It came late last week; the news every pop fan worth their salt had been waiting for. The news every pop fan who recognises that Biology is one of the greatest bangers of the 21st century, and whose keen standom extends to the knowledge that the now-mononymic Cheryl has an intense phobia of cotton wool, was dreaming of: Girls Aloud are reuniting, with tickets on sale today.
Along with the Shangri-Las and the Runaways, Girls Aloud are one of the greatest girl bands of all time. As someone born in 1989, it was probably the Spice Girls that I should have been obsessed with. Sure, I had the collectible photo album now doing a brisk trade on eBay. I could do the signature leg-kick of fellow scouser and ardent LFC supporter Mel C. But the Spice Girls never spoke to me.
