💔 The Day S Club Split: A National Tragedy (Okay, a Personal One)

I remember it vividly. The day the news broke: S Club were splitting up.

No more Reach. No more Don’t Stop Movin’. No more neon flares and matching outfits. Just… heartbreak. For a kid whose entire personality revolved around 00s pop, this was the apocalypse.

It didn’t matter that I had never met them. It didn’t matter that I knew, deep down, they were getting older and probably tired of the matching white trousers. It felt personal. Like someone had come into my house, turned off the glittery lights, and said, “Fun’s over.”

I cried in my bedroom. Loudly. Dramatically. Snottily.
So loudly, in fact, that my dad knocked on the door and shouted:
“SHUT UP, IT’S JUST AN EFFING BAND!”

…And honestly? I’ve never recovered from the personal attack. “Just a band”? Just a band??? These people taught me to reach for the stars and never had a dream come true ‘til the day that I found them. Respectfully, Dad — read the room.

Even now, I can’t hear the words “S Club 7 have announced their split” without feeling that familiar pang. It was a moment. A turning point. One of the first times I realised that even perfect, smiley, poppy things… end.

But hey — at least we had the dance routines, the TV shows, the CDs, the posters… and the memories. And at least we didn’t have to see them try and rebrand as “S Club 3” yet. (That came later. I’m still recovering.)

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🎤 Daisy’s Corner: “I was inconsolable. Like full-on soap opera sobbing.”

When S Club split, I wore black for three days. I told everyone I was in mourning. I was seven. I did not care.

Also, I genuinely thought if I emailed them to say how sad I was, they’d change their minds. Power of the people, babes. Democracy in action. Never underestimate a child with dial-up internet and a Hotmail account.

P.S. I made my teddy bear perform Bring It All Back just to feel something.