23,000 fans registered interest in the Wiggles’ 25th anniversary gig – but from the first song it was clear even a power failure wouldn’t see them go off script

Jeff wakes up to a surprising lack of irony at the Wiggles' adults-only reunion show

By 6.30pm there was already a line outside the concert hall at the Dee Why RSL: platinum blondes, muscular men with sleeve tattoos, a smattering of goths, two young women wearing very revealing pirate costumes, and a group of greasy metalheads in matching Mastodon T-shirts.

The disparate crowd was united by two things: they were over 18, and they were there to see the Wiggles.

In total, 700 grownups turned out to see Greg (yellow), Anthony (blue), Jeff (purple; sleepy) and Murray (red) sing about fruit salad, hot potatoes and cold spaghetti on Friday. They were the chosen few: on Facebook more than 23,000 people registered their interest in the band’s no-kids-allowed 25th anniversary celebration, and in the days leading up to the show tickets were selling for five times their set price.

Most of the audience were under 25 and, when asked about why they were there, replied along the lines of, “The Wiggles were, like, my childhood.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Beryl King, 75, travelled from the Gold Coast with her grandson for the show. Photograph: Alex McClintock/The Guardian

For these fans, the gig’s big drawcard was the original Wiggles lineup was back together for the first time since 2012, when Greg, Jeff and Murray retired from performing and were replaced by a new generation: Emma, Lachlan and Simon. (Jeff and Murray are still involved on the business side of the operation, while Anthony remains a member of the reconstituted group.)

Some had been introduced to the band by their children. Fleur and Pete Williams, 33 and 34, had left their three-year-old son in the care of Fleur’s mother so they could fly up from Melbourne.

We’ve told some friends we’re here for the Australian Open of Surfing; others we’ve told we’re here for the Wiggles.

“We’ve told some of our friends we’re here for the Australian Open of Surfing; other people we’ve told we’re here for the Wiggles,” said Pete. “Different friends, different stories.”

“It’s good clean fun, it’s not violent or anything – it’s great,” added Fleur.

This was a popular sentiment. “They’re all good clean-cut fellas,” said Beryl King, 75, who had travelled from the Gold Coast with her 20-year-old grandson, Michael. When the doors opened, she found a seat and Michael rushed to the foot of the stage. Beryl watched as a moshpit formed around him.

One young woman wearing a Dorothy the Dinosaur tail said she hoped the show wouldn’t be too adult, because she didn’t want it to “ruin her childhood”.

She needn’t have feared. From the intro to Fruit Salad, Yummy Yummy – “Has everyone had something to eat?” – it was clear the Wiggles were never going to risk their multimillion dollar reputation by going off script. The closest the show got to risque was after someone in the crowd suggested perhaps VB could be used to wake Jeff up.

Everyone laughed, but Anthony locked eyes with the other band members and pointed to the Wiggles logo on his skivvy.

“I don’t know what VB is,” said Murray. “Very Bad,” said Greg. “We want something to wake him up, not make him even sleepier.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest After mounting anticipation, Jeff finally gets woken up. Photograph: Alex McClintock/The Guardian

The lack of variation in the music didn’t bother the audience, who shook their sillies out, rock-a-byed their bears and did the monkey with abandon.

Everyone smiled, everyone clapped. No one, it seemed, was there ironically.

The crowd exploded when Greg announced “this is a counting song!”, before sliding into a very special version of Numbers Rumba that went all the way up to five (“many people here who are alive”). During Wags the Dog, an audience member started gently waving a cigarette lighter. “That’s the first time I’ve seen one of those at a Wiggles show,” said Anthony.

Wags wasn’t the only special guest, of course. It wouldn’t have been a reunion without Henry the Octopus, Captain Feathersword and Dorothy.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Henry lifts two of his many arms as Murray rocks out. Photograph: Alex McClintock/The Guardian

For all their jokes about needing glasses, being out of practice and being out past their bed-time, the Wiggles were incredibly tight for a band that hadn’t performed together in four years. Probably something to do with playing hundreds of shows a year for decades.

They’d been on stage for an hour and a half, and Murray was getting ready to shred his solo in Let’s Play Guitar With Murray, when the power cut out. Panicked roadies in tight Ramones-style Wiggles T-shirts grabbed torches and sprinted backstage.

It wasn’t a loose cable, though: it was a blackout. People screamed. Greg appealed for calm. Jeff returned to the stage in a cow suit for an impromptu acoustic version of I’m A Cow.

Then, as RSL staff began evacuation procedures, Greg, Anthony, Jeff and Murray led 700 people in a raucous singalong of Hot Potato in the dark.

As the crowd filed out into the warm February night, one young woman turned to her companion: “Do you think that happens every time?”