Bieber Screamers! Go to school? Not when you can stand in the rain chasing pint-sized teen pop star!

Every 20 minutes or so, 300 girls jump up and down, pull at their hair, sob and let out hysterical, traffic-stopping screams. ‘Is it him? Is it Justin? Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I love you so much!’
And then — yet another false alarm — they sit down again and get back to bickering about who loves Justin Bieber the most.
‘Oh my God, I adore him. I dream about him every night.’


        

‘No! I love him more. He’s my inspiration. He’s my idol. I love everything about him — apart from his girlfriend.’
Welcome to Day Four of the Justin Bieber vigil outside the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington, West London where — despite a week of torrential rain and buffeting winds — spirits are high.
‘I’ve seen him three times getting into the car and I even saw his bare chest,’ shrieks Carly, 14, from Walthamstow. ‘This is the best week of my life.’
Like Carly, hundreds of girls have been here since Monday, waiting and waiting and waiting to see the Canadian pop sensation and shrieking every 20 minutes or so, just in case.

                                                           

They have no shelter, no sleeping bags (‘We didn’t think to bring one’), no proper food (they’ve been living on Red Bull and Big Macs), but all sport bulging make-up bags.
Nearly all of these young girls should be at school. In fact, many are wearing their uniforms.
‘We haven’t been to college for four days,’ says Paige, 16. ‘But at the moment Justin Bieber’s more important than my GCSEs. My parents think I’m crazy but they don’t understand how much we love him.’
Emmen, 11, and Oceanne, 12, from Gatwick, have come in their school uniforms. ‘I don’t care if anyone says I’m too young,’ says Oceanne. ‘He’s hot and sexy and I love him.’
So she and Emmen bunked off school and walked an hour across London from Victoria station. ‘We didn’t have a map, so we asked every single person we saw if they knew the way to Justin Bieber.’

For anyone not up to speed on teen pop idols, Justin Bieber is a pop star from Stratford, Ontario.
He is 18 years old, a Christian, possibly a virgin (he swore an oath of chastity to his mother but doesn’t seem to wear his chastity ring any more), is worth £65 million and has sold eight million records.
The film of one of his concerts, Never Say Never, grossed over £62 million.
He has nearly 21 million Twitter followers (recent tweets include ‘who am i? the luckiest guy on the planet. im a fighter for what i believe in but i have millions next to me. Thankyou’) and gains a new follower every second.
Apparently, three per cent of all conversations on Twitter are about Justin. His fans are called ‘Beliebers’ and are extremely dedicated.

Alaa, 16, from Ruislip, got up at 4am this morning to plan her outfit and straighten her hair. ‘He means everything to me.
I’ve got 60 posters of him and I do all my school projects about him. My dad said I could come — but he only lets me bunk off school for Justin Bieber.’
After a week under siege by Beliebers, the forecourt of the Royal Garden Hotel is looking a bit tired. The flowerbeds are full of empty Red Bull cans and McDonald’s milkshake cups.
The ornamental bay trees have taken a battering. And the pavement’s daubed in Bieber graffiti — ‘I love JB’, ‘Justin Drew Bieber we love you’ and, tucked away at the back, ‘Justin 4 Derek’.

No one seems remotely discouraged by his religious principles or that (theoretical) virginity.
‘So what? Who cares? We’ll convert. We’ll go to church’.
They are, however, rather ageist. 
                                                 
‘There was someone here last night who was 23! That’s wrong. And there was a 25-year-old as well. That’s way too old — older than him even!
‘It’s inappropriate. They should find someone their own age. And, oh my God, look at that woman over there. She’s really old but she says she’s a really big fan.’
Bianca, 15, from London, has been here 12 hours a day all week. ‘I’ve seen him three times,’ she says proudly.
‘I haven’t actually touched him, but I saw when he lifted up his shirt — it was that window just up there. Oh my God, he is so hot.

‘We all went mad — we screamed so loud. And one night he was dancing for us in the window while we were all singing.
Apparently, he’s sworn to chastity by his mum, but that wouldn’t bother me. I wouldn’t want to be one of the girls who just date him. I would rather be his best friend.’
And with that, she unfurls and starts reading from a crumpled note she has written for Justin in purple and pink felt tip pen.
‘Justin, I hope you get this. Me and Amanda have missed college and school every day this week to see you. We love you more than you can imagine.
We hope we get tickets to your Believe concert. We love you. Please come back to London soon.’
And look, I’ve put our Twitter names on the bottom so he can start following us online.’
Wow. Does he follow his fans back?

‘Yes! He picks some to follow. He doesn’t follow us, but he follows her,’ she says, pointing in awe to a 16-year-old girl with long dark hair called Miriam Kouadri, who claims he started following her a couple of months ago, completely out of the blue.
After three hours of waiting and nothing to watch other than his security guards popping out for the occasional fag, I am beginning to flag. I clearly don’t have the stamina to be a Belieber.
So what if he did pop out and stand here, right in front of them, ready to answer anything they wanted to know — what would they say?
                                              
‘We wouldn’t be able to speak. We’d start screaming and crying. We’d die.’
Five minutes later, they get their chance. Suddenly — and this time it’s not a false alarm — Justin Bieber bursts out of the hotel wearing an enormous pair of red tracksuit trousers, black top and vast sunglasses.
He is tiny. Like a miniature person. He would fit in the glove box of the big black Mercedes waiting for him.
But first he does a quick walk along his wall of screaming fans, reaching out to touch a few desperate, grasping hands. It is carnage. The screams are now deafening. Everyone is crying.

Girls are clambering over the wall, trampling on the flowers, frantically trying to push past the security guards.
His security guards close in, post him like a parcel into the Mercedes and they pull away. But the Beliebers give chase. They swarm into the road, running in front of buses and taxis leaving a trail of shoes and schoolbags in their wake.
Bianca is standing in front of the Mercedes. Everyone else is bashing on the boot, licking the windows, banging on the doors. One girl is on the bonnet. A security guard has to get out and swear at her until she slides off and the car starts moving.
And then, he’s gone. Everyone is weeping and wailing. Dozens of girls are hyperventilating. A chosen few have touched him.
                                                    
Like Bianca. Who will never be the same again.
‘Oh my God. Oh my God! OH MY GOD!’ she sobs. ‘I stood right in front of the car and it was moving. I didn’t even care. I just wanted to touch him. His bodyguard got out of the car to push people back and I put my hand in and he slapped my hand. I touched him! I touched Justin Bieber. Oh my God.
‘I can’t believe it. I can’t even breathe. It’s the best day of my life. I’m so, so happy.’