Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Episode 11 - Satellites
By George Paterson
Opens in the flat. Devon is in conversation with the band.
Gordon - A Drum machine?
Billy - You want us to go out...
George - With a drum machine?
Devon - Why not?
Gordon - It's ...err...it's just...it's..
Billy - I'm a bass player and this...is not a drummer. It has no soul.
Devon - Gigging without a drummer isn't such a big deal. It's not as if you'd be going out without a singer. It's not like Queen touring without Freddie Mercury....or INXS going out without Michael Hutchence.
The band laugh.
Narrator - Now you're being silly.
Devon - That would never happen. But you and a drum machine? One gig? Hotel included? £250 in your pocket? (holds contract) Quality rock venue with top flight PA? Make new fans? No big deal.
Narrator - We'll see. And before you forget, we don't have a keyboard player either. What is it with this band and the high turnover of staff? Deep Purple had 14 members. Black Sabbath has had 27 pass through their ranks! We're well on the way to topping those guys and I'm still a few weeks short of my 20th birthday.
George - Where is this gig?
Devon - That's what I wanted to tell you. Lads, get your passports ready...you're going to England!
The band look at Devon without enthusiasm.
Cut to rehearsal, band playing alongside machine.
Narrator - Gordon programmed it pretty well but...
The band stop. George presses stop on the drum machine.
George - Well?
Billy - I don't like it. It has no soul.
Narrator - Phil Collins has no soul either and he's doing OK.
Gordon - Granted, it is weird. But it's £250 for 45 minutes...
Narrator - Ever the pragmatist.
George - I suppose we could try it?
Billy - Well, we do have a roadie now...
Gordon - Let's go to Narnia. We've a hobbit to locate.
George - What do you mean? Hobbits aren't from Narnia...
Narrator - This one is.
Cut to Narnia Studios. Jimmy the moose is sitting in a battered leather chair, clearly still stoned.
George - So, Jimmy, you remember our deal?
Jimmy - Sure I do. Absolutely.
Billy - So, can you make it on Friday?
Jimmy - For what? Is it a party?
George - It's a gig.
Jimmy - Great! Who's playing?
Billy - We are.
Jimmy - You're in a band?
Gordon - Jesus fucking wept.
George - You've seen us play.
Jimmy - Ahhh....that's right. Yeah....You guys are good, you should play some gigs.
Gordon - Thanks. So, can you make Friday?
Jimmy - No, I'm sure I've got something on. A gig, I think.
Billy - With who?
Jimmy - What?
George - What do you have on?
Jimmy (baffled) - T-shirt, jeans...
Gordon (getting more angry) - No, what do you have on on Friday?
Jimmy (Pulling his t-shirt) - Not sure man, probably still this.
Narrator - This continued for another 17 minutes before the penny dropped, he remembered our deal and agreed to drive us to Carlisle, rock city and venue for our first ever English gig. And more than that, he promised not to behave like a one man golden triangle.
Cut to band walking out of Studios. Billy is still unhappy about the drum machine.
Gordon - It's only Carlisle.
George - But we're travelling in style,
George and Gordon (together) ...walking in a winter wonderland!
George and Gordon (together) ...walking in a winter wonderland!
Billy (growls) - Hmmm...
Cut to Jimmy's van crossing the border, the band shout 'Booooo!!!' as they leave Scotland. The band arrive at the venue and go to set up.
Jimmy is slightly edgy due to a rare case of sobriety but delighted with the lack of a drummer and keyboard player. Less for him to carry.
Jimmy (shouts at bemused mother with pram) - Carlisle, are you ready to Rock?
Cut to the stage, band soundcheck. The band are struggling to make themselves heard through the tiny sound system.
Narrator - This is not a PA. This is a home entertainment system for an Ewok's studio apartment. But in local terms, this is state of the art. Compared to the cosmopolitan gothic of our now upwardly mobile home town, 1980's Carlisle is the back of beyond. There is a big Camel following here, if you know what I mean so we might just get away with this.
Cut to showtime. The bar is full of rowdy rugby types. There are no females present.
Narrator - Shit. This is not good. We need women. They are our core demographic.
Cut back to rowdy horseplay in the bar.
Narrator - In the future, gay men with a rugged appearance are called Bears. They are free to express their sexuality in whatever way suits them. Back in the 80's, if guys like this (cut to more horseplay) wanted to be among fellow roughhouse men, what better place to be than a rugby club? I mean, it's a pursuit where half the time, your head is rammed up the rear end of another dude. Perfect for homoerotic cuddling! I played rugby once...
Cut to schooldays...George is small, very skinny with big hair and is covered in mud. The ball is thrown to him. He catches it before cowering as five large lads run towards him like charging rhino.
Narrator - It didn't end well.
Cut to Band peering out from behind curtain.
Gordon (psyched up) - No guts, no glory...
George (whispers) - No chance of escape?
The band are announced to minimal applause.
George - Good evening Carlisle!!!!!
1st Loud male - Look! He's wearing make up!
George - At least I don't have teeth like a witch doctors necklace, you prick.
Gordon (to Billy) - They grow up so fast...
2nd Loud male - Where's the drummer?
George - He's in the van, shagging your frustrated bird. This song's called Breezy!
Gordon starts the drum machine but the machine feeds back badly causing the crowd to recoil.
George - Just having a few technical problems.
1st Loud male - I could do better than this.
George - I don't come to your work and tell you how to sweep up, do I? Shut it you fat mentalist.
1st Loud male - I'm not mental, I'm schizophrenic.
George - Well, both of you can fuck off.
Gordon (to George and Billy) - Something wrong with that song. Let's move to the next song.
Gordon loads song 2 as the crowd grows restless. Unfortunately, the machine emits more high frequency noises. The band look at the soundman who is as baffled as they are.
The crowd start booing.
Billy takes the lead out of his bass guitar and walks off, furious.
George looks at Gordon and the place Billy was standing.
Narrator - So much for making new fans...
George looks at the crowd in shock before following Billy off, leaving Gordon on stage on his own.
Gordon looks at the crowd, smiles and says...
Gordon - Who's up for a 45 minute guitar solo?
To the sound of bottles crashing down on the stage, Gordon appears backstage from behind the curtain.
Gordon - Don't suppose we got the money up front?
Billy and George look at him.
Jimmy arrives.
Jimmy - Wow, that was quick. Time flies when you're having fun, eh? So, how did it go guys? Did you rock the English?
Bar manager comes back stage.
Bar Manager - What the fuck was that?
Billy (leaps to feet, grabbing the manager) - Call that a fucking sound system? Very unprofessional.
Gordon (polite) - It was not what was stated in the contract, was it? I'm sure the Musicians Union would be interested to know about that. Bye bye licence and all that.
The Bar Manager sizes up his quandry.
Bar Manager - Here's a £100, now fuck off back to Scotland!
Narrator - Ironic thing is that we weren't even in the Musicians Union. We were fully paid up members of the Totally Spawny Bastard Chancers Guild though.
George - Pleasure doing business with you.
Jimmy (quietly to band) - Do we still get to keep the hotel room?
Narrator - So, we played approximately 15 seconds of what Lou Reed might describe as an abominable fucking racket, slagged off a couple of muddy gropesters and were paid handsomely for doing so. Quick 100 mile dash home to Glasgow, regroup at Nico's for a beer or 20 and a chance to dole out some fraternal advice to a lad in need.
Cut to Nico's.
Brian, Donny and Andy are drinking as George, Gordon and Billy arrive. Jimmy and Thumbheid look at each other suspiciously.
Donny - How was it in the land of the English?
Billy - Frustrating.
George - Interesting.
Gordon - Lucrative. Drinks, Gentlemen?
Andy takes Brian and George aside.
Andy - Can I have a word? In private?
Brian and George look intrigued.
Brian - What's up?
Andy - Earlier, I was walking through town when this guy stopped me and asked if I wanted to go to a party.
George - Continue...
Andy - I asked him where the party was and he said, 'In my Y fronts'.
George and Brian stifle their sniggers but Andy remains serious.
George - So, what did you do?
Andy - I was really scared, so I said no thanks and tried to run. Then he offered me money. £10 to go down the lane with him.
Brian (suddenly more interested) - Really?
Andy - I just wanted to get away. I was shiteing myself. Should I have called the police? What should I have done?
George and Brian look at each other.
George - You should have taken the tenner.
Andy (shocked) - Whh....what?
Brian - Definitely.
George - Why didn't you wait until he had his strides down...
Brian - Aye...and booted him in the balls.
George - And then taken his money.
Brian (shakes his head) - A tenner...you could have got the beers in...
George - Not to mention a cushion!
Andy looks horrified and retreats back to his seat as Brian and George laugh.
Narrator - Somehow, I don't think this was the comforting arm around the shoulder he was expecting. But what is becoming of me? Heckler baiting, substance abusing, advocate of violent robbery, albeit of a sexual predator. This is not what I expected to become. I saw myself more like...
Cut to fantasy press conference...
George sits at the table fielding questions, suntanned, with a ridiculous mid atlantic accent, wearing shades. He introduces a bemused middle aged Apurina woman...
George - This is Npopo. I, sponsored by my friends at Visa and Pepsi, have decided to adopt her and her entire tribe to prevent their way of life being corrupted by the material west. While they join the band on the road (cut to Gordon and Billy standing in the wings shaking their heads) we plan to turn her jungle into the Protect the International Small Holdings...or PISH for short. In the meantime, here's Kool and the Gang to explain how that will work.
Narrator - That's where I truly see myself. As a virtuous and benign god of rock. Despite this incident still troubling Andy decades later, he graciously forgave my lack of sensitivity.
Cut to Devon getting George's attention.
George (sarcastically) - So, how was Carlisle, George? Did it meet your usual high standards, George?
Devon - Never mind that. I've got some people I want you to meet.
Devon brings George over to a table. Billy and Gordon are already there. Facing them are two people he doesn't recognise. The male is gangly, edgy and bald, the female is squat, serious and black.
Devon (to the couple) - And this is the singer, George.
Male - Hi, I'm James Dean.
George - Yeah and I'm George Best.
James - This is my wife, Pearl.
Narrator - You have got to be fucking kidding! Pearl....Pearl Dean??? Does she come with her own theme tune?
Devon - James and Pearl are the creative directors of Clyde Broadcasting Services.
Narrator - James Dean? CBS? Is this Candid fucking Camera? Where's Jeremy Beadle?
James - And we like what you guys do. You have such strong auras.
Pearl waves her hand across the foreheads of the bemused band.
James - What we'd like to do is film you and to begin with, show your videos on local cable channels. Then, if it all works as we think it will, MTV.
Narrator - That wouldn't be Milngavie TeleVision by any chance?
James - We've story boarded two of your songs and will be ready to shoot by next weekend.
Gordon - What's the catch?
Devon draws Gordon daggers.
James - There's no catch. Just an contract to continue filming you, at a pre agreed price (nods to Devon who acknowledges), once you get signed.
Pearl (very deep voice) - It's a partnership.
Billy - Can we see the ideas you have?
Devon - All in good time, bold yin.
James - So, we have a deal?
The band look at each other.
Narrator - I have my reservations but ...I want my MTV! Maybe being successful video stars will help us find a drummer...
Cut to both bands leaving Nico's.
George - Where to now, botons?
Brian - Working in the morning.
Donny - Gig in the Venue...I know the band AND the doorman, free entry, willing chicks and cheap hooch.
Billy - Sold!
Gordon - Lead on MacDuff! We still have some English pounds to spend.
Cut to party entering the gig. The band playing has just finished a song to mild applause.
Singer - Thanks. We're Rascal Houdi and this is our last song for the night. In fact, it's our last song ever. Rascal Houdi are no more (crowd makes sympathetic groan) Grieve not, good people. We've had a blast! One two three four!!!!!!!
Donny rocks out as George, Billy and Gordon watch the band, and the drummer in particular, with interest.
Narrator - He's not bad. Not an ear splitting Bonham copyist, nor a showy tickle merchant. Just an easy, funky, languid style. Not bad at all actually.
Cut to band having a beer and talking to drummer after the show.
Narrator - Looks like I wasn't the only one to think that. Say hello to John 'Slippy' Slater. OK, he has a day job and he's not as 'on the edge' as Meltin' John, as cool as Mondo or as...unbelievably young as Jim but one of the reasons he fit so well with us was his total lack of ego. I've long since come to the conclusion that every band can only tolerate a set amount of ego, roughly 75% maximum. Any more than that and the equilibrium tilts towards something like Bono fronting the Eagles. And that does not make for good listening. No, Slippy was the right guy, in the right place, at the right time and his easy going disposition was just what we needed. And we'd never have found him if we hadn't fucked up south of the border, down Cumbria way. Sometimes the pieces just fall into place. Now, we need to get ready for some close ups...
Cut to Studio of Clyde Broadcasting Services. A pretty, petite assistant shows George and Gordon into James office where they see the storyboard ideas for the first time. George is flirting with the assistant as James explains what will happen to Gordon.
Gordon - Hang on, run that past me again...
Cut to Devon's flat. Pearl Dean oversees the 'make up' of Billy, who is seen only from the back.
Cut back to the Studio.
James - Gentlemen, time to put your trust in me. (shouts to assistant) Can I have the costumes...now!
Cut back to flat.
Pearl - We're ready.
Billy - Is the car here?
Pearl - No, you're not going by car. It's just around the corner actually. We make sure all of the money stays on the screen. Take a look...
Billy goes to the mirror.
Billy - Fucking hell...
Pearl - Incredible isn't it?
Cut to back view of Billy's back walking down the road. Funky music plays (sounds like Bee Gees - Staying Alive). People pass him by with a mixture of shock and horror. The camera follows him until he arrives at the studio, pans up behind him to see a large paper bag on his head. Billy walks into the film studio and removes the bag from his head.
James - Positions please!
Cuts to Gordon wearing tight bondage t-shirt and trousers with his hair slicked back.
Gordon - This is humiliating.
Cuts to George wearing an ill fitting superhero costume.
George - It could be worse.
James (taking George and Gordons hands) - Let's take a moment to contemplate what we are about to achieve here...Oh, powerful forces of nature...we offer you our thanks for blessing us with such a potent vision...
Cuts to Billy who is dressed as the Devil, looking out of the window of a large Wendy House with a poorly drawn psychedelic design on his face.
Billy - Devon's a dead man.
Cut to Nico's. Gordon's hair is unruly, George is still wearing a cape and Billy is trying to clean off the make up.
Gordon (to Billy) - Missed a bit there.
George - Rock and Roll, eh?
Volume on TV in bar is turned up catching the bands attention.
Narrator - And just when we thought it couldn't get any worse...
George - That's not...is it?
Billy - Nah, can't be...
Cut to TV screen and Softly Softly are playing their new song. They have a rockier new image which looks rather familiar.
Gordon - Sons of a fucking...
Voice from behind the band - Bitches????
The band look around to see Softly Softly's manager, Campbell Baxter, standing at the bar with the remote control.
Baxter (points to TV) - Constant rotation on every music channel. Something you can only dream of. It's a good look, eh?
George - It's our look.
Billy - And our sound.
Baxter - Didn't want to see a good angle wasted on a pub band.
Gordon takes one of the chains off his bondage trousers and launches it toward Baxter, narrowly missing his head.
Baxter - (shaken) You...you'll be hearing from my briefs.
Billy - I think you might want to change your briefs, Two Soups.
Baxter leaves and the band look at the TV in disbelief.
George - That's what a video should look like. Cars, beaches, sunshine, girls...
Billy - Shudder to think what our next one's going to be like.
Gordon - Fuck it, I'm not doing this again.
George - We did sign a contract...
Narrator - Live by the sword...
Cut to a convoy of cars driving through the Scottish countryside.
Narrator - Have I ever told you how much I detest the great outdoors? Especially in windswept, pissing wet Scotland. Hate it with a passion. And take a wild fucking guess where video number two is being shot? Right on the money.
James instructs the crew to set up near a large lake.
James - Is the boat ready?
Narrator - Boat? What boat?
A crew member unties a rope holding a very small row boat to its moorings.
George - That'll never take the three of us.
James - No, the boat is for you.
George - And the others?
James - We're filming them under that tree.
Gordon and Billy start laughing before singing 'Row, row, row your boat...'
Narrator - Cheers boys.
George gets into the rickety boat and the petite assistant hands him a guitar.
Assistant - Don't worry, it'll look great.
George (to James) - So, what now.
James - See that rock out on the lake? Well, that's where you're going to be. Once you're in position, give us the nod and we'll run playback.
George - Fuck that!
James - You must trust our vision! Please leave any negative thoughts on the shore. Be at one with the environment.
George - Listen, I've seen Jaws. There better be nothing out there...
Billy - Don't quote me but I'm pretty sure that Great Whites didn't make it to Loch Lomond.
George - But I'm not a great swimmer.
Gordon - Better make sure you don't fall out of the boat, then.
George's boat is kicked out into lake and he begins to row to the rock. James and Pearl start giving thanks again. George is cursing everyone and everything as the rain starts to fall.
George - Fucking new age, satellite space bollocks....bastards....wankers!
The boat gets to the rock and a drenched George clambers onto it as his row boat drifts away.
George (shouts) - OK, I'm ready.
James - Playback...action!
George starts miming song.
Narrator - So, now you know why I hate the outdoors. But if there's one thing I detest more...
A couple of very large and aggressive seagulls begin to fly around the rock, getting very close to George.
George (to seagulls) - Fuck off, this is my rock. You air, me rock.
Billy - Look, it's Dr Doolittle...he talks to the animals.
George - Beat it, you stupid bastards!
Gordon - I'm sure that he said he wanted to get into rock music to meet birds.
The birds start pecking at George's head.
George - Aaaarrgghhh! Get them off me!
James - Cut!!! Will someone get a boat out there and sort this out?
Assistant - Eh...there only was one boat.
Cut to George standing on the rock, swinging his guitar at the seagulls.
Cut back to crew and band standing at the edge of the lake. They wince as the thud of an acoustic guitar makes contact with a bird.
Narrator - They say that all publicity is good publicity. I'd seriously dispute that maxim.
Cut to Police and Park Rangers talking to James as George is put into the back of a squad car.
Gordon and Billy watch the proceedings from the shelter of a large tree.
Gordon - He didn't need to shout 'shotgun' as they dragged him into the car. That wasn't helping matters.
Billy - I thought 'you'll never take me alive copper' was the real low point.
Cut to Nico's. George is sitting in a booth with James's assistant, nursing a beer and his wounds, watching Softly Softly rock out on the TV screen.
Donny and Brian arrive carrying newspapers.
Donny (slapping down a copy of the days news) - Well, if it isn't the notorious Loch Lomond Seagull Slaughterer?
George - Don't.
Brian - How's your head?
George - Still sore.
Brian - Nice picture though.
George looks at the picture.
Donny - What did your Mum say?
George - I'm too scared to call her. She'll be in the chapel praying for my eternal soul.
Brian - And lighting candles for the poor seagull.
They laugh. Gordon and Billy arrive with Slippy.
Slippy - How's things?
George - Could be better.
Slippy - Another beer?
George nods.
Devon arrives with Myra.
George - I want a fucking word with you.
Gordon - We all want a fucking word with you.
Devon - Fine but before you line up to beat me with a big stick...or in George's case, a big guitar, I've got some news.
Billy - This better be good.
Devon - How do you fancy another wee trip to England?
George - Somehow, I don't think we'd be welcome back in Carlisle.
Myra - Forget Carlisle. How about a week of recording in a top studio in London at the end of the month?
Devon - The session being produced by a world famous engineer that my cousin and I have just brokered a deal with? No expense spared?
Gordon - I'm listening.
Narrator - Remember what I said about publicity earlier? Scrap it. We're on Radio Clyde tomorrow, Radio Scotland the day after and have a video interview on a cable show to start my birthday weekend. And a trip to the big smoke? My ship must be coming in, for want of a more judicious phrase. Hang on...Andy?
Young Andy from the Molotovs runs into Nico's, catches his breath before looking out of the window nervously. He approaches the table everyone's sitting at. Intensely, he holds up a crisp £20 note in front of Brian, then George. Andy slaps the money down on the table.
Andy - Get the beers in. And get me a cushion.
End.
© George Paterson 2012
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