Born in Kent in 1967, Nicki Chapman is a broadcaster and 90s pop industry stalwart. She joined MCA Records as a promotions assistant at the age of 20, before moving to RCA Records and establishing herself as one of the most successful publicists of the decade. As a promoter and manager she has worked with artists such as David Bowie, Take That, the Spice Girls and S Club 7. In the early 00s, Chapman turned to TV; first as a judge on Popstars, and later as a host of Escape to the Country and a BBC Radio 2 DJ. Her memoir, So Tell Me What You Want: My Story of Making It in the Mad, Bad and Fab Pop Music Industry, is out now.

My blue velvet Laura Ashley dress. It was £70, expensive, and I bought it to go to a ball a few years before. I was rocking a slight Kevin Keegan perm at the time. Don’t get me wrong – it looked great on Kevin, but not on me. Nevertheless, I kept that hairstyle for more than a decade.

These photos were taken by a photographer who had suggested I do some modelling headshots. I posed for a few and then he said: “Should we try it without the bra?” I said no. Perhaps that’s why I’m looking so coy because normally I am a really smiley person. The truth was I wasn’t super-confident in front of the camera – I’m much better behind it.

When I was 20 I had a boyfriend called James Bond, who happened to have a music contact, Linda, in his Filofax. I really wanted to work in the industry, so he called her to see if there were any opportunities, and she said yes. I did an interview for MCA Records, and that’s where it all began.

Working in music in the 90s was glorious. I am, and always have been, a very proud pop tart. I was never the coolest cat. I always had my head down. Everyone working at the label was so sassy and sorted, and for a while I felt like a duck dipping my head underneath. There were a lot of bizarre moments – like when I opened an envelope and found a collection of cold semen addressed to Kim Wilde.

I was never the best plugger, but I was always committed, passionate and transparent. What you see with me is what you get. I quickly learned that when looking after talent, they are the stars. I just facilitate them. I was a small cog in a big, big wheel and I always wanted whoever I was working with to feel like I was doing the best possible job for them. When I met David Bowie, he was everything I wanted him to be. He didn’t even mind that I couldn’t get him the Lavazza coffee he’d requested. I was so apologetic. He handed me his cigarette when he came off stage. I can’t believe I didn’t keep it.

Although it was often sex, drugs and rock’n’roll in those days, I didn’t like to dip my toe in too much. I had responsibilities, and I’d always leave the party early.

The night before the MTV Europe awards in Berlin, Take That were performing – it was an important show, so I tried to get Robbie [Williams] to come back to the hotel so he could sleep, but he wouldn’t listen and kept partying. In the end, I left him to it and went home at 4am.

The next day, I went to wake him up, and found him fully dressed on the bed. He was out like a light. By some stroke of luck, Prince’s personal physician happened to be in the hotel lobby, dressed in hospital whites. He even had white wellies, as if he was going into theatre. He came upstairs and gave Robbie a vitamin injection, which woke him up. Robbie went on to perform brilliantly later that night. Everyone was saying: “Oh my God. Wasn’t that hilarious?” I thought: “No, actually. I was really scared.” But, essentially, I couldn’t tell him what to do. It was my job to try to keep the talent in a healthy environment, but if someone wants to do something, they’ll do it.

I was sitting down with [manager and producer] Simon Fuller, having dinner in a Japanese restaurant when he asked me what the industry was missing. I replied: “What you need is a really good girl group.” We talked it through, ate our food, and then I forgot. I went back to my job. Six weeks later I got a call saying: “I found them.” I said: “Who?” He replied: “I found the girls.”

When Simon first brought the Spice Girls into RCA, it was like a hurricane. I hadn’t met anyone like them before. Geri [Halliwell] started firing off questions: “We’ve heard about you. What do you think we should be doing?” I went through a rough plan, off the top of my head, and she came back with: “We don’t want to do that.” I replied: “You do what you’re good at, and I’ll do what I’m good at, and we’re going to really get on.” Once I’d left, Simon called and said: “Nicki, they absolutely loved you.”

Some years later, the girls made the decision to manage themselves – the whole Spice Girls machine was in their hands. I’ll never forget walking into a dressing room, finding Emma [Bunton] on the phone, talking to a taxi company about setting up an account to organise cars so they could get home later. I think they borrowed someone’s Filofax so they could nick all the important numbers to manage things. I was like: “You have no idea what you’ve taken on.” But I had to admire them for it.

Popstars was the first time I’d been on TV, and after that I was asked to be a judge on Pop Idol. When it was proposed to me I said: “Oh, no. I love my job – why would I want to be in front of the camera?” But I gave it a go, and the show took off. I can remember when I first got asked for my autograph. I laughed, and then said: “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, but no one’s ever asked me that before!” To have the tables turned was strange but it was a wonderful opportunity.

In 2019, I was diagnosed with a brain tumour. At first I thought it was menopause. I was tired. I was forgetful. I got lost walking down Regent Street. You make allowances for your behaviour. Then I had a couple of moments where I couldn’t type, I couldn’t read a book, and I couldn’t speak. I was voicing Escape to the Country at the time, and I thought I’d had a migraine. It turns out I’d had a stroke. I went to A&E and they found the tumour.

For a while, I did make peace. If my time was up, I knew I’d had a great life. I also knew if my time wasn’t up, I was going to have an even better one. When I wasn’t very well, somebody super-famous, who also wasn’t well, called me and said: “I’ve heard the news. It’s a dark gift.” I was confused at first, but I’ve realised that when you’ve been through tough times, you gain a greater understanding, tolerance and acceptance of others. You come out of it so much stronger.

If I met the 21-year-old Nicki now, I’d say: “Give it your best and don’t beat yourself up – as long as you are trying.” I always joke about how my life is: “A for effort, C for achievement.” I don’t see that as a bad thing. Average sometimes wins the day.