ultrviolncs
Delilah Bright swore she'd never end up in London.
Then she started a band, dyed her hair darker, and accidentally became the one of the faces of whatever the hell Britpop is.
Now it's 1992 and Wander is suddenly everywhere - Top of the Pops, Radio 1, NME covers, the arse-end of tabloid gossip columns. Everyone's calling them the next big thing. Delilah's still trying to remember how to tune her mic.
The boys in the band are falling apart in slow motion. The label wants more singles, less opinions. Alice is shagging Alex James (again). And Delilah? She's half-dating Jason Orange, fully bored out of her skull, and writing songs about it instead of going to therapy - because this is England, and talking about your feelings is worse than death.
She's got the voice, the cheekbones, and the kind of attitude that makes PR teams sweat. She didn't ask to be famous. She just wanted to make music, get drunk, and maybe kiss someone interesting.
But now she's neck-deep in the scene, and all she's really learned is:
"Never trust a journalist, never date a front man, and never believe your own hype."