Episode 8 - The Shawlands Redemption

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Episode 8 - The Shawlands Redemption.
By George Paterson



Opens in a basement studio. Band is recording. The set up is better than Sound City but still not quite top of the range.

Engineer (Chris) in sound booth speaks to band through the headphones.

Chris - We've got another 10 minutes if you want to throw something else down...

Band nod in agreement. They then proceed to play a sloppy, shambolic jam which ends with the band laughing hysterically.

Narrator - If at first you don't succeed, redefine your definition of success. Things could be a lot worse. OK, we've watched our contemporaries get record deals, have hits and found themselves moderately wealthy but we're not doing too bad. Enough money to eat, drink and live in a flat that has a roof. That's not to be sniffed at. And we've booked sessions at Chris's studio, all paid for by a money spinning gig in America!

Cut to band in the van boarding a ferry at night. It is very misty. George and Jim move into the back of van.

George - Are you sure this is legal?

Gordon - Shut up and get in the big case.

Billy - Until we get paid, we can only afford to pay for one van plus two passengers. Jim, I can see your feet.

Jim climbs inside the bass drum.

Jim (muffled) - Better?

George (mutters) - I'm the bloody singer. How the fuck did I end up in the back? Whose leg is this? Crawfy?

Crawfy sticks his head out from under a pile of bags.

Crawfy - Not mine. Could be Devon's.

Devon shouts from beneath the guitar cases...

Devon - Not mine. Must be Stevie.

Stevie remains unseen. The band look in the back for Stevie. A loud, sustained parp reverberates around the van.

Gordon - He's definitely here.

Stevie (muffled) - Sorry girls!




Narrator - OK, smuggling 5 guys in the back of a Transit wasn't quite the glamour of Los Angeles or excitement of New York but the American Nuclear Naval base in the Holy Loch still counted as the US. Hell, they even paid us in dollars.

Cut to band playing slow ballad in front of a large but unimpressed crowd of US service personnel and their partners. Devon, Stevie and Crawfy, looking worried and very much out of place, are throwing back shots at the bar.

An extremely mean looking sailor goes up to band...

Intimidating Sailor - Play some soul.

George - Excuse me?

Intimidating Sailor (shouting) - Are you deaf white boy? We want to dance. Play some goddamned, motherfucking soul!

Narrator - I guess the nursing home set is out then...

Jim stops mid song, counts out and the band immediately drop into Curtis Mayfield's 'Move on Up'

Narrator - Dap dap dah dah dah durr (along with the tune)

Cut to end of song, rapturous applause before band play fast/Otis version of 'Satisfaction'.

Narrator - Eating out of the palms of our hands. One thing regular gigging does is sharpen up your game. You become match fit. And versatile. Which can come in very handy...

Cut to after gig, Sailor goes up to the band. He corners George.

Intimidating Sailor - Hey boy!

The others depart swiftly.

Intimidating Sailor - What kind of fucked up name is WHITE? You better not be some sort of stupid ass supremacists.

George (tired) -Look at me, man. I'm 10st wet, I have long hair and I wear eyeliner. Do I look like a fucking nazi to you?

Intimidating Sailor puts his face right up to George's.

Intimidating Sailor (laughs) - Man, I'm just fucking with y'all. You boys were good. (grabs George) I'm gonna buy your skinny ass a beer. Have you ever been to Detroit? I know a place you guys would destroy!

Narrator - Thank the Lord. I really didn't want to have to kick his ass in front of his friends.

Cut back to Studio, band are listening to their work.

Chris - What do you think?

Gordon - I'm happy.

Billy - Works for me.

Chris - If you don't mind me asking, what are you going to do with the recordings?

George - Send it off to London like our other demos, I suppose.

Chris - You know Campbell Baxter?

Narrator - Of course we do. Spent his not inconsiderable inheritance removing Raw Sex from Sound City studios...

Cut to 'Raw Sex' Raymond throwing bank notes into the air.

Narrator - ...and shoehorning his band Softly, Softly into the charts.

Cut to weedy pop/soul band playing saccharine ballad in front of swooning teenagers.

Narrator - A band so evil, Satan himself doesn't have a storage unit big enough for their unholy souls. I'm not jealous.

Devon - Baxter? What about him?

Chris - He's putting together an album of songs from various Glasgow bands called 'Dear Green Place'. You should get some of these songs to him.

Narrator - Great idea. But there's one little flaw...

Cut to after show party for Softly Softly, WHITE are enjoying the free drink and food. A small bookish man wearing glasses approaches.

Campbell Baxter - Well, if it isn't Glasgow's favourite losers? Please, help yourselves. Enjoy this. You never know when you're going to be in the presence of greatness again. Weren't my band just sensational?

George - No, they sucked balls.

Campbell Baxter - At least we're not begging for gigs at old folks homes, eh Devon?

Gordon (eating) - Give me one reason I don't knock his teeth down his fucking throat.

Campbell Baxter - For one, I'm a lawyer and I'd sue you for every penny you have. But seeing as you're as successful as a bald Korean Billy Idol tribute act, that wouldn't pay for my left hand manicure. Secondly, if you want to get ahead in this town, you need a real manager with real contacts, isn't that right, Devon?

Devon scowls but remains silent.

Campbell Baxter - And if you do, maybe you'll stop hanging around cheap whores and be able to pull some real talent. Say hi to Tanya...

Statuesque blonde appears, smiles at band.

Campbell Baxter - Now, say bye to Tanya. And that's as close as you guys will ever get to real class. (puts fingers out) Smell that?

That's the smell of success, suckers. Keep on keeping on, White boys.

Baxter walks away.

Billy - I've come to the conclusion that he's a bigger tit than Lloyd Cole.

George - And that's saying something

Devon - I will give £1000 to the first man who gets the lovely Tanya from that little scrote.

Gordon - Forget the money, I would be honoured to take on this mission.

Jim - Fuck it, I'm in too. George?

George - It would be rude not to.

Billy - And I'll get you photographs.

Band look at Tanya walking away. She turns around and smiles at them.

Narrator - Somehow, I don't think that this will be much of a challenge.

Cut back to studio...

Chris - So, you're fucked then?

Band nod collectively.




Cut to Nicos pub...

Narrator - As the proverb goes, never trust a guy who has a surname for a first name. Apart from Crawfy that is.

Cut to George cruising with Crawfy in his spectacular Red Ford Falcon. Crawfy turns the music up really loud as they speed away loudly.

Cut back to Nico's

Narrator- Never mind, we've got our new master tapes. And who better to get it working than...

Devon - Myra!

Myra - What do you want Devon?

Devon - Now is that how you speak to your oldest and dearest friend?

Myra - I'm still not talking to you.

Devon - Why is that, my sweet little peach?

Myra - Let me cast my mind back. Is it because I was left with a three figure bar bill from the Softly, Softly after show that I had to foot?

Devon - You know the lads, they can get quite thirsty.

Myra - Or is it because I went to Houston to cover a gig that you failed to show for? Well, it was not so much a gig as a cheery wee aryan get together.

Devon - Yeah...about that...

Myra - Or could it be that a certain sluttish member of your extended party caused me to take an unplanned trip to the (whispers angrily) lady garden clinic?

Narrator - Sluttish member of our party? C'mon Myra, narrow it down a bit.

Devon - Sweetest Myra, I can only apologise on behalf of the manky bastard in question and I assure you that once the antibiotics wear off, paid for by myself, we'll continue to treat you with the loving respect and deference you so thoroughly merit.

Myra (sighs) - Enough already...

Devon - We hear that there is an album being compiled...

Myra - Forget it.

Devon - Campbell Baxter hates our guts. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Myra. You're our only hope.

Myra (groans) - Sweet sword of Jesus...

Narrator - Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for the right woman at your side, kid.




Cut to the flat, George enters to find Brian asleep on the sofa bed in the living room and Donny cooking dinner.

George - What the fuck is that smell?

Donny - Oh, that's the lettuce.

George - Doesn't smell like lettuce.

Donny - It does if you try to defrost it in the grill.

Donny shows George the charred salad.

Narrator - Makes sense I suppose.

Donny - Hungry?

George - Funnily enough, no. Up for Nico's later?

Donny - Maybe after our rehearsal. But guess what?

George - Go on.

Brian (awakening) - We've got a roadie!

George - No chance!

Brian - Serious.

Narrator - Calm the ham! We don't even have a roadie.

Donny - Owns a van, loves the music, works for grub. He used to work on the Pepsi trucks, delivering with Andy.

George - Brilliant. What's the catch?

Donny - You understand that we are all human animals. Mammalian in essence.

George - Yes...

Donny - Well, this guy is on the periphery.

Brian - Borderline.

Narrator - Now, this I need to see.

Sound of toilet flushing and door opening.

Donny - And right on cue...

Enter very fat man with a shaved head.

Donny - He's called Archie but everyone knows him as Thumbheid.

Thumbheid (speaks with odd, high pitched voice) - Awright mate?

George - Silly question but why are you called Thumbheid?

Cut to various polaroids of very fat man with virtually no neck in permanent state of surprise.

Thumbheid - I've no idea.

Brian - Geo, have you heard about this compilation album that's being put together?

George - Yeah, but there's more chance of me winning University Challenge and then going on the pull with Bamber than us getting on that album. You guys should go for it.

Donny - I was going to speak to Campbell Baxter tonight at Sound City. I'll put a good word in for you.

George - For Christ sakes, don't tell him you know us. He really hates us. Anyway, I'm hearing you can't get near him these days for security.

Brian - That's true. Gone all Howard Hughes, power mental. But you're such lovable scamps, I'm sure you'll think of something.

George - If only I could talk to him. Reason with him. I'm sure he'd give us a chance.

Donny - But how?

Thumbheid (eating) - I know where he lives.

Brian, Donny and George turn to him.

Donny - What?

Thumbheid - He lives on Camphill Avenue in Shawlands. I used to deliver newspapers to his old dear.

Brian - To the Heid mobile.




Cut to van pulling up outside upmarket tenement block.




Thumbheid - Up there. The blue door is his. Number 22.

George - Nice gaff.

Donny - What are you waiting for? Go for it!

George leaves van clutching cassette and heads up the staircase. Walks up to the blue door and rings the bell. Donny, Brian and Thumbheid look on.

Tanya opens the door, wearing chiffon robe.

Tanya - Oh hello!

George - Hi Tanya. Is Campbell around?

Tanya - He's at the studio with the Softly's. He won't be back for...oh at least a couple of hours. Do you want to come in?

George looks directly at camera.

Narrator - This would be the point in the movie when the hero, gallantly resisting the dangerous charms of the femme fatale, remembers he's a gentleman and walks away, just and chaste to the very end.

George - Aye, OK...

Narrator - Don't judge me.




Cut to George buttoning up shirt and putting his socks on. Tanya is in the shower.

Tanya - So what did you want to see Campbell about?

George - It's about this album he's compiling. We really need to be on it.

Tanya - I don't know. You did say that Softly Softly were crap. That hurt Campbell.

George - I didn't say that. And I didn't mean to hurt him...

Narrator - But you were quite happy to cuckold him? Shame on you.

George - I actually said that they suck balls... (whispers quickly) because they do. Can I ask you something personal, Tanya?

Tanya emerges from the shower.

Tanya - Fire away.

George (picks up picture of Baxter) - Why are you with this fucking two soups warhead?

Tanya - We have an understanding.


George - Do you love him?

Tanya - A bit too personal.

George - Sorry.

Tanya - OK, truth? Every time I'm seen with him in public, he pays me. Keeps the tabloids off his back. And I get to live here. Unfortunately, his money's just about gone and his lifestyle means that he owes a lot of people you shouldn't owe. If you know what I mean...

George - Holy shit!

Tanya - He really needs Softly Softly to hit it big or he's in the doggie doo. Do you know how much it cost him sending the band to LA to record their album? It's not cheap running a band.

Narrator - Tell me about it.

Tanya - Not that it matters much. I'm moving on shortly.

George - Really? Is it the money?

Tanya (gets close to George) - Can you keep a secret?

Narrator - Of course I fucking can't!

George - Sure.

Tanya - Have you ever heard of Microsoft Windows?

George - The double glazing firm?

Tanya - No, it's computers. I've got a job in the States, writing programmes.

Narrator - Hawd the bus!

George - For the telly?

Tanya - No, for computers.

George - Can you watch programmes on a computer?

Tanya (takes George's face in her hands and laughs) - Jesus...what are you going to do when your looks fade? Do you know anyone with a van?

George - If I get you a van, can I leave you a copy of the demo?

Tanya - I've already got one. It's actually quite good.

George - What? How?

Tanya - Gordon brought round a master copy this afternoon.

Narrator - The sly dog!

Tanya - Oh, and can you give this back to Jim? He left it earlier.

Tanya hands George a camera.

George - But this is Billy's camera?

Tanya - What was I thinking? Of course it's Billy's.

Narrator - Phew! What have I missed?

Tanya (handing belt to widemouthed George) - This belongs to Jim.

Narrator - Who'd have thunk it? Seems that the bold Tanya was a bit more than just expensive arm candy. A super shagging, computer boffin, Bond girl who's just bleeding our nemesis dry before heading to Redmond, USA. Things are starting to look up. But I would suggest to Mr Gates that he puts all his patents in a very strong box behind a very secure door.




George leaves the apartment and returns to the van, slightly shocked and bemused.

Brian - Well, what did he say?

George - Nothing.

Donny - What do you mean, nothing?

George (sheepish) - He wasn't there.

Donny - You shagged big Tanya, didn't you?

George (defensive) - What makes you think that?

Brian -Those aren't your trousers.

George looks down at the jeans he's wearing. They are sequinned.

George - Bollocks.

Donny, Brian and Thumbheid laugh as they drive off.

Voiceover of George - Might have a job for you Thumbheid...




Cut to Nico's at night. Band are carrying out a post coital inquiry.




George - So, who was first?

Jim's hand goes up.

Gordon - Dirty wee bastard.

Billy - Don't you agree that there's nothing worse than looking down and seeing a split, leaking condom hanging off the end of your cock?

Band nods in agreement.

Gordon - ...especially when you weren't wearing one to begin with.

The band let out a collective...Ewwww!!

Devon - So, all we need is for the track to be included on the album, printed then we'll go for the bastard?

Myra arrives.

Gordon - What news from Rome, Cleopatra?

Myra - Well centurion, my source tells me that a certain manager received a very large grant from Glasgow City Council to get this album together. Half of it went into the back pocket of Softly, Softly's Los Angeles producer and the other half bought a whole lot of strategically purchased Softly, Softly records. He bought them a hit record but he's been selling places on the album to interested parties ever since. £1000 a track.

George - Sneaky two soups bastard!

Devon - I admire his brio.

Billy - So, where does that leave us?

Myra - Well, when I approached the very elusive Mr Baxter with this info, he said that he'd make you a deal. A track, of his choosing, on the album for £500.

Billy - He can get fucked.

The band nods in agreement.

Myra - I thought you'd say that so I told him that if he didn't put a track of yours on the album, free of charge, I'd tell the papers. And the council. And the fraud squad.

Jim - So?

Myra - So, you're in! Side two, after Deacon Blue and before Bing Hitler. Launch party on Friday night at Mondo's.

Gordon - If I didn't know where your lips had been, I'd kiss you.

The band celebrate.


Narrator - Yes! We're going to be on an album! A real piece of vinyl! OK, it's only one tune. And it's hidden away on side two between Dundee's 2nd dullest man and the Joycean rantings of a mad boozebag, but beggars can't be choosers.

George - Don't want you to break a confidence Myra, but who was it that gave you the info?

Myra (very serious) - A good journalist never burns her source. The bond between a source and a journalist is sacrosanct, a confidence that can never, I mean NEVER be betrayed. I am frankly disappointed in you. If you think for a minute that I would give Tanya up...you've got another think coming. I am very thirsty though...

George smiles.

Narrator - Good old Myra. Now, haven't we got a record launch to attend?




Cut to Mondo's nightclub. The host warmly welcomes his old band.

Mondo - Congratulations lads! So, have you heard it yet?

Devon - No, we're picking our copies up tonight.

George - Can't wait to hear this.

Billy - Did you find out which track they used, Myra?

Myra - Nope. It's been kept under wraps. But I did hear that advance sales have made it the Number 7 album in Scotland.

Narrator - Be still my giddy heart.

Devon - Here comes that slimy prick Baxter now. Get ready boys.

Campbell Baxter walks on stage, with a huge smile beaming from his face.

Campbell Baxter - Welcome one and all to the launch of 'Dear Green Place', a compilation of the best talent, signed and unsigned, currently working in Glasgow with a couple of little surprises thrown in. I'm going to introduce all the tracks individually then take questions afterwards.

Narrator - I've already prepared my speech. I want to thank my Mum, Otis Redding and God, obviously...

Baxter plays the tracks from established bands like Hipsway, The Bluebells and Softly, Softly before getting to Deacon Blue. White are up next.

Chris the engineer arrives. Tanya appears, wearing large shades and frantically tries to get Myra's attention.

George - Hey man! How's things?

Chris - I'm fine. Just a bit surprised which song you chose for the disc, that's all.

Gordon - Whatcha talkin' bout Willis?

Chris - I thought we could have showcased something ...well, better actually.

Billy - I don't understand...

Cut to Myra talking to Devon, the latter reels back open mouthed. Myra looks across to the band, almost as shocked as Devon.

Narrator - Oh no...

Campbell Baxter - Next, track 14 from on of Glasgow's more...interesting bands. I'll let you be the judge. Here's White...

Cut to the assembled crowd of musicians, politicians and media looking baffled as White's throwaway jam from the end of the session plays.

Narrator - Sweet Jesus no...

Certain members of the crowd start whispering, pointing then laughing towards the band who are in turn are furious, embarrassed and stunned.

Campbell Baxter - Well, wasn't that fun? Something tells me that we'll still be talking about this after your fifteen minutes of fame have dissolved. Next, if you haven't laughed yourselves out, we have Glasgow's favourite wild anarcho comic, Track 15, Bing Hitler.

Bing Hitler (whispers to band) - For what it's worth, I quite liked it.

Cut to end of the party, the band are leaving the club, still furious. Baxter, surrounded by security, shouts out.

Baxter - Suck it up boys. While I'm number 1, to me, you'll always be a bunch of Number 2's.

Devon loses it and goes for Baxter.

Devon - I'm going to fucking kill you.

Baxter - With all of these witnesses? Not smart Devon, not smart at all.


The band hold Devon back.

George - Don't worry mate. We've got this.

Bing Hitler walks up behind Baxter and without being noticed, pours bottle of beer into his pocket.

Bing Hitler (whispers to Baxter) - Wank.

Narrator - In the future, Bing Hitler rebrands himself and becomes the host of the Tonight show in the States. Seriously. However, as far as that two soup bawbag is concerned, this means war!




Cut to Thumbheids van and Crawfy's Ford Falcon parked on a disused piece of field.

George - Delta Force will hit Shawlands while Wolverines from Red Dawn start the resistance at Sound City.

Donny - Are we Delta Force?

Jim - I voted for A-Team.

Billy - What about Broadsword calling Danny Boy, come in Danny Boy?

Brian - I still think Untouchables would be a better code name.

Gordon - That way George could be Eloquent Mess. Get it?

Thumbheid and Crawfy stand by their vehicles in silent bemusement.

George - Right! SHUT THE FUCK UP! Donny, Thumbheid, Gordon and I are Delta Force. Billy, Brian, Crawfy and Jim are the Wolverines from Red Dawn. We rendezvous Byres Road at 2100 hours. You know your signals and code words. Let's rock.




Cut to vehicles speeding off.














Cut to Thumbheid's van outside Baxter's apartment, Delta Force are ready for action.

George - Right, we all know what we're doing?

Donny - Get in, get her gear, shite in his hot tub then bolt?

George - The defecation might not be necessary.

Donny - I think it would be a nice touch.

Gordon (checking hair in mirror) - Guys, why don't I go up to the flat...alone...for a final bit of recon?

George - For fuck sake, put it away for five minutes. We've got business to attend to. Payback for the album and for Tanya.

Gordon shrugs then nods in agreement

Donny - Right Thumbheid, you know the drill. If Baxter returns, you give us the signal.

George - Make it loud enough for us to hear, OK?

Thumbheid - Aye, aye...I'm no stupid.

Gordon - Shall we?




The trio run up the stairs of the block like Ninjas. Donny uses his fingers as a pretend gun.

Tanya opens the door, still wearing shades and the guys start carrying boxes and suitcases down to the van. Thumbheid stands at the front of the van concentrating more on his takeaway meal than on his given task.

Narrator - All going to plan so far...

A taxi pulls up in front of the van and Baxter exits carrying a bag of groceries.

Thumbheid drops his bottle of Irn Bru as he runs out into the street, screaming towards the apartment in a high pitched voice...

Thumbheid - Abortion!!! Abortion!!!




(cut to slow motion scene with music - Intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana) Baxter turns, recognises Thumbheid and realising something untoward is going on, pulls out a baguette and throws it at Thumbheid, hitting him in the head but not before Thumbheid launches his ketchup covered chips towards Baxter. The red ketchup splatters over Baxter's causing him to yell out in anguish before reeling back as if wounded. The noise has alerted the guys and Tanya who now realise that an easy escape is not possible. Thumbheid charges towards Baxter who sidesteps him easily, causing the van driver to go head first over a small wall and into a hedge. Baxter looks up at the balcony and sees Tanya. He drops his bag, yells out before running up the staircase to his apartment. Cut to 'Wolverines' at Sound City. They trap the security guard in a revolving door before making their way upstairs to the studio. They open up their guitar cases to reveal a multitude of tools. They start dismantling and rewiring all of the amplifiers in the studio, priming them to blow when next used. They leave via the back exit and into Crawfy's Red Ford Falcon. Cut back to Delta Force. The last of the suitcases are thrown over the balcony, one of which hits the staggering Thumbheid, knocking him to the ground again. Cut to studio, Stevie, Devon and Chris sit in the control room, looking at the clock, nervously. Cut back to Baxter's apartment. George calls to Donny, telling him that there is no time left. Donny pulls up his trousers, disappointed that he wasn't able to leave a parting gift for Baxter. As the guys run past Baxter on the staircase, he pushes Donny who pushes him back towards George, whose hair he attempts to pull before seeing Tanya at his door, leaving for the last time. She takes her shades off to reveal a black eye. She whispers something to Baxter before heading to the van. Gordon approaches Baxter and cocks his arm, causing him to cower before walking off. He is distraught and climbs on to the balcony, shouting out Tanya's name. As the van pulls away, he swan dives from the balcony...

(back to real time) And lands on the pavement with an almighty thud...the van screeches to an abrupt halt.

George - Holy fuck! Did you see that?

Gordon - I think he's dead.

Donny - I'm going to check.




Donny goes over to look at the body.

Donny - He's...he's not moving.

Campbell Baxter (groans) - You talentless pieces of shit. You'll never work in this town again...

Donny (shouts) - It's alright. He's fine.

Donny kicks him in the ribs and walks back to the van.

Narrator - We found out later that on top of hitting women, big brave two soups used to bully Thumbheid, stealing his newspaper money and generally picking on him for not looking like one of the many pop hopefuls that passed his way. But while our man might not have won many prizes for his razor sharp intellect or for his non symmetrical looks, it was clear that the guy's heart lay in exactly the right place.

Cut to Tanya offering Thumbheid a bundle of notes for services rendered. Thumbheid refuses to take anything. Tanya points to a chip shop. Thumbheid looks shyly to the floor before nodding. Cut to Tanya, Thumbheid, Gordon, Donny and George standing outside of the chip shop eating straight from the bag. Crawfy's Red Ford Falcon pulls up followed by Devon's White Suzuki.

Cut to Sound City studios, security have checked the premises. Nothing appears to be untoward.

Security guard on phone - It's strange boss, they didn't seem to take anything. Yes sir. It's all here.

Softly, Softly enter and start to remove their instruments from their cases.

Narrator - There are times I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who did some messed up things. I want to talk to him: sometimes I would like to slap him in that unbearably pretty face but mostly I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can't. That kid's long gone and this old man is all that's left. I got to live with that. Maturity? It's just a bullshit word. So, you go on look at the chart positions sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth...

Cut to singer and guitarist going to switch on their equipment.

Narrator - ... I don't give a shit.




End.