Bieber Peever in Barcelona

Believe Tour

Even The Bieb can´t belieb what bedlam it was.


Mo is peeved, but this time I´m not alone. There were thousands of us peeved parents still queuing outside the vast Palau Sant Jordi in Barcelona on Saturday night as the first of Justin Bieber´s two teloneros (support acts) was onstage entertaining what must have amounted to a couple of hundred spectators afflicted with Bieber Fever.

On our tickets for Bieber we were informed that the doors would open at 17.30.  At 19.00, having stood in one of two massive queues in the cold for over an hour and still 100 yards from the entrance, the second telonera, em, Barley Hay Stetson (?) of Call Me Maybe fame was already on the stage, playing to a half-full arena.

Carly Rae Jepsen

See me, maybe?


I was seriously beginning to worry we wouldn´t get inside by the time Justin Bieber, the absolute idol of my 13 year old Malassie and the reason for our trip to Barcelona to the tune of some €500, appeared on stage, even late, as he is often reputed to be.

Paradoxically, this seemed an even greater worry when the “organizers” decided to move things along. A policeman with a megaphone started ordering all those over 14 years of age just to “go in.”

The result was a stampede.  The lines broke form and thousands of people, most of them screaming fourteenies-and-over, ran for the entrances. The esplanade of tall columns of lights became a free for all and the recent tragedy, in which five girls were crushed to death at the Madrid Arena due to a lack of organization and security, came to mind.

The same policeman announced that parents of children under 14, the under-fourteenies, were to continue to wait in line to – and I´m not joking – sign an authorization!


We parents of the young Beliebers, only present because at the time of purchase it had been stipulated that under fourteens had to be accompanied by an adult, also with a purchased ticket, were now expected to wait in line while Harley Day Heston (?) went through her act.

But we did.  People complained, myself included, stung once again by how painfully, inefficiently bureacratic even the simplest of endeavours – taking your daughter to a concert – is in this country.

As for authorization, I was Malassie´s in-the-flesh authorization! Or did these Barcelona bureaucrats or promoters fondly Belieb that the likes of myself was attending this concert because I wanted to see and hear a 19 year-old Canadian heart throb use barely literate lyrics like, “Baby, baby, baby, oh, I´m like, baby, baby, baby, oh?

I´m a veteran of rock concerts and wouldn´t be seen dead at such a preppy, pretty, perfunctory, poppy affair by choice, but even us ageing rock chicks love our daughters and want to make their dreams come true.  So there I was – and well aware why my presence was required.

When I was younger, I sneaked into Celtic Park free to see The Who, paid the Glasgow Apollo security staff a quid to get into a Queen gig, had to give up front row seats for Kiss or be crushed by a pressing avalanche of Kiss Army adepts and feared the Apollo´s bouncing balcony would cede under the weight and headbanging of Status Quo fans. Blue Oyster Cult, Black Sabbath, Nazareth, Rainbow, Bowie, Bon Jovi, Motorhead, Rush, UFO, Boston –  in the seventies I went to what I could afford and it wasn´t half of what my guitarist brother went to.

I learned what claustrophobia meant at rock concerts.

I get security.

But this wasn´t it.

We continued to wait. Then the woman in front of me and her two daughters slipped through an askew barrier and made for the melée of fourteenies-and-over pushing to get in.  In one beat I grabbed my daughter´s hand and we did the same.

“If anybody asks you, say you´re fourteen, I told her,” as we jostled under the nose of the harrassed doorperson trying to check backpacks  [why would you need a backpack at a concert?] and bags and tickets and DNIs at the same time.  I waved the tickets under his nose and we ran through.

It was chaos inside the stadium, with girls running shrieking down huge flights of stairs, people queuing up for drinks and hot dogs [what is it with the Spaniards that they have to load up with food at a concert?] and the sound of Kaley Jay Crepton (?) deafening our attempts at hearing the directions of the steward to our seats.

By the time we finally sat down, Sally Née Getsome -  MUM!  HER FRICKIN´ NAME IS CARLY RAE JEPSEN! - was starting her biggest hit. We half-listened to it as we decoated and rewatered and she soon left the stage, probably as peeved as we were and wondering what the hell Freddie Mercury had seen in Barcelona.

The Palau, at half-past seven, when the main attraction was supposed to appear, was about half-full.


Fortunately Justin Bieber didn´t appear until everybody was finally inside. If you´re interested (and over 14) I´ll give you my concert review this week. Meanwhile, have a laugh at this parody of Call Me Maybe by, em, well, you know ….




  1. Hmmm… Karley Jay Snebson is actually closer in age to my good self than your daughter Mo. According to the stalker’s Bible (Wikipedia), she was born in 1985, making her 27 years old, and officially of age to know better than to role out bubble gum pop and expect to retain her credability.
    Then again, I suspect she will be lamenting her lack of said music credability as she drives to the Bank tomorrow morning in her convertable Aston Martin to cash her latest PRS cheque.

    • I can´t believe she´s that age! Of course I didn´t get a good look, worried as I was about my good pink coat getting stood on in the Palau San Jordi which has very little of the Palace about it. Maybe she should change her name to Parlay Ray Specson.

  2. What a talentless little nob, with zero respect for his fans.
    (God, I’m turning into my Dad…)

    • I keep saying I´m going to review the concert but I get such a ho-hum lethargy at the mere thought of it. see what I can dozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

    • I don´t think he´s talentless Mr. G. He´s no musical genius but he can sing and play a few instruments though I don´t think he´s much of a dancer.

  3. Horrible little creature, but you can’t fight hormones…

    • I thought the show was great, though very programmed and controlled, no spontaneity. I wonder how JB will do as an adult since he´s becoming one (I still had him down as about 14!). And the music is of course so banal …. but my girl loved it.

    • As a hero for little girls goes he´s not too bad – I´m glad my girl isn´t hung up on one of those horrid rappers like Pitbull!

  4. And his fans still love him, I saw them making excuses for him on the TV afterwards! They wouldn’t be so forgiving if you were late to take them to the concert in the first place. Great post Mo, Mums of teenage girls everywhere will empathise!

    • I know, Sara would never have forgiven me if I´d screwed up something! However, I had it planned like a military assault! I do wonder who was really at fault for the mess – the Bieb, the Palau or the promoters and security hired by both of the former.

  5. Peeved parents – and the few fans who were 18 or over – should file suit, perhaps through a consumers association, for breach of contract. If you can take the case to the point where they would be liable to pay compensation on the ticket price for failing to guarantee access to the venue on time to see the whole show, the promoters would be less likely to get away with disorganized crime the next time.
    It’s a minor issue though, and it is unlikely that anybody would take it up. For my part, I was just glad the throbbie showed up and did his gig. The 1,200 Km round trip was worth it – at least Malassie came out glowing with happiness!

    • Consumers association – you mean ham consumers association? If not, forget it. I don´t want to spend my life in litigation for the sake of missing Charlie Grey Klepton.

  6. Luckily I do not have teenagers .. yet! Why does this kid think he is so wonderful. WHo is he to behave the way he does? Does he have no respect? What is the thrill of leaving paying fans, especially young fans, waiting ???
    GRRRR .. rant over!

    • Hi Lisa, actually I feel it was the staff of the Palau San Jordi that couldn´t get their act together. What artist is going to come on stage when half the audience is still outside? Who was responsible for this? Who didn´t open the doors at 5.30?

    • Gosh you´re quick Matthew – still sorting out bugs!

    • Ha! This is so funny – how many changes of bikini? Anyway, on stage “she” (Snarly Pay Shrekson) had some sort of broom and was doing some sweeping. I didn´t get it but we were so glad not to have missed Mr. Tupé himself we didn´t care and I was busy checking the exits in case of a problem. I suppose I am just too old now!

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