Episode 9 - There can be only one...

Everybody Wants to Rule the World by George Paterson - Episode 9 - There can be only one...



Opens outside cinema showing the film, Highlander. A sandwich board advertises the prices, 'Full adult -£3.50, Concessions/Unemployed - 50p entry!'


Voiceover - in style of Sean Connery ...From the Dawn of Time we came, moving silently down through the centuries. (Cut to cinema aisles bulging with assorted musicians, students and layabouts, stumbling around like cavemen) Living many secret lives. (Cut to crowd, trendy types in disguise engrossed in the 'uncool' film) Struggling to reach the Time of the Gathering, when the few who remain will battle to the last. (Cut to Gordon, Billy and George sitting in the middle scoffing food) No one has ever known we were among you...until now.




Narrator - It might not be our first choice...

Quick cut to flat, George, Billy and Gordon fight back the tears while watching the schmaltzy show, 'Highway to Heaven'.

Narrator - ...but, it'll kill a few hours on a Friday afternoon.

Cut back to cinema.

George (whispering) - Don't the Highlands look great?
Billy - They sure do.
Gordon - Didn't they film this in Spain?
George - The Highlands aren't in Spain.
Gordon - But if Sean Connery is a Spaniard ...
Billy - And Christopher Lambert is a Scotsman..
Gordon - Exactly.
George - We should tour there.
Billy - Where? Spain?




Narrator - There can be only one... if you don't count the sequels, TV shows and cartoons. But the rugged landscape of Scotland (or was it Spain?) was calling. And as certain doors in Glasgow were getting slammed in our faces, it might be prudent to take the circus on the road.

Cut to Devon's flat.

Devon - Are you sure you want to do this? Touring is a pain in the arse and even if you had a disc to promote, it's very costly...
Billy - The road is calling us, man. What can you do?
Devon - Well, I have contacts, on the West Coast mainly...but we could hit the East Coast if budgets allow.
Narrator - Ah, San Francisco and Los Angeles...then across the continent to Chicago, Philly and New Fucking York!
Devon - We might go as far as Aberdeen but I can't promise anything at this stage.
Narrator - The sound of air deflating from a balloon is becoming the defining sound of our musical careers...
Gordon - As we're going on the road Devon, can we now afford a roadie?
George - We could do with a keyboard player actually.
Narrator - Suddenly the heavens broke...
Gordon (assertively) - We don't need a keyboard player.
Billy - All of our recordings have piano on them.
Gordon - Recordings, yes. But stuck in a van with a keyboard player going all fucking Rick Wakeman or Howard Jones? Bollocks to that. I hate keyboard players more than I hate drummers and I fucking despise drummers. No offence Jim.
Jim, sitting on the couch, looks up from his comic.
Jim - None taken. (whispers) Wank.
George - But look at the music you've been listening to recently...Van Halen, Robert Palmer, INXS...Go fucking West for Chrissakes...they all have made use of keyboards.
Billy - It would make our set a bit more versatile...gives us a bit more colour.
Devon - Makes sense.
Gordon (groans) - Right. But no fucking synths, no stoners, no jazzers and no prog rockers, those are my conditions.
George - Sounds fair.
Billy - Now, where do we find a non noodling, piano player who has his own gear, is willing to sleep in the van, who'll keep his mouth shut and do as he's told?
George - Without being paid much.
Gordon and Devon (together) - Damn right.
Jim - I know a guy...plays piano, doesn't have a job at the moment, been to some of our shows so he knows our stuff and would do it in a heartbeat. His name is Deke.

Narrator - Hell, that was easy. Sometimes, life just pieces together these happy little jigsaws for us. What could possibly go wrong?

Cut to rehearsal room and in walks the piano player with Jim. He's stylish, handsome and looks like a young Chet Baker.
Jim - This is Deke.
Narrator - He has to go.
Deke - Hey guys. Thanks for the opportunity.
Gordon and Billy welcome him warmly. A huffy George is less impressed.
Narrator - Hawl, James Dean! This is my territory. All available slots have been filled. Gordon is the Alpha male, Jim is the housewives favourite, Billy is the Zen Master and I'm the unbearably good looking one. Sorry, as Freddie says, 'There can be only one'...
Gordon - Let's see what you've got. A little jam in the key of C?
Deke - No bother.
The band start jamming.
Narrator - Bollocks. He's good.
It is evident that Deke is a talented player. But every time George goes to sing, Gordon and Deke go into intricate solos. Billy too, gets in on the act leaving George frustrated. They get to the end of the piece...
Gordon (to Deke) - Welcome to the band.
Narrator - He has to go.




Cut to Nico's. Myra and Devon are talking about the tour.

Myra - I have a few guys up north who I can speak to.
Devon - So far, I've got Dundee, Edinburgh and Wick taken care of. If you can arrange something in Aberdeen and Inverness, that would help. And there's a new wine bar opened in Fort William that have been bugging us to play.
Myra - Wine bar? For White?
Devon - We might as well. We have a piano player now. Anyway, the owner said that if we play the wine bar on the Tuesday, he'll find a slot for us at a rock festival he's set up on the Saturday.




Cut to Gordon's flat. George and Billy are there with Gordon working on songs.
Gordon - So, why don't you like him?
George - He's a stuck up wank. And he looks like he's just bounded in from the set of a Nicholas Ray film.
Billy and Gordon look at each other, blankly.
George - And he's a fucking jazzer. Gordon, correct me if I'm wrong but didn't you say that anyone who likes Jazz should be beaten with a wah wah pedal, put in a bag and thrown in the Clyde?
Narrator - Conveniently forgetting your own illicit love of Jazz for a second, I see.
Billy - I like jazz.
George - But you're weird.
Narrator - Have you no shame? What's that word again? Is it hypocrite?
Gordon - We like him.
George - Well, I don't.
Pause...
Billy - It's his looks, isn't it?
Narrator - To the quick, Billy. Cut me to the quick. Now that I've been sussed out by the Mental Guru, there's nothing to do but nut up and shut up. We've got a mini tour of Scotland to negotiate. Inverness tomorrow, Aberdeen, Wick then Fort William. Rock and roll, eh? So, surely you'd think that Devon has organised a nice, easy little warm up before we head into the rock hinterlands?
Cut to rough looking pub
Narrator - Think again. Welcome to...The Jailhouse. Edinburgh's meanest, toughest biker bar.

Cut to band walking in. The whole bar stops and looks at them.

Narrator - Now, while Darryl Hall and John Oates teaming up with Sade may carry more obvious menace than us, we've become more than used to dealing with the kind of crowds you rarely see at a Hue and Cry concert.

Cut to various scraps, on stage and off.
Narrator - Easy with the face, guys.

Cut back to bar, mean looks all round.
Narrator - This ...is a dawdle.
Cut to long legged Rock chick standing at the bar as she turns and 'clotheslines' a 2nd statuesque Rock chick. They start brawling on the bar room floor. The bar stops staring at the band and turns its attentions to the cat fight. The band stare at the fight with a mix of shock and excitement.
Narrator - Told you. Dawdle.
The band move away from the fight as it reaches its climax but Deke seems transfixed by it.
George - Enjoying yourself?
Deke - Wow! Is it always like this?
George nods, smugly.
Deke - This is great!
George's face trips him again.




Cuts to band playing, the crowd is appreciative.
Narrator - 2nd term, University of Rock, Edinburgh campus. What an apprenticeship.
Song ends and crowd applauds. George addresses the crowd.
George - Thank you Jailhouse! This is the last song for the night...it's called...
Cut to crowd parting, left side of crowd facing off to the right side before violently attacking each other with chains and motorcycle helmets.
George ....Rip it up!

The band continue playing as the bar erupts. Billy, Jim and Gordon are feeding off the electric atmosphere. George turns to look at the keyboard player. He's crouching beneath his piano with only his hands and his quiff showing.
Narrator - Rock road rules, chapter 1. Should medium to large scale fight break out close to band, they'll always go for the piano player first. This guy is smarter than he looks.

Cut to outside gig, band packing gear away as police riot squad arrives. The band 'disappear' a couple of crates of beer as the melee continues to occupy the bar staff and bouncers.
Narrator - What would you call this? A welcoming committee in reverse? Anyway, so long and thanks for the fish. To the hotel!
Cut to conservative guest house lobby.
George - The name is White, should be a couple of rooms in our name. (removes shades) We're a band...
Receptionist - There is one room, twin...for a Mr White.
Narrator - Well, this is awkward.
Billy - Fucking Devon....
Gordon - There's a club down the road. We'll no doubt find a couple of young ladies to help us rest our weary wangs. Whoever doesn't score, gets the beds.
Jim - Game on.
Cut to hotel room, hours later. The full band, all five members are sleeping in the beds, on a chair and on the floor. The room reverberates to the rhythm of the snoring of the band.




Cut to band in van, next morning.
Screen says Edinburgh to Inverness 199m, 3hrs 56mins...6hrs to showtime at Clachan Park Rock Festival.

Narrator - We might only be getting expenses for this gig but I'm genuinely excited about playing a bona fide rock festival. Even though I've never heard of it.
Jim - Are we there yet?
Gordon - Devon said that they're expecting 4,000 there today.
Deke - Cool.
Billy - As long as the weather doesn't turn...
Cut to montage of changing drivers (and changing weather) as the hours fly past.
Narrator - 4 seasons in an afternoon. Welcome to Scotland. The origins of the name of the town we're heading towards, Inverness, comes from the local innuit name, Hakka Rapa Lurgie which I believe means town of the stray dog with plastic bag sticking out of its arse.
George - Are we there yet?
Billy - Almost. Just enough time for a sound check then onstage.
Cut to van arriving in Inverness and following signs for Clachan Park.
George - Don't see many rock types around here.
Gordon - Don't see many skinheads this time so that's a start.
The band laugh.
Jim - Here we go...Clachan Park.
The band pull into the small football stadium. There is no stage, just a small farmers market taking place.
Narrator - So this is what passes for rock and roll in the highlands...
Billy shouts out of the window.
Billy - Is this Clachan Park.
Old farmer - Aye son, it is.
Gordon - Where's the rock festival, old timer?
Old farmer - I hear that Lou Reed is currently warming up at the Bothy Bar and Iggy Pop is in that caravan over there with a couple of local lassies.
George - Are you serious?
Old farmer - No son, that will be what we call up here,  'taking the piss'.

Cut to the van...band jump out and look around.
Billy - Get the contract out. What does it say?
George (reading contract on bonnet of van) - I, Gregor MacLeod, hereby agree that White...blah blah blah...forty five minute set...blah...expenses only...on stage at 6pm...Claggan Park, Fort William.
Gordon - What...?
Jim - This is not Claggan Park, Fort William, this is Clachan Park, Inverness.
The band have their head in their hands.
Billy - We're on stage in less than an hour. Back in the van!
Cut to screen saying Inverness to Fort William 64m, journey time...1hr 16m...showtime 45 mins.

Cut to van breaking speed limits. Gordon driving, Billy and George sit in passenger seats while Jim and Deke are being thrown around in the back.
Shot of van hurtling arriving Fort William, the rain is relentless.
Narrator - 64 miles in 41 minutes, I hope we took the excess.
Jim - There it is! Claggan Park!
Van skids into the car park.
Narrator - Don't see many rock types around here. The crowd must be inside.
Cut to distant stage being battered by the elements, a handful of hardy souls brave the weather to stand in front of the band playing. Large crowd watches from hospitality tent.
Close up of White on stage, standing in pools of water. They are soaked and are about to play their last tune. Deke, wearing a plastic bag on his head to protect his quiff.
Deke - Isn't this dangerous?
Billy - No, this is fresh water, country rain. It's the city stuff that'll get you killed.
Jim - Anyway, the sun's coming out.
Narrator - And as the old adage goes, if you don't like the weather in Scotland, hang around a few minutes.
As the sun comes out and so do the concert goers, just in time for the last song.
Narrator - So pretty ladies, where are we staying tonight?
Cut to living room, early following morning. Band members dotted around room. Loud snoring.
Narrator - Zero for two lads. Must do better.

Cut to chubby rock fan opening the curtains.
Rock fan - Morning boys. Time for breakfast.
Jim (yawning) - Smells good mate.
Billy - Thanks man.
George (to band) - That's your proper highland hospitality at work.
Rock fan - No bother boys. I took a tenner out of your pocket while you were sleeping to pay for it.
Gordon - You're welcome.




Cut to band in van leaving Fort William. Screen says F.William to Aberdeen 159m, 3hrs 15m




Narrator (sings) - Ahhh berrr deeen deeen deeen ....push pineapple shake the tree, aberdeen deen deen, I really need some strong coffee. And a shower.




Gordon is driving the van and stops suddenly.
Gordon - Right, new rule of the road. No one takes their boots off in the van unless they have washed their feet and have clean socks. No exceptions.
Cut to back of van, grumbling band put boots back on.
Gordon - Better.
Cut to band entering the city of Aberdeen.
Narrator - Time to rock the granite city! But while Deke guards the gear, the rest of us go in search of some hot water.
George - Surely the main station has shower facilities?
George, Jim and Billy enter the station.
Gordon notices a Holiday Inn, stops in front of it then walks in.
Cut back to station toilets. The three band members take their tops off, then their boots and socks.
Narrator - No showers so it's a good old fashioned scrub in the sink.
Cut to Gordon walking the corridors, checking the doors. One is unlocked. He looks around then enters.
Cut back to station toilet, band are washing when a middle aged man enters. He casts his eyes over the semi naked bodies of the band then enters a cubicle. The band look at each other before going back to washing.
Cut to Gordon bathing in luxury, slugging back miniatures from the mini bar. An attractive middle aged lady walks into the bathroom.
Lady - Care to explain yourself, young man?
Gordon smiles and offers bottle to lady.
Cut back to station toilets. Grunts and groans are coming from the cubicle occupied by the middle aged man. Band stop washing.
Billy - He's not doing what I think he's doing?
The groans increase.
George boots the door open to find the man clutching his groin.
Jim - Dirty old bastard!
George - Hey mate, at least wait until we're gone before knocking one out.
Old man falls to the floor, still clutching.
Billy - You can stop now.
Cut to Ambulance crew and police questioning the band.
Narrator - The only thing hard about the old dude was his arteries. Best get back now...
Cut to end of gig, band head off stage and into the audience.
George - C'mon guys, let's make this count.
Billy - It's been a long season without rain.
Cut to nice flat, all five members of the band are lying on floor of the living room wrapped in curtains and blankets, snoring heavily.
Narrator - Oh, come on! At least the flat was nice this time. And we weren't robbed by a fat Whitesnake fan.




Cut to band in van.
George - Serious?
Gordon (driving) - God's honest truth.
Jim - So, what happened?
Gordon - The phone in the room went, she got out of the bath and took the call. Something about her husband taking ill in the station toilets...
Jim, Billy and George look at each other.
Narrator - So, if it's Monday it must be ...Wick!
Screen says Aberdeen to Wick 237m, 5 hours 56 mins
Narrator - The Royal Borough of Wick or to us lowland softies, the end of the world. OK, just the end of Britain. Almost as far north as you can go on the mainland, it also is renowned for having the world's shortest street, just six feet in length with one door. Slightly less known fact about Wick is that this was a town that goes absolutely tonto for rock. But first...

Cut to van finally arriving for soundcheck.

Billy - This must be the place...
Band gets out of van, a tired Gordon stretches.
Gordon - Hawl, you...c'mere!
George - What?
Gordon - If you think I'm spending the rest of my musical career being your chauffeur, think again. Learn to fucking drive.
Jim - No worries big man.
Jim, Deke and George walk around the back of the van out of hearing distance.
George - Aye right, ya miserable big sod.
Jim - What's so difficult about driving a van anyway?

George - It's a lead guitarist thing.
Deke (whispers) - How many lead guitarists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Jim - Dunno...
Deke - One. He holds the bulb and the world revolves around him.

The three of them laugh.
Gordon (shouts) - I heard that!

Narrator - Maybe I misjudged Deke...
Large man approaches...
Large man - You must be the band, then? I'm Dougal. Welcome to Wick.
The band exchange pleasantries with him before going inside.
Dougal (to equally large chargehand) - Callum, help these lads with their gear. We've been looking forward to this show. We don't get many rock bands visit our wee town. Have you come straight from Glasgow?
George - No, we played Aberdeen last night.
Dougal - Aberdeen? I bet those tight bastards didn't feed you. You must be hungry. We'll get you fed before you soundcheck.
Narrator - Going by what we've experienced so far, this could be costly.
The band take their seats at a table.
Dougal - OK, lads...what'll it be?
Band look sheepishly at each other.
George - How much is a plate of chips?
Dougal - Don't be silly laddie! This is steak country. And what kind of hosts would we be if we made you pay for your dinner?
Deke puts his hand up.
Deke - I'm vegetarian.
Dougal - I'll pretend I didn't hear that son. Callum!! Take the gun down, it's steaks for five.
Narrator - What the...?
Callum goes out into the field and the sound of a gunshot is heard. The band are sitting with their mouths agog.
Narrator - He didn't just...no, he wouldn't...
Dougal starts laughing.
Dougal - I bet you all think we shag sheep too. Good grief boys. You didn't think we actually shoot the cow then feed it to you? (laughs) We like do that for our lowland visitors to show them that we highlanders have a sense of humour. Shoot the gun, not shag the sheep that is.
Narrator - That clears things up.
Dougal - No, that one we'll serve tomorrow.




Cut to the band tucking into a feast of meat.




Narrator - What a place! And don't worry, Deke got a lovely fish dish. These guys really went out of their way to make us feel welcome. So, if it is rock that they want, then it is rock they shall have.




Cut to sweat drenched band on stage in front of very large crowd in a giant refurbished barn.

Narrator - Wick at that time had a population of about 6,000 and on that night, it felt as if most of the town was in that big old barn. What we didn't know was that the local radio station had been playing a tape of our songs for weeks. So, we played over three hours of music for them. Every song we had, a few extended jams and a whole host of covers. They just would not let us finish. Thirsty? Here's another beer. But it felt right to leave everything we had on stage. (cut to row of very excited females at the front of the stage) Well, almost everything...




Cut to next morning, George buttons up his shirt and walks into the kitchen. The girl he spent the night with is making breakfast.
Girl - Morning.
George - Morning.
They sit down at the table. They exchange nods but it's silence as they eat.
Narrator - Well...this is awkward.
Girl - Just to let you know, I don't normally do this kind of thing.
George - No problem. It was just a bit of fun, eh?
Girl - No, normally I only fuck women.
George chokes on a bit of his toast.
Girl - I was just wondering what cock was all about.
George coughs his food into his napkin.
George - Well, you seemed to enjoy it.
Girl - Hmm...I suppose.
Narrator - Thanks for the glowing recommendation.
Girl (sensing that she's hurt George's feelings) - Don't get me wrong. It was really...nice.
Narrator - Nice? I'm an all singing, all humpin' skinny hipped rock god! How was I to know you had shares in Birkenstock, love?
Girl - Sorry, it just doesn't feel the same with a man.
Narrator - I'll take your word for it.
Girl (Taking George's plate) - Would you like a bit more sausage, George?
Narrator - Now you're just being mean.




Cut back to bar. Band are returning to collect gear and van. They congregate at table with Dougal and Callum.
Gordon - Thanks for looking after the gear mate.
Dougal - No bother at all. So, did you all enjoy your visit to our wee town?
Billy - Best show we've had in ages.
The band agree.
Dougal - Would you lads like a bit of food before you go?
The band smile as Dougal orders 4 full breakfasts and a grapefruit.
Narrator - Listen, there's no shame in having another breakfast. Anyway, who knows when we'll eat again?
Callum (standing up) - Where are you headed to next?
Jim - Fort William. We've got a gig in a wine bar.
Dougal - Which one?
Narrator - You mean Fort William has more than one?
Deke - It's called MacLeods Wine Bar.
Narrator - Sounds classy, eh?
Callum and Dougal sit back down.
Dougal - Have you been paid yet?
George - No. Why?
Dougal - Let's just say that Mr MacLeod has a bit of a reputation around the highlands. Try to get your money before you play lads.
Narrator - Sound advice as it turns out.
Cut to saying goodbye to the Wick faithful. Screen says ... Wick to Fort William 200m, 4 hours 54 mins




Billy is driving the van as they make their way through the picturesque scenery.

Narrator - One more show to go before home.

Band pull up to fancy looking wine bar.

Narrator - I have to confess. I never liked wine bars.

Cut to arrogant chargehand showing band where to set up.

George - Any chance of an advance in lieu of the performance?

Chargehand - Not a chance. You can change in there. Stay out of sight until show time. And don't touch anything.

Narrator - I always believed that the people who dreamt up the concept of wine bars had delusions of evil, caused by listening to Dire Straits records backwards. And what did they do after the these fake, soulless gateways to Hades went bust? They started up the modern equivalent. The Irish theme bar. Now, no one in Ireland knows where the fuck they are because all the road signs are hanging on the walls in Irish theme bars. But MacLeod's wine bar was slightly different to the norm because at the half way point in our show...this happened.

Cut to band finishing song, lights go up. George takes the mike and is passed a card. He reads the script.

George - Would everyone form an orderly queue over on the left, my right? Pie, beans and chips will be served during the break. Make sure you have your ticket, one pie only per patron. We'll be back in 30 minutes.

Narrator - And this is what makes the Highlands so unique. I'd hazard a guess that in the wine bars of Manhattan or the West End of London, you'd have to pay separately for your pie, beans and chips. And the dressing room?

Cut to band sitting drinking beer, eating pie, beans and chips in the bar's kitchen. Billy spots a tray of frozen chicken breasts and empties them into a plastic bag before putting them in his equipment case. Gordon's eyes light up spots some vacuum packed steaks in a fridge. Even Deke is rifling through the pantry looking for quorn.

Narrator - And this is what's called the Highland Clearance.

The show ends, the bar closes and the band are clearing up their gear.

Narrator - Now we just have to collect £200, pass go, don't go to jail and head home.

Gordon approaches the chargehand.

Chargehand - Here's your money.

Gordon counts it. It's not what was agreed.

Gordon - This is £40 short.

Chargehand - That's what was left by Mr MacLeod. That's what you're getting.

Gordon takes his glasses off.

Narrator - Defcon 5! Defcon 5!

The rest of the band rush to restrain a clearly furious guitarist.

Gordon - We want our money. Where's MacLeod?

Chargehand - He's gone home for the night.

Billy - Then we'll go to his place for the money.

Chargehand (worried) - That's not a good idea. He doesn't like visitors.

Gordon - I don't like being ripped off.

Gordon picks up a discarded plate and throws it at the wall.

Narrator - So, now we're in a Highland standoff. Like the Mexican equivalent. Only colder. With chips and beans instead of guns.

George - We've got a contract.

Chargehand - You really don't know Mr MacLeod, do you?

Jim - His address is on it.

Billy - Let's go see him.

The van drives out of the town, into the country...

George looks at the map

George - It's around here somewhere.

Jim - There! That's it.

Billy - Let's go.

The van drives down the long driveway and approaches the large house. Dogs bark and strong lights are turned in the direction of the van. A man approaches the van.

Man - Turn the engine off! What do you want?

Gordon - We're here to see MacLeod.

Man - That's Mr MacLeod to you, boy.

Man looks around at the house and is given a sign to let the band through.

The van pulls up, and the band get out and approach the door.

A large man carrying a shotgun and holding the lead of an angry dog walks out of the front door.

Man - I'm MacLeod. Who the fuck are you?

Gordon - We're the band. You short changed us by £40.

Billy - We want our money.

George, Jim and Deke stand behind.

MacLeod (laughs) - 40 quid? You came to my house...MY HOUSE for 40 fucking quid?

MacLeod cocks the gun and points it at the band.

MacLeod - I shot a trespasser last week. Buried him in the woods. Might take a while but I'm sure we can dig a hole big enough for you lot.

Narrator - Nice knowing you. Sorry to bother you, Mr MacLeod.  Goodbye.

MacLeod - Now get the fuck off my land.

Cut to band in van as they approach the town.

Gordon is still angry.

Gordon - I can't believe we've been stiffed.

Narrator - I can't believe we survived!

Deke - Not a lot we can do I suppose. We're up a few quid anyway. We should just head back.

Billy - No, it's the principle.

George - Bill, we've got more than £40 worth of food in our bags. I agree with Deke. We should call it quits and go back to Glasgow with our heads still on our shoulders. We have run out of options.

Jim - Not quite.

The band turn to Jim and listen to his plan.

Jim - We have his signature on the original contract, right? Ok, who can replicate it on this piece of paper?

The band practice signing MacLeod's name. George's is the closest. Jim then writes 'Pay these fuckers £40' on the scrap with the fake signature on it.

Billy and Gordon agree that it might work. Deke and George are more concerned.

Gordon - You three stay here and watch the gear. Billy and I will sort this out. If you see MacLeod or his guys arrive, honk three times.

George - On the ceiling if you want me?

Narrator - Gallows humour? Fine. We'll stay here. Sitting targets. Has anyone got a spare diaper?

Billy and Gordon leave the van and are let into the bar by a large doorman.

Jim, Deke and George remain in the van, petrified.

Narrator - The next few minutes felt like hours. Every scenario was running through our minds.

Cut to various scenes of torture, violence, tickling...

Narrator - Until...

Jim - Look!

Gordon and Billy emerge from the door. They get into the van.

The doorman looks over at the van and indicates for them to wait a minute.

George - How did it go?

Gordon - Ready Billy? Guys, hold on tight to something.

Billy nods and turns the engine on.

Gordon - Drive!!!

The van speeds off as the doorman and chargehand rush into the street.

Jim, Deke and George go sprawling.

George - What happened?

Jim - Did it work?

Gordon turns round with £40 in his hand.

Gordon - Well...

Cut back to Gordon and Billy arriving at bar.

Chargehand - What do you want?

Gordon - We want our £40.

Billy - Here you go. Straight from Mr MacLeod.

Billy hands over the note.

Chargehand (surprised) - You actually went out to Mr MacLeod's place?

Gordon - Yeah. Nice dog.

Billy - And nice shotgun.

Chargehand - I told you he doesn't like to be disturbed.

The chargehand goes to the till and removes the money.

Gordon counts it.

Chargehand - I...I...I'll just give him a call to confirm.

Gordon - Good luck with that.

Billy - Yeah. He wasn't happy with us waking him up. But he'll understand if you do it, I'm sure.

Gordon - We'll wait in the van.

Chargehand makes the call.

Cut to slow motion scene of Billy and Gordon walking out past the doorman as MacLeod's phone rings.

Cut to MacLeod screaming at phone, chargehand visibly stunned shouts out to doorman who indicates to van to wait a minute. Van pulls off as sprinting chargehand reaches doorman and they vainly attempt to give chase on foot.

Screen shows Fort William to Glasgow 102 mi, 2 hours 7 mins

Narrator - 2hrs 7 mins? I reckon we shaved an hour off that!

Cut to van speeding away through the highlands. The mood of the band is buoyant.

Deke (voiceover) - What's the difference between the Rolling Stones and a highland farmer? The Rolling Stones say 'Hey you, get off of my Cloud!' and the highland farmer says 'Hey MacLeod, get off of my ewe!'

The band cracks up.

Narrator - And so endeth our mini tour of the Highlands. We didn't meet immortals or fight a Kurgan but we helped the aged in Aberdeen, had the piss ripped out of us by a cheeky old sod in Inverness and in Wick, we rocked like demons, ate like kings and turned a girl off cock for life. Plus, we were up a few quid. All in all, not a bad tour.

Cut to Billy dropping off each member at their house.

Gordon (voiceover) - Reconvene at Billy's tomorrow at 2pm for debrief, split of booty and Highway to Heaven.

Deke (voiceover) - I love Highway to Heaven.

Narrator - Welcome to the band, Deke.




End.