Dua Lipa has announced that she’s playing Anfield next Summer. I’m tempted. But then, apparently so are all 40-something-year-old fathers.

She’s become a focal point for pervy dads everywhere and, unfortunately, I don’t have the excuse of a pop-loving teenage daughter to justify my attendance. Likewise, unless Dua plans to perform The Wheels on the Bus, my toddler is unlikely to be bothered about going.

I’ve also drawn some criticism recently for my decision to go and see Taylor Swift. It was, to quote an outraged friend, ‘Embarrassing’ that by purchasing a ticket, I’d effectively deprived a teenage girl of the chance to see their idol in the prime of her career. Now, admittedly, the friend in question lives in a state of permanent outrage, so his comments should always be taken with a pinch of salt, but I’m starting to feel as though the criticism is justified.

While the debate about ticket costs, rip-off secondary markets, dynamic pricing and the like continues to rage, what’s undeniable is that demand for A-list artists greatly exceeds not just actual supply, but all feasible hypothetical supply too.

My guess is that Taylor Swift could probably sell out Wembley Stadium five nights a week for the next year – potentially forever. And because she’s not going to do this, there’s always going to be a cap on the number of people who get to enjoy her in concert. Can I really claim to be as deserving of a ticket as someone for whom being a Taylor Swift fan is a core statement of identity? I think not. While I love her music, I’m faintly embarrassed by the suggestion that anyone might consider me a Swiftie.

Ironically, I’m currently without an Oasis ticket for next summer, having been identified by Ticketmaster as a bot following a five-hour wait in the ticketing queue. My case for deserving an Oasis ticket is far stronger – they were the first band I ever saw (in 1995, no less), I was at Knebworth, they dominated my teenage years, and I stuck with them through thick and thin, even going to see Beady Eye twice, post the Gallagher brothers’ fallout.

And yet, I’m not wholly convinced by my argument. If there was only one remaining Oasis ticket left on sale, and it could either go to me or someone who had never seen Oasis and wasn’t alive during the Britpop heyday, surely the right thing to do would be to stand aside. I’ve seen Oasis ten times, I was there for the defining cultural event of our generation, and I have far less to gain by catching them one more time.

Besides, who would you rather see turn up at the show – the teenager or the pervy dad?

Photo by Viraj Bhalani on Unsplash