The king of entertainment - or Just kidding himself?

On the opening night of his Britpop tour, Robbie Williams delivers fireworks, gospel choirs and digital doppelgangers but for all the pomp and patter, only some of it entertains

- MARK BEAUMONT

Thirty years and, by his own count, three rehabs after his laddefining exit from Take That, the question remains: who on earth does Robbie Williams think he is?

The award-winning (if not box office-bothering) visionary of simian cinema behind his Better Man biopic? The Hallmark Warhol of his recent, pilloried Radical Honesty art show? An onthe-skids superstar reduced to swing and Christmas covers albums, or a resurgent national treasure returning after six years to claim some of the respect finally being dished out across the upper pop echelons?

On the opening night of the Britpop tour – his first mainlystadium outing since 2018, teeing up a new album he’s claimed is the true-to-himself record he wanted to make after leaving Take That in 1995 – he’s none of these things and more. In white sci-fi bondage overalls and wraparound mirror shades, Williams skydives from atop a firework-spewing rocket, mid-liftoff, to declare himself “the King of Entertainment”.

“My dream is to be the best entertainer on the fucking planet,” he tells a suitably wowed Edinburgh, and he certainly seems to mean it. Flanked by banner-waving gospel singers (but sadly no Tommy Iommi) for