As far as the eye can see there are over-excited women in their late twenties and thirties sporting impressive cleavages and pink sequinned hats.

 

Wearing Gary Barlow T-shirts, they clutch plastic pint glasses along with their hog roast rolls and camera phones.

 

The noise is an ear-splitting mix of cheering, singing, foot-stamping and screaming as Mexican wave upon Mexican wave races through the capacity crowd at Newcastle's Metroradio Arena.

 

Finally, just as it seems some of the especially well-refreshed ladies might explode, a video on the huge screen above the stage shows four 30-something men in velvet pail coats and frilly white shirts.

 

One is short and cute, one is blond and fat and two are very tall and very thin with matching bad hair caked in sticky products.

 

They're in a weird Star Trekesque chamber being gradually unfrozen: their eyes open, stiff hands unfurl and hands and legs start working again.

 

Seconds later, amid a massive light spectacular, they bound on to the stage. Nine thousand women - and a smattering of red-faced men - go berserk, yelling, crying and jumping up and down.

 

"Hello, I'm Jason" (lots of yelling for the dancing one) - "And I'm Howie", (not quite so much yelling for the dreadlocked one) - "And I'm Mark" (more yelling than you could imagine for the pretty one) and "I'm Gary" (almost as much for the boring one with the talent). "And we are Take That!" Meltdown.

 

If the crowd is in seventh heaven, as they launch into Once You've Tasted Love, the boys - sorry, men - on stage can't believe they've finally been "transported" into the 21st century and keep grabbing each other and grinning.

 

Even chubby Barlow is high-fiving and heel- clicking all the way through Pray, Today I've Lost You, and the wonderfully disco camp It Only Takes A Minute.

 

For a minute, we've forgotten all about Robbie Williams who since storming out of the band has become an international star with a £78million fortune.

 

Although he once dismissed the prospect of a reunion tour, there's talk of him putting in an appearance at one of the Manchester concerts.

 

When Take That announced their split on February 13, 1996, millions of teenage hearts shattered into teeny pieces and the Samaritans set up a help line to comfort distraught fans.

 

Last night, ten years later - and the first date of their much heralded comeback tour for which they're being paid a reputed £1.5million each - it was as if they had never been away.

 

The songs are just as good and the routines just as fantastically, brilliantly, or inspiringly awful. Gary and Mark still can't dance.

 

Gary's just too fat and looks more like someone's drunken dad at a wedding disco than a pop star.

 

They may be a bit older and creakier but they're trying so hard and everyone's having such a good time, you'd forgive them anything - even for what looks suspiciously like lap dancers housed in cages up in the sky.

 

And when things get a bit hectic in some of the faster songs, they sensibly all go and sit at the side while professional dancers work up a sweat.

 

The original boy band smashed countless records - first group since The Beatles to have four number ones in a row, first to have eight songs enter the singles chart at number one - and sold 20million albums and 10million singles while winning myriad awards.

 

The final song, Never Forget, is fitting. Everyone in the audience seems to know all the words to each of their songs. Never Forget? You must be joking.

 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/showbiz/showbiznews.html?in_article_id=383993&in_page_id=1773

:sick:

"Gary's just too fat and looks more like someone's drunken dad at a wedding disco than a pop star. "

 

ROTFLMAO