Lunchtime at the 02 arena, and one of Earth’s most life-affirming sights: an international media scrum. International media scrums are a disparate bunch – a bit like the bar scene in Star Wars, but with press passes. Tetchy Cockney photographers. Canadian TV news stringers with rigid hair. Lissom children’s TV presenters with artfully tangled fringes. Journalists who look like trolls.

The international press scrum is, by and large, not bothered about the cash-cow reformation of the Spice Girls. Indeed, at 12.20pm, just before the press conference starts, a person from 19 Management stands worriedly by the side of stage and says, sotto voce, “There’s not many people here, are there?”

It is true. The serried ranks of international media do look a little thin on the ground. This is because, I tell the man from 19, rumour had it that the press conference would not start until 1pm – at which point 40 of the most cynical journalists disappeared to the nearby Slug & Lettuce, “for a pint”.

The international return of the Spice Girls is then postponed for fully half an hour, as 19 wait for the rogue journalists to return, and “fill the room out a bit”.

But, at 1.17pm, here come the Spice Girls to the stage. Emma Bunton is heavily pregnant, and holds hands with Geri Halliwell and Mel B, lest her belly topples her over. Victoria Beckham’s extreme tan and notable breasts make her torso resemble a chihuahua gravid with twins. Geri looks serene and floaty, like a girl from a 1970s Flake ad. Mel C looks like a hot Joan Jett, while Mel B still embodies the air of a pirate queen.

The press corps eyes them with suspicion. They have been kept waiting for over an hour for this – what looks like a cast of Loose Women, dressed up for a birthday?

The Spice Girls, however, are used to a cynical audience. In their early days, they would gatecrash record industry parties and sing on tabletops. Within minutes, it’s clear that old can-do spirit is still their default mode, when they are united. Mel B totters from the podium, offering to give “mouth to mouth” to a photographer injured in the scrum. “Watch out!” Geri cautions. “She’s very fertile at the moment!”

The reporter from Heat magazine asks if, “as the girls are now mothers”, they’re “fit enough” to dance. Again, Mel B wades into the audience, trying to pull his shirt off, and accusing him of having a “fat back”.

At the end of a frankly amusing half-hour – during which Victoria Beckham jovially accused Halliwell of “disappearing up her own arse” – Halliwell proposes the press corps does a Mexican Wave, “just for us”. A previously cynical audience executes a perfect Mexican Wave and then, unusually, applauds the girls as they leave the stage.

“You’ve been Spiced,” Mel B says, with satisfaction. And, indeed, they have.

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