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The Review - MUSIC - grooves with RóISíN GADELRAB
Published: 19 March 2009
Michael Jackson – and my other hero

FOR many, he’s a washed-up superstar with a tainted past, who’s doing his unprecedented 500 squillion gigs at the O2 this summer because he’s broke.
But for me, the magic of Michael Jackson will never die. Even if I’m tired of the man himself – his insufferable self-pity turns the stomach – his songs, artistry, the very MJ of him, will long outlive any of us.
I was one of the smug chumps who got a pre-sale code – one of two million – but it didn't bloody work and I was left hammering the website from 6.50am onwards on Friday morning.
Three hours and many desperate Facebook updates later – there was an army of lost souls out there – I was no closer and gave up, encouraging the devil to corral the soul of Ticketmaster and do terrible things to it.
It was a nightmare of getting booted out of the queue when you were minutes away from success, or just not logging onto the website at all.
But my email-queue hell was not entirely in vain. The man who shall forever more be known as My Hero rescued me. Yes, he sold me a ticket.
A million tickets were sold in those sweaty five hours: say half are sold at £50 and half at £75, that equals £62,500,000. That’s sixty-two-and-a-half-million quid. That’s not including hospitality tickets (a grand) or TV deals, sponsorship money or anybody else who will cash in on the MJ gravytrain.
But Neverland – Peter’s coming back for you.

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