Thirty years and, by his own count, three rehabs after his lad-defining exit from Take That, the question remains: who on earth does Robbie Williams think he is? The award-winning (if not box office-bothering) visionary of simian cinema behind his Better Man biopic? The Hallmark Warhol of his recent, pilloried Radical Honesty art show? An on-the-skids superstar reduced to swing and Christmas covers albums, or a resurgent national treasure returning after six years to claim some of the respect finally being dished out across the upper pop echelons?
On the opening night of the Britpop tour – his first mainly-stadium outing since 2018, teeing up a new album he’s claimed is the true-to-himself record he wanted to make after leaving Take That in 1995 – he’s none of these things and more. In white sci-fi bondage overalls and wraparound mirror shades, Williams skydives from atop a firework-spewing rocket, mid-liftoff, to declare himself “the King of Entertainment”.
