woods in 1994. The only teeny boppers in our school, my partner in crime and I were routinely ridiculed for our love of PJ & Duncan and, mainly, Take That. To be fair, we didn’t help ourselves. All of our pocket money was spent on concert tickets and haring around the country in pursuit of our idols, with some interesting results.
Sitting on Robbie Williams’ lap, aged 17, in the passenger seat of my aforementioned partner in crime’s Ford Fiesta has to be the highlight, although there were lows. Like standing outside the Top Of The Pops studio in the pouring rain for a glimpse of I can’t remember who, only to get a glimpse of Ian Beale from EastEnders instead, the set of which was at the same studio.
Sadly, this part of my life is now consigned to several large boxes of photographs, banners, autographs and copies of Smash Hits in the garage – much to the chagrin of Misery Guts, who complains about them every time we move house. And when, as die hard Take That fans, my partner in crime and I were invited to take part in an ITV documentary marking the 10 year anniversary of the demise of the band, Misery Guts simply put his head in his hands. Luckily for him, we were the Robbie fans and because Robbie subsequently refused to be involved in the documentary, our bit was cut out.
So when Ant and Dec performed Let’s Get Ready to Rhumble on their TV show last Saturday and Misery Guts realised I knew all the words, it was Head In The Hands time again. (I decided against telling him we once met the pair after camping outside BBC TV centre to see them for hours on end one freezing February (pictured), and that we later purposely booked into the same hotel to meet them again – and get the photo signed).
I’m afraid there may be lots more Head In The Hands occasions on the cards: this 1990s reprisal of Ant and Dec’s has reignited a spark and it got me thinking: I sincerely hope BB catches the same bug when she grows up.
After all, there are far worse things a teenager could be doing than chasing boy bands about the place, and they’re – generally – good role models (with the exception of post Take That/pre Glastonbury Robbie, but no-one’s perfect). Even if they can’t spell. (Note rhumble as opposed to rumble).
There’s a good chance BB will be game – she was indoctrinated at an early age. Just three weeks before she was due I could be found surrounded by 80,000 screaming fans at Wembley Stadium watching Take That in concert – two nights in a row. BB loved it. And one of the first items of clothes I bought her was a baby grow emblazoned with the words ‘Me and Mummy love Take That’ (pictured).
There’s no telling who the boy band of the moment will be in 2023, but I can’t wait to get rhumbling again! I’ve always sworn I will not live vicariously through my children, but it may prove sorely tempting. Some mothers want their children to become doctors, others lawyers, others bankers, but if mine wants to become a teeny bopper when she grows up, that’s just fine by me.
I’ll be the proudest mummy in the world.