Bedroom World Tour ’02: Choreography, Chaos, and Glitter

We were basically S Club Juniors—only our arena was a carpeted bedroom and our fog machine was Impulse body spray.

Do you remember the seriousness of it all? Socks on for extra slidey grip, bedroom door shut, Hi-Fi turned up to “Mum says turn it down,” and a sacred meeting of the council (aka three girls in butterfly clips) to invent choreography that would definitely take us to Top of the Pops. 🪩

“No laughing, this is SERIOUS.” — us, before premiering to the living room

The Official Routine Formula™

1. Song selection wars
   Someone wants Steps, someone else insists on Britney, and there’s always one rogue lobbying for J-Lo. We test 12 intros; the winner is whichever has the most dramatic “5-6-7-8” opportunity.
2. Casting the lead (democracy in crisis)
   “I’ll be the lead on the first chorus, you can do the middle eight solo, and you—” “—can do harmonies.” (There are no harmonies. It’s a dance routine.)
3. Signature moves we 100% invented
   The Grapevine of Glory. The Point-And-Snap. The Hair-Whip (health hazard). The Floor Drop (immediate carpet-burn regret).
4. Formation maths
   Lines → V-shape → circle → dramatic walk-forward for the key change. Bonus points for a perfectly timed jump on “BABY!”
5. Costume department
   Semi-matching tops, maximum lip gloss, suspicious amounts of body glitter. Optional: fingerless gloves for “attitude.”
6. The rehearsal spiral
   “Again from the middle eight.” “No, from the bridge!” “Wait… what’s the bridge?” (We do it six more times and still forget the last eight counts.)
7. The premiere (living room world tour)
   Parents on the sofa = our entire stadium audience. We end in a pose no one agreed on, then gasp for air like marathoners.
8. Archival evidence
   Recorded on someone’s Nokia / mini DV camcorder at a perilous angle. Grainy, chaotic, and somehow… perfect.

Advanced Choreography Politics

• Storm-out clause: If no one gets to own the middle eight, someone will absolutely “quit the band” for 11 minutes.
• Rule of three: Two people nail the chorus; the third is 0.7 seconds behind but selling it with FACE.
• Secret rehearsal: You definitely practiced without telling the others (just to learn the hard bits). It’s fine. It’s strategy.

Why It Mattered

It wasn’t just about moves. It was confidence practice. Friendship glue. Tiny project management for our future CEO selves. And the purest kind of performance joy—creating something ridiculous and sparkly out of thin air.

Daisy’s Closing Statement

If your mate didn’t claim “creative differences” and refuse to do the lift in the key change, did you even live through the early 00s?

Tell Me Yours

Comment prompt: What was your routine song and which role did you play—front-person, formation captain, or facial-expressions icon? Bonus points if you remember a specific move (e.g., “triple point-and-snap into hair-whip pivot”).