In my day, the Wiggles were a tame bunch. Four blokes in loose skivvies whose concerts more closely resembled a school nativity play than a sold-out Eras show.
When I saw them in Toowoomba in 1997, was I thrust into an early puberty by their moves? Hardly. In fact, when all four signed my Dorothy the Dinosaur T-shirt, even at the age of four I thought, clingy much?
