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I WAS so sad to read about what hap­pened to Whit­ney Hous­ton, she was a leg­end.

I re­mem­ber be­ing a kid do­ing dance rou­tines to I Wanna Dance With Some­body.

And in my late teens and early 20s I’d go out to Em­po­rium in London with foot­ballers like Rio Fer­di­nand and bop to her RNB tunes like It’s Not Right.

What’s tragic is that such a huge tal­ent died slumped in a bath.

We know Whit­ney had her prob­lems – for 15 years she bat­tled co­caine and crack – but it looked like she’d beaten her demons.

Af­ter all she’d been through, her death didn’t come as that much of a shock, but it’s her daugh­ter Bobbi Kristina, only 18, who I feel sorry for.

The poor kid, she must have pleaded with her mum over and over to sort her­self out and to lose her at such a young age is heart­break­ing.

I said how much I’d miss Whit­ney on Twit­ter and got a right load of abuse with peo­ple ask­ing if I knew her. Ob­vi­ously I didn’t but why can’t I ex­press my sad­ness on there? Surely that’s what it’s all about!

Now, I’m not com­par­ing my­self to W h i t n e y, but over the years when I’ve gone through dark times, I’ve taken Prozac and sleep­ing pills.

Thank­fully, I’ve al­ways been strong enough to deal with what­ever life has thrown at me, but it’s not the case for ev­ery­one.

I just hope her death helps peo­ple learn that doc­tors and pills aren’t al­ways the best so­lu­tion and some­times we have to bat­tle our demons our­selves.

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