Thriller Time on Jacko's Train
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I caught a glimpse of the rock star- but only, a glimpse. Even though 1 was in the front row the superstar was swaddled by so many bodyguards 1 could only see the top of his head. Mr Geller was more in evidence, if only because he was wearing his red and white Exeter City scarf. And suddenly I was alone. The big white stretched limo purred its way out of the station tunnel and the Jacksonites were hoofing it out to the road. I joined them and in the crush Katrina grabbed me and said: "See those two there? They're all the way from Israel:" The young couple seemed to be in a state of Gcller-like trance. "There arc people from all over the world here," one of them crooned. "He's right," Katrina piped in. "There's a hardcore who follow Michael everywhere, but he's worth it, he's really unique, isn't lie?" You can say that again. So unique that the frenzied fans stopped the first of the three stretched limousines by the sheer weight of their numbers-. Even the karate black-belts had trouble maintaining control. Then David Blaine-the magician - opened the window a crack and shoved out an England football flag. The cars slipped through and we were on our way to the stadium. Oh what a sight that was. Thousands filled the stands. Exeter was enjoying its second big festive occasion of the year and the hosts on stage kept referring to the Queen's visit a few months ago. But this was something very different indeed.
I was in the same row as the most enthusiastic Jackson fan this side
of Stockholm. He could have come straight from the script of a Father
Ted programme - as the Dancing Priest.
He cavorted like a Dervish and the collective TV cameras zoomed in to
give him his moment of fame. A loud band called Spoonbender struck up
on the big festival stage which had
been erected in one "Make some noise for the King of Pop," shouted Mr Whale - three times. And then, the oddest moment of them all. The superstar came into the ground sitting under an umbrella on the back shelf of a veteran open car. Jumped out, nearly fell over, and picked up the nearest kid. The crowd went mad. Exeter was on the map again as TV crews sent live outside broadcast signals around the world. Jackson cut an odd figure - as he darted about in a black cat suit adorned with a rather ornate pattern covering his shoulders. "Welcome to Exeter City Football Club," exclaimed Mr Whale as the pop star climbed the stage. Michael made a long, rather rambling speech- full of good stuff about kids with AIDS, racism, malaria and war. And then off he went in the evening sunlight - not that any of it was reaching him under his big umbrella. Exeter was amazed. The folk in the stands were even convinced that Mr Geller had fixed the weather- judging by the large black clouds that surrounded the stadium's sunlight. A bizarre occasion - but all in a good cause - and no one who was there will ever forget it. Specially not the Israeli Jackson fan who went away with tears of joy. "Unbelievable," he sighed. And we knew just what he meant. `At times the occasion was reminiscent of Louis Theroux's Weird Weekends' |
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| City stadium attracts a capacity crowd | |||
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"WE
love you Michael," exclaimed the banner in Exeter. For a while it didn't
seem that way. A single Michael Jackson fan shivered on the platform
at St David's Station and for an hour or two it looked like this might
be one of the biggest pop hoaxes ever. But in the end his limo was duly
mobbed by adoring fans and thousands filled the Grecians' stands to
enjoy the greatest and most bizarre party in the city's history. A
strange party to be sure. At times the great occasion was reminiscent
of Louis Theroux's Weird Weekends. No
one was quite sure just how big a coup Exeter City Football Club had
pulled off. Yesterday morning national radio was reporting on a surprise
concert to be held in St James's Park and tickets were rumoured to be
swapping hands for £700 on the Internet. The club's phone remained
firmly off the hook all morning and all we knew for sure was that the
Royal Train (the same one recently used by Her Majesty) would be arriving
it two in the afternoon. Like all trains,
it was late-pulling in at 3.30. A big moment for Janet Baxter, of Exeter,
and one that couldn't come soon enough. "I've been here since nine this
morning and I'm freezing;" she shivered. "But it will be worth it -
I love Michael - I've got thousands of books, posters and dolls. This
is a one-off, isn't it? I couldn't miss a chance like this. "I've
been really stressed out about this," she added. "But Uri has sent me
lots of positive energy by e-mail" Uri
Geller is, of course, joint director of Exeter FC and a personal friend
of Mr Jackson's. After a while, Janet
the fan had company. A posse of black-clad
security guards - all bearing the logo of a karate club - arrived on
the platform. It seemed overkill to say the least - even when Janet
was joined by Therese Swebilious who'd come all the way from Sweden
for the event. Katrina Pallant of Truro arrived bearing news that the
train was on its way: "Uri's been up and down it talking to people,"
she told us. "I've just phoned my friend on the train." Even
when the great moment came there were only 30 or so assembled fans -
outnumbered by the karate-kids. But organisers knew what they were doing
- a mob had already lynched the Jackson-GcIIer
party at Paddington and 100 or more fans had barged their way onto the
train to join the 100 people who'd paid for the privilege. The
second the locomotive came to a halt, the doors flew open and we - the
Exeter diehards - were almost bowled over by a crazed throng. "Did you
pay or were you one of the people who got on free?" I asked one drooling
girl. "Don't talk to me now - I want
to see him!" she shrieked Her friend said: "I paid £
100 and it was worth every penny. No,
he didn't come through to see
us, but just being on the same train was enough."