Episode 3 - Penthouse and Payment

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Episode 3 - Penthouse and Payment

Opening Scene - Waiting room in a down at heel letting agency. A number of waifs and strays sit on the plastic seats awaiting their turn. One by one, they are called to the desk where they count out their money before getting a set of keys.




Narrator - If an Englishman's home is his castle, what kind of an abode can a Scotsman purchase for the princely sum of £17.50 per week? A bunker? A tent? An adobe hacienda? Or 'a splendid penthouse flat in the heart of the City Centre'?

(George looks at newspaper ad)

I would say that this is the minimum requirement for the newly crowned King of Glasgow. And given, my recent upswing in fortunes, both on and off stage...




Cut to George's Mum's house and George helping a young lady in through the bedroom window at night, quick cut to different young lady leaving the same way in the morning.





...my need for living space has increased incrementally.




Cut to George entering the office.




Lady behind desk - Can I help you?

George - I've come about the penthouse flat advertised...(shows newspaper)... here.

A couple of sniggers from the rest of the potential tenants.

Lady - Take a seat, Mr Turpin will see you shortly.







Cut to loud man in garish shirt, braces and colourful, thick spectacles walking out of main office.




Man - Penthouse in City Centre?

George - Here!

Narrator - I suppose a letting agency called Dick Turpin Estates should have set off a few alarms. But I was young, dumb and full of...

Man - Come into my office, young lady.

George - Huh?




Narrator - OK, my hair was long and there may have been an eye liner issue....but this wasn't the first time there I was subject to gender confusion..




Cut to Tax office, George walking with files, close to the workspace of the religious fundamentalist, Brody and her long suffering desk mate, Karen.




Brody (noticing George) - What is the world coming to?

Karen - (not paying attention) - Sorry Brody, what did you say?

Brody - (getting louder) - I said...what is the world coming to? Everywhere you turn these days, you've got these disease ridden queerhawks...and I will not buy anything from the trolley until that horrible wee man is fired and that trolley is fully sanitised and sterilised. This is a government building, for goodness sakes. How would Her Majesty feel about the fact that there are homosexual fornicators effectively working for her government? The Bible says, man shall not lay with man. It's in the Bible, the law of God. And now look at this one (pointing to George)

Karen (quietly) - I think he's quite nice actually.

Brody (outraged) - He's a disgrace! I really can't tell if it's a boy or a girl.

George stops and approaches her work space

George (gently) - Well Brody, why don't you suck my cock and you'll find out?

Brody (begins to hyperventilate before screaming...) - Kathy!!!!!!!!!!!!




Cut back to Turpin's office -




Turpin - What I'll need is references from your employer...

Narrator - Hmmm...

Cut to George's boss

Kathy (exasperated) - Look, don't mention your cock again. Or anyone's for that matter. Not around Boaby... I mean Brody. Jesus....get out of my office.

Cut back to George nodding in Turpin's office
Narrator - That's doable.

Turpin - and from a professional person, not related mind.

Cut to Donny writing on stolen Church of Scotland paper.

Narrator - OK? And ...

Turpin - One month in advance, one month deposit.

Narrator - Shit. £17.50 x 4, twice.

George - How soon do you need it?

Turpin - As soon as I get the money, the flat's gone.




Narrator - Son of a bitch. Small print, eh? I've got about £40, £100 short of what I need. Time to make a few calls.




Cut to various friends and family members turning down George.




Narrator - But surely my buddies in the band will help?

Cut to Donny laughing, Jamesey turning out his empty pockets, Brian shaking is head.

Narrator - They're clearly not thinking about the opportunity I'm presenting them with. A city centre bedroom, free of charge, when I'm not there of course. The pulling power of that cannot be underestimated, surely?

Cut to Donny forking out, Jamesey raiding his piggy bank and Brian nodding his head.

Narrator - Just £20 to get and this is going to be the hardest part.




Cut to Mum's house.




George - I wouldn't ask if I didn't need it, Mum.

Mum - Are you sure about this son?

George - Absolutely. It means the boys can get their own room and you're not worried about me coming in every night, making a racket with my guitar and keeping the family up.

Mum - I'll still worry about you.

George - I know.

Mum - If you're sure...it will be helluva quiet around here without you bringing girls in and out the windows every night.

George (embarrassed) - Ach, sorry Mum. When I'm famous, I'm going to buy you a big house. In Ralston.

Mum (giving George the final £20) - Don't forget to call me and you can come home for your dinner if your hungry. I don't want you sitting in some wee hovel, freezing and starving.

George (embracing his Mum) - Don't worry Mum!  It's not a hovel, it's a penthouse!




Cut to Turpin's office, George puts the references and £140 down, Turpin gives George the keys.




Narrator - Freeeddddooommm!!




Cut to outside of ramshackle tenement block.




Narrator - Not bad, not bad at all.

George walks up the stairs, into the main door and sees his room. Number 2. Opens the door to find a single room, with a bed under a blocked up fireplace. Aside from the bed, the room is completely bare and not in great condition.




Narrator - Number 2 right enough. But to me, and to my friends, it was the fucking Playboy mansions. And I was just round the corner from ...




Cut to Nico's




Gordon - Another pint of Stella, young man? I'm buying.

George - Whey the hell not big fella! I'm celebrating.

Gordon - I'm going to Billy's later if you want to come. We're putting down a few ideas I'd like you to hear.

George - Great! Count me in.




Narrator - Clearly not yet versed in the way of the serious afternoon drinker, the strong Belgian beer takes it's toll...




Cut to Gordon and an inebriated George on the top deck of a bus. George is throwing one chip for every one he eats, much to the annoyance of the passengers. Gordon looks on, apologetic.







Cut to Billy's bedroom and George is lying on the bed, grunting, half asleep. Gordon and Billy are playing their instruments.

Billy - Hoi you, get off my bed.

George - Fuck you Billy. Fuck you...

Billy and Gordon laugh at the state of George

Gordon - So what do you think?

Billy - If he pishes my bed, I'll kill him...

Gordon - No, what do you think about him?

Billy - Truth? I can't stop singing his songs. Needs a bit of work but he's young, got a good voice and when he's he's upright, he's semi presentable. But the songs...they're good songs.

Gordon - I know. If we can get him to join...

Billy - It frees us up to concentrate on what we do.

George (unaware) - Fuck the two of yous.

Gordon - We've just got to keep him away from the booze.

Narrator - Never a truer word was spoken...

Gordon - C'mon lightweight, time to get you home.

Billy - I'll get Devon to speak to him.




Gordon brings George back to the flat where Brian is waiting with a young lady. They put George on the bed and take off his Cowboy boots.




Cut to morning and George wakes to find a note left by Gordon to call Devon when he gets up.




Narrator - Strange. Maybe he wants to manage The Molotov Cocktails...? Don't laugh, stranger things have happened.




Cut to quiet pub/restaurant, Devon is waiting for George with a stack of papers. George arrives.

Devon - Drink?

George - Tea, if they have it.

Devon - Fragile?

George - Not so loud, please...




Devon returns with the refreshments.




George - So, what's this about?

Devon - I've got a proposal for you.

George - Look, just because I wear eyeliner...

Devon - Behave, you clown. The boys would like to hire you. As lead singer of MOT. You'll be paid the same as them and in the fullness of time, you'll get the chance to record some of your songs.

George - Wow.

Devon - Not bad eh?

George (the realisation kicking in) - Wow.

Pause.

Narrator - I knew that this was an opportunity of a lifetime. But...

Devon - Well?

Narrator - Oh God!

George - Eh...no.

Devon - What?

George - The answer is no.

Devon - Are you off your fucking head?

Narrator - I wasn't off my head. I'd gone over this in my head a thousand times. A couple of months ago, I'd have been the happiest man alive if I was invited into MOT. But here's the thing. I genuinely believed that I was writing songs that spoke to me. And for me. The reception at the gig, confirmed it. My self belief was solid. In my heart of hearts, I knew that Jamesey's heart wasn't in it with Uni and all that, Donny was game but very limited and Brian? Well, if he'd shown any indication that he'd go the distance, the conversation Devon and I were having would have been over before I dunked my first custard creme. It was always about Brian but he needed to work more than he needed to rock. The money was steadier and that goes a long way when you have none. But this is where my pragmatism kicked in. I knew I had a strong hand and I was intent on playing it.

George - I've got a proposal for you.

Devon - Go on...

George - I've written a couple of songs recently that my guys just can't get down. However much we rehearse, they just can't make them sound like I want them to sound, you know?

Devon - And?

George - I'd like to work with Billy and Gordon to see if they can get more out of my songs. A fresh approach. Not MOT, not the Molotovs, something new.

Devon (intrigued) - Sounds interesting. I'll speak to Gordon and Billy about this right away.

George - You do that.

Devon goes to make the call.




Narrator - Holy fuck. I'm going ball deep with this. The excitement of getting to play with top musicians in top venues is tempered by my duplicitious scheming. If I go, I've sold my mates out. Guys I've known since childhood. If I stay, am I selling myself short? What will my friends think of me? Judas? Understandable. Chancer? Definitely. As I await the call, I have a very heavy heart.




Devon returns...

Narrator - The moment of truth...

Devon (picking up papers) - Looks like we have a deal. Let's go.

George - D'you know what? I'll meet you there. Need a bit of me time...




Cut to Billy's room. Billy puts phone down.




Gordon - So that's it?

Billy - Seems to be. MOT is no more.

Gordon - We'd better tell Mel and Mondo.

Cut to George walking through the streets of Glasgow.

Narrator - No going back now. In one crazy morning, I've went from being a no hoper with precisely one gig under my belt to a head-hunted singer, within touching distance of a record deal. This is INCREDIBLE! (George lets out a yell!)  And exhilarating! But also terrifying. What if I've over estimated my true worth and make a right cunt of this? A back combed Judas Iscariot with eyeliner. A Quisling in cowboy boots. I'd be finished with Gordon and Billy as well as being a pariah in the eyes of the Brian, Donny and Jamesey. My friends. How am I going to break this to them?

George walks past the Doune Pub, scene of their only gig together.

Narrator - I've made a mistake. I can call off. Say I was only joking. Gordon and Billy would believe that, wouldn't they? That way, the boys needn't know about my sneaky bastard deceit.

George stops beside the river and watches it flow.

Narrator - But - and this but is bigger than Randy Crawford's Cosmic one - I want this. There. I've said it. Selfish hat on. I want to do this. For a better chance of fame and riches? Sure. That can't hurt. But curiosity really. How would my songs sound if they were played, in tune, by people who have more than just a passing interest in their instrument?

George reaches Billy's flat.

Narrator - Who was I kidding? The moment the last note rang out at the Doune, I'd already made my decision. We just didn't know it at the time but all roads led here.




Door opens and George has arrived.

Devon - Here he is! right, I've got a few ideas how we can...

George -  Devon. Not now.

Gordon (sympathetic) - Do you want me to speak to the lads?

Billy - I'll do it, George...if you want.

George - No, I should do this. I need to do this

Billy - Here...

Billy hands George the phone and pours three Scotches.




George tries Brian's number but it's engaged.

Donny's too.

George - Looks like it's Jamesey first then.

Narrator - One of the most awful moments of my life...

George - Jamesey, can you talk?

Jamesey - What's up?

George - I'm leaving the band.

Jamesey - Really?

George - Yep.

Jamesey - Phew, that's a relief.

George - What?

Jamesey -I didn't want to tell you but I've always fucking hated playing your songs, no offence like...

George - None taken...

Jamesey - It's nothing personal but I've been jamming with these guys from Maryhill for the last couple of weeks. Didn't know how to tell you...or the lads.

George - That's cool mate.

Jamesey - It's been fun though.

George - Yeah, it has.




Narrator - Fuck, that was out of the blue. In the future, Jamesey becomes a property developer in New Mexico and learns how to use that magnificent implement he'd been hiding down his corduroys all those years. Now, the tricky part...




George - Donny?

Donny - What's up Geo man?

George - I don't know how to tell you this Skull but...

Close up on George as the pain kicks in.




Cut to next call




George - Brian?

Close up again on George, wiping his eyes.

Brian (curt) - Meet me tomorrow. Knockers. At 7.




Gordon gives George a large refill.




George - I'm done.







Cut to Nico's. It's not too busy. Devon has been celebrating the birth of the new unit but no one's really in the mood to wet the 'baby's head'.




Devon - The Falcons? What about The Vultures? Or the Crows?

Gordon (sarcastically) - What about the Eagles?

Devon - Don't be silly.

Billy - The name will come. We have time. What we don't have is a keyboard player.

Gordon - Goodbye sweet Mel (raising his glass)...at least Mondo's in. For now.

Billy - He's been spending more time running his clubs than rehearsing recently.

George (drinking heavily) - Need a clean slate.

Devon - What about Clean Slate?

Gordon - Jesus...




Cut to door opening. Jamesey and Donny arrive.




Devon - Let me get you boys a drink.

Jamesey (pretending to be annoyed) - No. I'll get my own.

Donny - (genuinely annoyed) - A bottle of Furstenberg and a pernod and blackcurrant.

George - Boys...

Jamesey - Fucking Judas...(winking)

Donny (hurt) - I can't speak to you Geo...




They take a table away from the main party...




Gordon - Well, early start tomorrow. Let's see if you've been worth all this trouble.

Billy - Rest that voice of yours. Big day tomorrow.

George looks at the table where Jamesey and Donny are sitting.

George - Yeah, I think I'll head too.




The party say their goodbyes to the bar, shaking hands with the Molotovs as they depart. George walks out with his head down. Donny follows George out of the bar and calls out to him.




Donny - Geo! Come here.

George turns to his former bass player and prepares for the worst.

Donny grabs George by the back of the head and pulls his head towards him.

Donny - You've broke my heart. You cunt.

George - Donny...I...

Donny - Shut up. (sighs) Look, I get it. I understand why you did it, man. I just wanted it to be...you know?

George (choked) - Thanks Skull.

Donny - You're still my brother.

George puts his head to Donny's.

Donny - And don't forget, I still want the first dibs at splattering your new bed sheets.

George laughs as they part.




Cut to Billy's flat...the new band are listening to the days work..

George - What do you think?

Gordon - I like it. Needs a bit more guitar...

Narrator - Obviously....

Gordon ...but I do like it.

Billy - Sounds...fresh. Same time tomorrow.

Gordon - When are you meeting Brian?

George - Now...




Cut to Knockers, a bar filled with middle aged men ogling at the barmaids, all of whom are scantily clad and are well endowed.

Narrator - If you're having a bad day, there's nothing like a big pair of tits to make life seem just a tad less troublesome.

Brian - Alright mate?

George - Sorry I'm late. Have you been waiting long?

Brian - Nah. I got here at lunchtime.

They laugh. George orders a couple of beers.

George - Listen mate, I'm sorry it had to be like this.

Brian - I can't say I'm not pissed off...but...

George - But?

Brian - I do get it. You need to do this. Don't get me wrong, I love it ...all of it....but if you're asking me to leave my apprenticeship and take the gamble on the off chance that we make it, I just can't. I'll still play when I can but it's not the be all and end all for me. But it is for you. And Gordon and Billy.  It is for them too.

George - You're right. Are we cool?

Brian - Of course we're fucking cool. We will always be cool.

Narrator - And do you know what? He was right. We still are.

Brian - Now shut the fuck up and let me look at some quality chestage.




Cut to same bar, but much later. Both Brian and George are very drunk. They're standing at the urinal, attempting to pee. Both are groaning and are unable to begin.

Brian - What's up with you?

George - What's up with me? What's up wi' you, ya sex pest? You're not trying to knock out a sly one, are you?

Brian - No. My nut sack has been killing me since the Viva.

George starts singing..

George - Start spreading the news, Brian's balls are all blue...

Brian - Fuck up! What about you?

George - Ever since I shagged that Melissa girl, my cock's been louping.

Brian - Hehehehe! Serves you right ya manky bastard!

George - I thought she was a good girl. Well, until she told me to take her up the Rangers end. Now my balloon knot has blown up to the size of a donut and it feels like its super-glued to my jeans...

Brian - Look at my balls. Please, look at my balls. Tell me they're alright.

George - Fuck off. Bender.

Brian - Seriously mate. Do me a favour?

George - Only if you look at mine.

Brian - Fuck off ya super bender!

George - Listen, we know we're both not gay. Not even curious. This is for scientific purposes only.

Brian - Absolutely comfortable with my sexuality...yes.

George - OK, on the count of three...

One...two...three..

Brian and George look at each others privates.

Brian/George - Aaaaaarrggh!!!!

George - Fuck mate, you need to see a doctor.

Brian - Maybe but you need to see a baker...




An old man walks in to see the boys comparing..

Old Man - Do you want to see mine?

George and Brian turn around in horror.




Cut to Knockers, lights going off and shutters are pulled down...

Brian and George stand outside the closing bar

George - You can crash at mine tonight, if you want.

Brian - Nah, got to be in East Kilbride for 7 in the morning for a living room, staircase and two bedrooms. I might nick your bed at the weekend. I'm meeting the voluptuous Kim.

George - Balls permitting?

Brian - Balls permitting.




Cut to a drunk George heading back towards his flat. As he approaches, he notices Donny sitting on the steps to his block eating out of a bucket of fried chicken.

Donny - Are you a leg or a breast man?

George - Come to check up on your investment?

Cut to George and Donny sitting by the open window, devouring the fast food.

Donny - Nice pad Geo.

George - Cheers mate.

Donny - Thought I'd bring you a wee housewarming gift...

Cut to Donny's hand, a small plastic bag filled with magic mushrooms.

Donny - Courtesy of Mad Alco.

George (impressed) - Shit...

Donny and George swallow the mushrooms, washing them down with glass bottles of Irn Bru.

Donny - So, when do I get my own key?




Narrator - That night, I had a dream. It was the most vivid dream of my life. (Cut to Donny lying on his back on the floor staring intensely at a record sleeve, George is looking out of the window at the stars and writing frenetically) I was simultaneously Jesus and a rock star. No, seriously. I know I have had delusions of grandeur and a slight messiah complex for years but hear me out...I dreamt that I was Jesus, and not just Jesus as a saviour but Jesus as a hip shaking rock star extra terrestrial with a jewel encrusted belt buckle shaped like a pair of cosmic titties and seven fingers on each hand. And as I looked out into the horizon wearing my pristine robes, all I could see were my people, all colours, shapes and sizes in their robes too. And with the bolts of light and joy coming from under my sticky donut shaped foreskin, we were one consciousness working together...for rock. And lo, on the drum riser, there was a name...(Cut to notepad page full of manic scribbles but with one name repeatedly standing out in bold) and that name was WHITE! So let it be written, so let it be done. Billy and Gordon still insist that since the impression of white is obtained by three summations of light intensity across the visible spectrum, that's a more viable and scientifically correct story but I think mine carries a bit more of the dramatic, don't you?




END 

Copyright George Paterson 2012