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416 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
Geri's car was our think tank and her Filofax our computer. We bombed our way around London, exploding into the offices of agents, managers and record companies - well, the ones that let us in, anyway. A tape of Wannabe would be shoved hurriedly into the music system, then I'd shout 'C'mon!' and jump up on the table while Mel did a back flip, Victoria flashed her legs and Emma jumped up and down. We all bounced around like maniacs for a couple of minutes, singing and dancing, then Geri would introduce us and explain why we were there. It was great. They didn't know what had hit them. I think it's safe to say that no one we have everSpiced has forgotten the experience.
I was called Scary because I was loud and forthright and brash. I spoke my mind and stuck my tongue out to the cameras. But in my mind I had balls because I was a mixed race person who in the past had gone for job interviews where they'd taken one look at the colour of me and not given me the job. I'd had teachers who'd told me I would never amount to anything, domineering employers who'd picked on me unnecessarily and I'd also been brought up by an overly strict father. As a result of all this I'd developed a real dislike of authority figures. So I had lots of issues that I wanted to express to people in power - including journalists - and my way of doing that was to take the piss out of them. Loudly.