I don’t remember where I was when Robbie Williams left Take That. Taking into account that I’m from Galway, I was probably stoned in a ditch somewhere. I do remember, though, that they had to open phone helplines in the UK, so distraught were TT fans. There was mass weeping and wringing of hands. There were snotty sleeves from Cornwall to Inverness. There was live footage on reputable news shows of howling teenage girls hanging onto one another for dear life, gurning through puffered-closed eyes at the cameras. It was bloody horrible. I didn’t understand it then, and even with the benefit of hindsight, I don’t understand it now. You’d swear Paul Ince was after leaving Man Utd or something. I’m reminded of such hormonal tsunamis as the Robbie Williams Meltdown whenever I see a Bieber-bot on Twitter. I shouldn’t really call them Bieber-bots, because they’re not really bots, and … There’s more →