Even Wham! are rumoured to be lining up some Christmas shows. But The Police? This is unforgivable. The past 23 years, save the odd Sting indulgence, have been bliss.

Lest we forget, The Police were truly mighty. The best band of the decade (apart from UB40) and the most ginormous band on the planet in 1984, cramming 80,000 New Yorkers into Shea Stadium - like no other band save The Beatles - with their odious brand of cheesy reggae and ridiculously privileged lyrical claptrap.

At their finest, they condemned prostitutes to moral wrath ("Roxanne, you don't care if it's wrong or if it's right"), and urged us all to buy deodorant on the television ('Don't Stand So Close To Me').

Then they took the piss out their own recordbuying public with 'De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da', a song that perfectly pointed out the simplicity of the three-minute money-maker.

Gordon Sumner, or Sting, doesn't need the money from this reunion tour. He already has a personal fortune estimated at more than Euro300m. But another Euro100m, which he can expect to make, would do nicely. Neither, presumably, do guitarist Andy Summers or drummer Stuart Copeland, both of whom have had quiet success with movie soundtracks and solo careers since the The Police split acrimoniously after the Synchronicity tour.

Originally the brainchild of American drummer Stewart Copeland, whose father Miles was a CIA operative during much of the Cold War, The Police were managed by Copeland's brother, also named Miles, who founded IRS Records, the label which catapulted R.E.M. to fame.

Copeland was ambitious and The Police's debut album, Outlandos d'Amour ('outlaws of love') was released in 1978 to much acclaim among journalists trumpeting the New Wave movement, but it was in the US where they made the bigger splash, particularly with 'Roxanne'. Even so, the greatest performance of this was by Eddie Murphy in 48 Hours, when he was still funny - way back in 1982.

The follow-up, recorded quickly and released a year later, was the similarly ridiculously titled Reggatta de Blanc ('white man's reggae'), which contained the nonsensical 'Walking On The Moon'.

But giant steps had indeed been taken. Zenyatta Mondatta, which doesn't even deserve an attempt at translation, saw out the 1970s, and it wasn't until 'Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic' from 1981's Ghost In The Machine an0d the global No1 'Every Breath You Take' from their final album Synchronicity that true world domination was realised. And then they split up, Sting's ego needing even more lebensraum.

And it came through a solo career that has defied all logic and reason and made the Geordie native the world's first white tantric multisquillionaire.

But No1 after No1 could not quell the critical revulsion he faced at home, unusual for a culture that is not known for its begrudgery towards the top end of success. PR attempts followed and the Michael Parkinson interview a few years ago - when he talked about his strict upbringing and rigid need for control - earned him a lot of sympathy among the broader public. And now this, all the PR undone. A big jolly, sold-out celebration of The Police.

Time to make like a canary in a coalmine and send out an SOS.