Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Episode 12 - London Calling (parts 1&2)
By George Paterson
Opens with the band, replete with new drummer, leaving the stage after a successful gig
.
Narrator - With apologies to Henry James, under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable than the time dedicated to the ceremony known as rocking the fuck out. So, Slippy seems to be settling in nicely. He won't be going to London next week though. Day job responsibilities. Well, someone has to pay for us unemployed layabouts to party every day.
Devon - Right, which one of you cunts wants to earn some easy money?
Gordon - In my experience, as far as you're concerned, there is no such thing. So, respectfully, up yer Ronson. Club time! Who's with me?
Narrator - Ordinarily, this would be the point where I'd be heading into town to meet my adoring public, clutching my ill gotten gains and my purple headed protein dispenser, sharing my salty yoghurt like I was running a promotion in a shopping mall. Not tonight though.
George - Sorry guys, an evening with the lovely Iona awaits.
Gordon and Slippy tease George.
Gordon and Slippy - Ooohhh!!! Ioooooonaaaa!!!
George (smiling, unbothered) - Tomorrow, wanks!
Devon - Billy will be up for it, won't you bold yin?
Billy - Nah...the club sounds good to me.
Devon - C'mon Billy. All you have to do is follow me to the airport, pick up a case and bring it back to the flat. Easiest £100 you'll ever make.
Billy - Hmmm...
Cut to next day, inside Devon's flat. A dense fog permeates the air. Gordon and George are walking up the stairs to the flat.
George (sniffs) - Is that what I think it is?
Gordon - It sure as shit ain't soup.
They get to the door and as it's unlocked, they enter the flat. Covering their mouths, they find Billy sitting on the sofa head back, wearing shades. Gordon and George take a seat either side of him, wafting the air clear. There is a considerable pause...
Billy (slowly) - I have £100.
George - Good for you, mate. What happened?
Billy (looking closely at a note) - Walter Scott's been looking at me...
Gordon - That's nice.
Billy - ...with his sacrificial bog man eyes. I know a guy called Walter and I know a guy called Scott. If I got them together, put them in the same room, do you think...maybe they could write another Ivanhoe? (bellows) Ivanhoe!!! Funnily enough, I know a guy called Ivan. And we all know a few ho.... (pause) Do you have any donuts? I could murder a glazed French Cruller...
Gordon (slightly patronising) - We'll get some later William. Now, we're all sitting comfortably, shall we begin?
Flashback to Devon and Billy shuffling around at the arrivals gate at the airport. The last few passengers of the night are leaving the terminal building. A suited businessman is the very last person off the flight and he's pushing a trolley with a large suitcase on board.
Devon - This is the guy. Stay cool.
Devon approaches the man but just as he's about to make contact, the man keeps walking straight past.
Billy - Are you sure that's him?
Devon (puzzled) - I think so...
The man stops, looks around then heads towards the car park.
Devon and Billy decide to follow him. The man stops by a vending machine in a dark corner of the terminal.
Devon and Billy look at each other before Billy urges Devon to approach him again. Devon stands behind him, as if queuing for the machine.
The man reaches down to the coin return slot, opens it and leaves a small key in it. He turns, nods at Devon and walks away, leaving the trolley and case.
Devon takes the key.
Cut to Devon and Billy at the car attempting and failing to lift the case into the trunk.
Devon - On three...onetwothree!
Billy - Sweet Jesus! How much is in there?
Devon - More than enough. Fuck it, put it on the back seat.
The case is dragged into the back seat of the car and the two stand almost breathless at the exertion.
Devon - OK, take this to the flat and start breaking it down.
Billy - You've got to be fucking kidding?
Devon - Look, here's your £100. There will be more. I'll call you...
Cut to outside of a block of flats. Billy gets out of the car and searches his pockets for his door keys but as he does, the car door shuts, locking the case in and Billy out.
Billy tries to get into car with no joy. He's getting agitated as he attempts to gain entry by every means possible.
Billy - For fuck sake!! Open ya bastard.
Billy shakes the door violently. A large police officer approaches.
Officer - Do you need any help, son?
Billy (whispers) - Shite!
Officer - Excuse me?
Billy (evasive) - Nothing. I've just locked my keys in the car. But it's alright, officer. I'll get it later.
Officer - Don't be silly. We'll get it open in no time.
Billy - Honest officer, don't worry, I'll get it in the morning.
Officer - Don't you want me to help you? You're not trying to hide something? (looks at Billy intensely)
Billy - Errr.....I...errr...
Officer (laughs) - Just pulling your leg, son. Almost there.
The Policeman manages to get the door opened.
Officer - There you go!
Billy - Thanks...goodbye then.
The officer spots a large suitcase on the back seat.
Officer - Been on holiday?
Billy - Eh....yeah.
Officer spots the 'Air Jamaica' sticker on the case.
Officer (affects ridiculous accent) - Ahh...the West Indies maaaann!
Billy spots the sticker.
Billy - Yeah...Jamaica...I was in Jamaica.
Officer peers at Billy, shining a flash light in his face for a closer look.
Officer - Where's your sun tan?
Billy - Errr...I was sick.
Officer - Sick?
Billy - Two weeks, in my bed. Then straight home. Bummer, eh?
Officer - No luck.
Billy grabs the suitcase, forgetting how heavy it is.
Officer - Here...let me give you a hand...
Billy - No! It's alright.
Officer - By the way, what was up with you?
Billy - Eh...I had a disease.
Billy spots a newspaper in the footwell.
Billy (looks up) - Creutzfeld-Jakobs Disease...???
Officer - Really?
Billy - Yeah. It was really bad but now I'm cured. Phew!
Officer (suspicious) - Really? You don't mind if I take a look...
There is shouting from across the street at the kebab shop.
Bystander - He's got a knife....help!!!
Officer - Stay right there son, I'll be back in a minute.
Officer runs across the road and is caught up in the melee. Billy seizes his chance and the case, runs around the corner and into the front door of his block.
Cuts back to Billy on the couch describing what happened next. Gordon and George are now eating brownies, listening intently.
Billy - So, then...
Fast paced montage of Billy trying to break the large slabs up, receiving a call from Devon, putting it in the oven, melting the plastic wrappers, Billy panicking, Billy shouting on phone to Devon, removing the wrappers, taking the slabs out before cutting them into small briquettes.
Billy - And here we are...
Looks at George and Gordon who - in a narcotic haze - are both fast asleep.
Billy - ...time to start work.
Narrator - Once we awoke, from some of the most vivid dreams I can recall, I hasten to add...
Cut to a giant rabbit singing 'Holding back the Years' with Timmy Mallet crying in the front row.
Narrator - ...it was time to pack for London.
Cut to band getting their gear ready. Devon takes Billy aside
.
Devon (whispers) - By the way, I need you to drive the car to London.
Billy - No chance. I've done my bit. I'm going with the band.
Devon (exasperated) - Fucking hell. Right, another ton.
Billy - Are we carrying...eh...cargo?
Devon nods.
Billy - Two hundred.
Devon closes his eyes in contemplation.
Devon - Right lads, Billy will take the car with me.
Billy (whispers) - Up front.
Devon growls.
Devon - You two will be travelling in style...(doorbell rings) ... and that'll be your ride.
Narrator - Oh, the glamour, jetting into London, picked up by a limo and taken to...
Door opens...
Gordon - Oh come on!
Jimmy the Moose awaits.
Jimmy - Alright boys?
Devon hands Jimmy a large briquette.
Devon - As agreed.
Jimmy (looks at the briquette in awe) - Always a pleasure.
Devon - Just drive safe.
Narrator - Rock death 101. Can't be killing off your singer and guitarist before they've made it.
Devon (to all parties) - We'll leave Glasgow tomorrow, so that we can get started first thing Monday. Billy and I will be staying with my cousin, Karl, here (hands them a post it note with address and phone number). George and Gordon, you're staying here (hands them another post it note)...with Karl's sister, Kimberly. And Kimberly's place is where we'll be having a little end of session party on Friday night.
George (whispers) - Is Kimberly that nutty artist you told me about?
Billy - One and the same.
Gordon - So, where are we recording?
Devon - This is the big one. We've managed to get 4 days with a top engineer and producer at a great studio.
George - Who? Steve Lillywhite at Air?
Billy - Brian Eno at Abbey Road?
Gordon - Knowing our luck it will be Joe Meek and Phil Spector at a shooting range.
George - Go on...who is it?
Devon - None other than Freddie Buttons.
The band look at each other in confusion.
George - Never heard of him.
Billy - Sounds like a fucking pantomime character.
Gordon (comically) - Oh no he doesn't!!
Billy and George - Oh yes he does!!
Devon (seriously) - You've never heard of Freddie Buttons? Junior Miller and the Sentinels? The Cosmic Way? The Trevor Berbick Experience?
The band look blankly at their manager.
Devon - I'm working with philistines.
Narrator - Seems that way but what we didn't know was that while Freddie Buttons may not have been the greatest producer in town but he was THE man if you wanted to be heard and seen on national radio and TV. The man played golf with Wogan, tennis with Cliff and badminton with George Michael. Wonder where he got the shuttlecock down the shorts idea? That's right. Freddie Buttons. He also taught the hirsute singer how to box. I think that's what Devon meant when he said that Freddie was round at the bearded bubbles house, battering him around the ring. Just young guns having some fun.
Cut to Billy and Devon checking to see if the coast is clear, before lifting a still heavy suitcase into the boot and getting into the car.
Billy - I should have been in the van with the boys.
Devon - Shut up and drive.
Narrator - Sometimes, the hands of fate are guiding you on your way…
Cut to Gordon and George waiting outside the latter’s flat as the sun starts to go down.
Narrator - And sometimes they're not.
Cut to young Andy holding phone out of window.
Andy - The moose says he's running late.
George - How late?
Narrator - Turns out...very late.
Gordon is very annoyed.
Gordon - I'm going to fucking kill that little hobbit bastard.
Cut to street outside the flat, it’s now night time.
.
George - Brrr. It's getting cold. I should've been on the beach in fucking Majorca right now.
Gordon - With Donny and Brian?
George nods
Gordon - Why didn't you go?
George - They didn't invite me.
Gordon (sympathetically) - Tough one.
George (shivers) - Throw me my jacket.
Gordon (looks at the jacket) - Nice. New?
George - Yes. Iona bought it for me. It was a goodbye present.
Gordon - What? I thought things were going well with you two?
George - They were. Until…
Cut to Iona's house, George's old leather jacket is on a chair. Iona's cat is sniffing around it. The cat climbs onto the chair and starts urinating on it. George speaks to Iona...
George - It's not doing what I think it's doing?
Cut back to the street.
George - So I said to her, 'It's the cat or me'.
Gordon - Ah well. At least you got a new leather out of it. What did you do with the old one?
George - I sold it for £20.
Gordon (laughs) - What stupid sod would buy a piss stained leather?
A small Volkswagen van turns up and Jimmy gets out, wearing George's old jacket.
Jimmy - Sorry...sorry...sorry!
Gordon - We're travelling in this? Where's the Mystery Machine?
Jimmy - Yeah...a slight upholstery emergency.
Cut to a stoned Jimmy cutting up his passenger seat to reline the jacket.
Jimmy - So, this is our van for the duration. Hey! Let's saddle up and ride this pony!
Narrator - Even by eighties standards, his brainless optimism was infectious. Not as much as his soiled jacket though. Fasten your seat belts kids, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.
George - London Calling!!!!
Gordon gets in the back, still annoyed.
Gordon - Wake me up when we arrive. And keep the fucking windows open.
Narrator - You'll miss all the fun. The borders, Metal Bridge, then the mystic town of Shugborough and that's us just over the border!
Jimmy sits ready to depart.
Jimmy - So, we've got everything?
George (looking in the back of van) - Looks like it. Gordon's already spark out so, let's go.
Jimmy - Right, just let me blaze up a Voyager.
George - What?
Jimmy takes a metal tin out of his bag. The tin contains four tightly packed joints each around 8 inches in length.
Jimmy - These my friend, are Voyagers. Herbal spacecraft. One for every hundred miles.
Narrator - You've got to be fucking kidding?
George - You've got to be fucking kidding?
Jimmy (serious) - This is the key to safe driving. I've read studies on it. 400 miles at high speed is ultra stressful without God's good herb, man. This will help us ease on down the road.
Cut to George looking concerned.
Narrator - And before you know it, the little bastard was higher than a pilot's lunchbox.
Cut to Jimmy, his large hands firmly gripping the wheel, staring into the black night ahead.
George - You do know that we are allowed to go at a speed that exceeds 15 miles per hour?
Cut to cars honking as they try to overtake the van.
Jimmy - Road rule one. Do not speak to the van captain whilst he's operating the drive function.
Narrator - Drive function? Van Captain? Oh, excuse me. I missed your promotion from lint to stoned road kill collector, past the relatively lowly position of roadie to driver, then captain. I do beg your pardon, you fucking space nugget.
Jimmy - Rule number two, the van captain is always right.
Narrator - Rule number three, you pay peanuts, you get a complete house plant driving you. But the night was still young...
Jimmy lights up another of his enormous joints.
George - One for every hundred miles you said.
Jimmy (looks at George) - I say a lot of things, my hairy young friend. 70% of what I say, I mean. And I mean about 63% of things that I say.
George - Ehh...Jimmy...shouldn't you look at the road about 100% of the time?
Jimmy - It truly is a night for love. The stars are very bright tonight.
George looks out of the window. It is foggy. He looks back at Jimmy, confused and a bit concerned.
Jimmy - Ursa Major, Ursa Minor....they're all there. Illuminating the way. This is no coincidence. Look!! There's Proxima Centauri!!!!!!
George - Where?
Jimmy - There! It's so beautiful.
George - I don't think it is...
Jimmy - Look again! It's so red...and white...
George - I'm pretty sure that's a Little Chef.
Jimmy - We've come a long way together. I'll never forget you.
A baffled George looks at the driver.
Jimmy - We should rest. Set up camp over there?
George - What the fuck are you talking about? We've only travelled 50 miles. In three hours.
Jimmy pulls in sharply to the service station.
Jimmy (shouts) - Break!!!!!!!!
Gordon stirs in the back.
Gordon (half asleep, shouts) - How are we doing?
George - We're doing good!
Jimmy looks frightened.
Jimmy - Who's there? I heard a voice from the back. There's someone in there.
George holds his head in his hands.
Jimmy looks at the roadsigns.
Jimmy - London is south, isn't it?
Narrator - Kill me now. Please.
Cut to van chugging along motorway slowly. Another shot of the van as the sun rises. George with his head half out of the window, gasping for air as Jimmy smokes continually
.
Jimmy looks in his tin and realises that he's smoked all four of his giant Voyagers
.
Jimmy (edgy) - Time to top up the tank.
Jimmy gets out of the van and walks up to the petrol pump.
Narrator - Jimmy's normal van, the Mystery Machine, takes petrol. Straightforward. But this wasn't the Mystery Machine.
Cut to Jimmy looking at the fuel cap on the van. Above it, it is clearly labelled 'Diesel'. He looks at the pump which is clearly labelled 'Petrol'. Cut to pump, the fuel cap then Jimmy's eyes, pump, cap and Jimmy's eyes again (with music from the Good, the Bad and the Ugly finale playing)...
Narrator - And the moose was too goosed to join the dots.
Jimmy puts the nozzle in and presses.
Cut to Gordon wakening up. He pulls back the curtains and climbs into the front seat, stretching.
Gordon (yawning) - What time is it?
George - Just gone 7am.
Gordon (looking around) - Where are we?
George (opens the door and steps out) - Now, don't get angry...
Gordon - Must be Luton? Or Watford Gap?
George - We're nearly there.
Gordon (calm but serious)- Where. Are. We?
George (sheepish) - Lancaster.
Narrator - The Italians call this moment, sciara del fuoco. The stream of fire. Stromboli time. At this point, it's best to get the hell out of the way.
Gordon roars causing Jimmy to snap out of his sonambulistic state. He now also realises his refuelling error.
Jimmy - Oh!
Gordon climbs out of the van and goes for Jimmy. George acts as a barrier between the apoplectic guitarist and the now sober but petrified driver.
Gordon - We've...no... you've been driving for 8 hours and we've barely made the half way point! We're supposed to be in the studio in an hour! Give me the keys. Give me the fucking keys!
Jimmy - You can't drive the van.
Gordon - Give me one good reason why?
Jimmy (standing beside a large Petrol sign) - Well, it seems....and you'll find this quite funny...this van...is a diesel van...
Cut to the service station food court. Diners are startled by a loud primal roar.
Cut back to George, still holding Gordon off.
George - Guys! We need to focus. We do not need this to attract the attention of the local federales, do we?
Narrator - Definitely not with Jimmy's considerable herbal cargo.
Cut to band pushing van to car park, Gordon getting the number of a local garage. George makes call to Billy at the studio.
Cut to Billy, wearing shades.
Billy - He did what?
George - I know, I know. So, looks like we'll miss the first day.
Billy - Don't worry, we're feeling our way around the studio.
George - Good. I was worried you guys would start without us. I can't wait to get into a heavy session.
Billy starts to giggle.
Cut to Billy putting the phone down. The camera pans back to find that the studio is immersed in a fog and that the whole recording crew is heavily partaking in Devon's goods
.
Cut back to the service station, Gordon, George and Jimmy are counting out their notes to pay the mechanic who has worked on the van.
Narrator - Two hours and £200 later, we're ready to roll. Jimmy is in detention, his contraband, confiscated. One good thing about Jimmy's puffing is that the overpowering smell of cat piss on the leather jacket has been usurped. London's still calling and I...
Cut to Gordon driving fast, George in the back of van sleeping and Jimmy rocking back and forth with his arms folded, clearly in a huff. Gordon scowls at him.
Narrator - ...need to get my head down.
Cut to studio, the fog is lifting and Billy and Devon are starting to stir.
Devon - We should go...now...
Billy looks around the studio at the still sprawled out techs.
Billy - That's a wrap, guys.
Cut to van heading into London.
Gordon - Where are we meeting? Jimmy? JIMMY!
Cut to Jimmy, almost in foetal position, gnawing his fingernails.
Jimmy (snaps) - I don't know! Ask Rip Van Wanker in the back.
The noise wakes George who pulls back the curtains. The vista is the grey M1 near Brent Cross.
George - Is this it?
Gordon - Where are we meeting them?
George - At a pub...Swiss Cottage, I think.
Gordon spots the sign for Swiss Cottage and swerves into the correct lane.
Gordon - I could murder a cold beer.
Narrator - Or twelve?
Cut to van navigating through the traffic.
Narrator - This is it. London. The big smoke?
Cut to Jimmy, head out of window in a desperate bid to breathe some toxicity.
.
Narrator - London, cultural centre of Europe. Home to jellied eels, pie and mash, Del and Rodney, Chas and Dave. Plates of meat, apples and pears and other indecipherable bollocks, this is where the action is. It might be 20 years after the summer of love but the spirit hasn't reached Glasgow yet. We are now in the manor of The Kinks, Michael Caine and err...Spandau Ballet. I can almost taste the first pint of warm London beer…
George - There it is!
Narrator - In a Swiss style chalet!
Cut to pub in centre of busy road. Billy and Devon acknowledge the van as it pulls into the car park.
Jimmy jumps out of the van and heads straight to the pub.
Devon - Finally!
George - Next time, don't pay him before the job! To the bar?
Billy - About that...
Gordon - What?
Cut to Jimmy frantically pulling at the entrance to the pub.
Devon - London pubs close in the afternoon.
Cut to George and Gordon screaming.
Cut to London in the evening, the sun going down over Primrose Hill...
Narrator - That was the final straw for the moose. He grabbed his bag, reclaimed the brick of destiny, went troppo and was last seen heading in the direction of Regent's Park. We settled down for a pre brief in the garden belonging to...
Devon - Cousin Karl!!!
Devon and Karl embrace.
Karl - You got my gear, right?
Devon nods.
Karl is small, white and balding but is dripping in gold and speaks in a heavily accented Jamaican patios. Karl puts out his knuckles for Billy to bump but confused by this, Billy grabs and shakes Karl's fist.
Karl - Whappening wiv the White bwoys? Y'knaw, dat name is gonna get you big trubs down 'ere. Is you racialists or sunk, innit?
Narrator - I do not understand a fucking word this guy is saying.
George - Sunk?
Karl - Yeah...sunk...(slowly) somfink!! Is you thick? We ain't gonna have no lingo problems wiv you sweaties, innit?
Gordon - Ignoring the double negative...nice to meet you too, Karl.
Karl - Yeah. Anyways, welcome to the crib... (slowly) my house.
Devon - So, Karl, when's Freddie arriving?
Karl - All de fruit is ripe. We start first light. Easy.
George - So, we'd better head over to Karl's sisters place.
Karl - Just don't eat nothing, speak to no one or touch anything...(threatening) y'understand?
Narrator - Whatever you say...nutter.
Cut to George and Gordon walking around an upmarket area in the dark.
George - I think it's around here.
Gordon - Trust you to leave the directions in the moose's glove compartment.
George - How was I to know he'd disappear? Ooohhh! This is nice.
Gordon - Way out of our league. What number house are we looking for?
George - It's definitely 85...
Gordon (stops) - I think I've just died.
In front of them is a mansion.
Gordon and George open the large wrought iron gates, unlock the front door and walk into the house.
George jumps on the couch and Gordon heads straight for the fridge.
George - Stick the kettle on! I'll look for the TV remote.
Gordon opens the fridge to find it filled with half empty glass milk bottles. He takes a bottle and sniffs at it.
Gordon - I think this milk is off.
George - There's a reason I can't find the remote. There's no fucking telly!
Gordon - Bummer. No booze either. Shall we do the tour?
George opens up the back doors.
George - Oh wow! A tree house! With a swing! Wow! Is that a...?
Gordon (impressed) - Oh yes! A hot tub! Might have to check that out tomorrow.
They enter a room that is clearly used as an artists studio. There are many paint splattered canvases scattered around the room. The two look at them, unimpressed.
George - I was expecting the art to be a bit more...
Gordon - Tit laden?
George (disappointed) - Yeah.
Gordon - May as well hit the hay. Early start tomorrow and all that.
George - Bags the big room!
He makes a dash for the staircase, Gordon rushes in pursuit, trying to trip up the singer.
Gordon stops at the top landing.
George - They're all big rooms!
Gordon - I could get used to this.
Cut to morning. A burst of sunlight hits George's eyes.
He makes out a silhouette of a woman opening the shutters.
George - Hello...are you Kimberly?
Woman - Don't speak.
George - Sorry?
Woman - I said don't speak. If you want your Sugar Puffs, you'll be a good boy and keep quiet.
The middle aged but still attractive woman approaches George. She is wearing a revealingly short, silk gown which is barely tied and is carrying a glass milk bottle.
She puts her hand under the duvet and grabs George.
Cut to the kitchen table, Gordon is eating from a bowl. George comes down the stairs and takes a seat opposite the guitarist.
George - Morning.
Gordon - Morning.
Silence.
George - What are you eating?
Gordon (sheepish) - Sugar Puffs.
The woman, now dressed walks into the kitchen and places the milk bottle in the fridge with the others. She gives George a bowl of Sugar Puffs then walks out of the house without saying a word.
Gordon passes a carton along the table to George.
Gordon - This is the milk.
Cut to studio, band are in place while technicians position equipment, ready for the session.
Narrator - Now that we've been fed, watered and...eh...milked, it was finally time to get to the serious business of recording some classic rock. Shouldn't be too difficult…
Devon (excited) - Shhh...guys, he's here!
Cousin Karl holds the door open for the producer, Freddie Buttons, tall, early 40's, White Zimbabwean, incredible white teeth. Freddie is dressed as if he was ready to play tennis.
Freddie - Do any of you guys know if I can hire a midget next Tuesday in Birmingham?
Karl - Don't be silly. These guys is from Scotland.
Narrator - Obviously, if one needed a dwarf in Dumfries, we'd be your men.
Devon - Is there a height limit? What if you're the worlds tallest midget?
Freddie - Where are my manners? Guys, it's a pleasure to meet you. I love your sound.
Freddie and the band are introduced.
Freddie - OK, we have three days in which to make magic.
Gordon - Three? We're here until Saturday.
Freddie - In my culture, Friday is the end of Period of Introspection. And as my sect is a more progressive one, we'll all be spending it in the Dome.
Billy - Is that your mosque?
Gordon - Temple?
George - Synagogue?
Freddie - No, it's a bar in Hampstead. So, let's get upset!!
Everyone looks at him.
Freddie - Sorry...let's get set up!
Narrator - And this was the man we chose to lead us out of bondage and into the promised land? Ai Caramba!!
Cut to montage of band laying down tracks, take after take
.
Narrator - And to be fair to old Fred, he worked us hard. Gordon must have recorded 20 guitar parts for each track. And his equipment?
Cut to Freddie showing the impressed band his array of sounds and beats.
Narrator - But after we worked, we played. Plus, we had time for a little sightseeing.
Cut to band entering numerous bars, clubs and strip joints, drinking and carousing around the streets of London.
Cut to friendly Police Officers politely reprimanding band in Soho.
Officer - I'm afraid the bartender was right, he is perfectly entitled to charge £10 for a half lager. But you really shouldn't have punched the doorman.
Gordon - Sorry.
Officer - And you, keep it in your trousers in future!
Billy - Sorry.
Officer - Ahhh....OK but don't do it again, you cheeky caledonian scamps!
Narrator - And getting used to the strange customs of the English took a bit of getting used to.
Cut to band being ejected from pub.
George - But...but....it's only 11 o'clock! And there are thirsty, honest men here, stout yeoman. It's a fucking travesty!
Narrator - But by Thursday morning, there was mutiny afoot.
Cut to cafe, band are having breakfast prior to session
.
Gordon - We've got one day left and for me, Freddie needs to be showing us something. Today. No more smoke and mirrors.
Billy - I agree that it's not the direction I thought the songs should go but he hasn't started mixing yet. Let's see how it turns out.
George - Fair enough. I have to admit, I like the string sounds. And the James Brown samples.
Gordon - They are great. If you want to sound like a soul singer with an orchestra.
Narrator - My secret identity...revealed!!
Gordon - But we are a rock band, right? We need to have our sound imprinted on this recording or the week has been a waste of time.
Billy and George agree.
Cut to studio. Freddie, dressed in cycling gear, is at the mixing desk.
Freddie - Something's missing.
Gordon (sarcastically) - Could it be guitar?
Devon draws him daggers.
Freddie - Devon, I've got an idea for another layer. A crucial component in my opinion but it might cost a bit.
Devon and Freddie have a conflab with Karl.
Devon - OK, we'll be back.
George - Where are you going? Can I come?
Karl - Biz niz, bruv. Not for likkle pansy boys like you.
George (getting angry) - Who are you calling a pansy boy, ya Ja-Fake-an wank?
Karl and George square up before Billy pulls them apart.
Freddie - Might be a good idea taking an extra body...you know, just in case.
Narrator - In case of what? I've got a face to protect here. Take one of those guys.
Freddie - Well, I need Gordon and Billy here for another few takes. Take George, he's done.
Narrator - Bollocks.
Karl (to George) - You crossed da line, bwoy.
Narrator - A man called Walter Bradford Cannon described this response as fight or flight. I really need to work harder on my shutting the fuck up and staying under the radar model.
Cut to Karl's soft top Audi driving through a less salubrious part of town. They arrive outside a modernist block.
Karl - OK, Devon give me the gear.
Devon gives him the wrapped bundle.
Karl - And that pack of donuts.
George passes the donuts to Devon.
Karl - And £200.
Devon (exasperated) - Who are we hiring? Mama fucking Cass?
Karl - Oiling the machine bruv, oiling the machine.
George goes to leave the car.
Karl - What you doin'? You stay here. Look after the wheels. And don't touch nuffin!
George smiles while giving Karl the finger.
Narrator - Don't touch nothing? Surely that means... touch everything?
Cut to George pulling a long piece of snot from his nose and putting it in his cassette deck. He giggles before a thought occurs. He then sticks his hand in his ass, smelling it before wiping it on the steering wheel, the drivers door handle and the gear stick. He then notices a kid holding a West Ham football who'd been watching the whole time.
George (putting on Cockney accent) - Up the 'ammers!
The kid runs off shouting for his mum.
Narrator - In the future, the kid steals my act and grows up to be a world famous, long haired bohemian comedian. Little did I know that this was his introduction to the glamorous world of showbiz. You're welcome, Russell.
Cut to Devon, Karl and a large, awkward, conservatively dressed black girl coming towards the car. Karl gives the car a quick look over.
Karl - You didn't touch nuffin'?
George (smiles) - That's right. I didn't touch nothing.
Karl - Just as well. Scootch over. This is Cilla. Black Cilla...
George says hi to the girl who is clearly very shy.
George - So, what do you do?
Cilla - I'm a singer.
Narrator - Here we go...
Cut to studio, an argument is brewing.
Gordon - We don't need this.
Billy - Gordon's right. This is sounding less and less like us.
Freddie - Don't panic. It's just another layer. And this girl has already sung on 12 top 5 records. You want to have your music heard by millions? Studies show that soulful backing singers enhance your chances by at least 28%.
Narrator - Studies also show that 87% of all statistics are made up on the spot?
Gordon - So, where is Billy?
A confused Freddie slowly points at Billy.
Gordon (snaps) - Not literally! On the track. Where is he on the track?
Freddie - Well, I have sampled Billy's bass and that is what you're hearing....ehhh...there!
Billy - Where?
Freddie - That's not important. What is important is how the track ends up and I think that adding this layer will help make our song even stronger.
Billy and Gordon together - Our song?
Freddie - Ah....here they are!
The party has returned to the studio.
Freddie (jokes) - Let's get upset!
Narrator - We're one step ahead of you, pal.
Cut to Cilla laying down some very soulful vocals, late into the night. The band are suitably impressed.
Devon - What do you think?
George - She is very good.
Gordon - Agreed but...
Billy - This is not us.
George and Gordon nod.
Devon - Look, I spent a lot of money on getting her for you.
George - Perhaps you should have asked us our opinion...
Gordon - Before you made the decision.
Billy - This is not us.
Narrator - Spot on Billy but Devon wasn't for easily giving up on the syrupy goop that our music had morphed into. So, we reconvened in the studio one last time on the Friday morning, Freddie's pre sabbath, sabbath.
Cut to Studio, everyone in place except for Karl.
Devon - Where's Karl?
Freddie - Good news or bad news?
Billy - Start with the bad.
Freddie - The bad news is that Karl has come down with a case of food poisoning or something like that. Throwing up all night...bleuchhh. Karl has been quarantined for the foreseeable.
George sniggers.
Freddie - But the good news is that I've just received a cheque from Howard Jones. Lunch is on me, if you know what I mean (holds side of nose as if sniffing). Good news for you guys....you guys...I break my vows and work the Friday!
Devon - I made him an offer he couldn't refuse.
Freddie (laughs) - No, you made me an offer I couldn't understand! But anyway, I thought that I owed it to us all to see if we can make our song a hit.
Narrator - There he goes again with the 'our song' shit.
Freddie (turns serious) - Let me lay it on the line for you. I can personally guarantee to have this song on heavy rotation on Radio One's playlist by lunchtime on Monday. This song...well, it's our song now...will be picked up by a major label and released soon afterwards and you'll be on the road to wherever you want to go. This is your chance.
George - Devon?
Devon - Lads, this is a good deal. Freddie, for his involvement and contacts, takes a cut of the songwriting, you guys get a sure fire hit. Everyone's a winner. Isn't this what it's all about?
Gordon - But this is not us...it doesn't sound...like us.
Freddie - Do you think Nik Kershaw sounded like that when I first found him? He was a fucking prog rocker with acne! Now? He's a bona fide pop star! And Cilla? Her flat is covered in Gold and silver discs. I made that happen. Look, I know that this is a big leap for you but by this time next week, you'll be on the Wogan show getting your pasty dicks blown by make up girls. Just listen to the track. What have you got to lose?
Devon - And look what you stand to gain.
Billy - We'll need to talk about this.
Freddie - Take the weekend. You guys are driving back home tomorrow and nothing much is happening before Monday but don't wait too long. Don't take this personally but I can go down to Camden and pick up a any number of also ran bands, just like yourself, who would kill for such an opportunity. (shouts to engineer) Play the track!
Cut to band listening to track.
Narrator - He was right. This is something I'd have killed for. Or at least punched someone for. But not in the face. Maybe the arm. But the facts remain. There was virtually no Billy on the track, Gordon was hidden behind a bank of synth noises and I was usurped by Black Cilla. It was a hit. No doubt about it. But it wasn't us. But should we close our eyes, part our cheeks and 'not take it personally' as we get inducted into the cold, hard world of the music business? That's not a real brass section, that's the horns of a dilemma...
Cut to outside the studio.
George - What do you think?
Billy (shakes his head) - I don't know. Gordon?
Gordon - I'm going to get the midday bus back to Glasgow. Can't think straight around here.
George - So, you've made up your mind?
Gordon - I haven't. But I am concerned about what we're sacrificing.
George - Which is?
Billy - We're becoming side men in our own show.
George - Well, I'm fed up with being a fucking also ran. Watching Softly Softly and other assorted knob jockeys steal our thunder. We deserve our chance. Yes, I know that this isn't ideal but it gets us in the door. You told me that a few years before we started, a guy in one of your previous bands voted against signing for a major label due to the lack of money up front?
Gordon - Yes but...
Billy - What if we never get this opportunity again? Think about it. What has brought us here? To this very point. A series of coincidences. Me meeting you, you meeting George...there are forces, both seen and unseen...
Gordon - I'm not saying we should turn this down, we just need to think about it some more... and I just don't know if this is coincidence, serendipity or plan 9 from outer fucking space. But I do feel as if we're stuck between a rock and a hard place...
Billy - The devil and the deep blue sea...
George (sighs) - Exactly! We're caught between the Scylla and Charybdis. Or Black Cilla and Charybdis?
The band laugh.
Gordon - What's the story with big Cilla?
Billy - Gold and silver discs but...
Gordon - She still needed to ask us for 20p for a snack.
George - You should see where she lives, poor cow.
Billy - Don't take it personal?
George and Gordon (together) - It's just business.
Cut to Gordon saying his goodbyes and heading off
.
Narrator - Hit records and not a pot to piss in? Maybe there's something to be said for keeping a firm but stinky hand on your own destiny.
Billy and George head back into the studio. Devon and Freddie have already started smoking...
Freddie - Boys, we'll have no more talk of work. Here comes the weekend!
Cut to the remaining members of the band hitting the bars and members clubs of Hampstead. George is talking to Cilla about their mutual love for soul but is taken away by Freddie as Devon approaches her.
Freddie - Devon, you can drop Cilla off home and I'll look after your boy until you return. (arms around George)You like Northern Soul too? Well, I've got a treat for you.
Narrator - Now the spin begins.
Devon - C'mon sweetheart, this is no place for you.
Cut to car, Devon is driving Cilla back to her place.
Devon - You are some chanter. The boys were very impressed with you, especially George.
Cilla (quietly) Thank you. Please tell George that I enjoyed singing with him.
Devon - Yeah, I will. You know what I think? You should be a big star in your own right.
Cilla goes very quiet.
Devon - Don't you want to be the next Aretha Franklin?
Cilla - Auntie wouldn't like that. She says that avarice is a deadly sin. Auntie said that God will punish me if I try to sing without her permission. God will look after me.
Devon - But you have an incredible talent. A God given one, at that. The world should hear that voice.
Cilla - The Lord will show me the way.
They enter the estate where Cilla lives. Devon escorts Cilla to the door.
The door opens and a fearsome looking woman looks witheringly at Cilla who cowers and rushes indoors.
Devon - Hey Auntie.
Auntie - What time do you call this? It is close to sundown. Where is my donuts?
Devon - I...don't have any...
Auntie - Well, give me Cilla's money and be off with you.
Devon - But Karl already gave you the money?
Auntie (pulling out a long leather strap) - Well, her fee has just gone up.
A shocked Devon gives her the contents of his wallet before Auntie slams the door shut. Devon walks away from the door, he hears slaps and cries.
Devon (clearly upset) - God help that poor lass.
Cut back to bar. George and Billy are being plied with illegal substances as Freddie introduces them to a group of young women.
Narrator - This is some serious lobbying. Stay focussed, you easily led young Jedis.
Cut to George dancing with the group while another woman pours spirits into the mouth of the reclining Billy. Freddie, eyes alive with feral pride as the bacchanalian party turns carnal.
Narrator - One thing the Lord hateth...is a heart that devises wicked plots.
Cut to sun going down over London and the party has now moved to the house owned by Kimberly. Billy is lying on the lawn with an admirer as George is dancing and drinking with a number of girls.
Narrator - Remember Gordon mentioning coincidence and serendipity?
Cut to Gordon walking the unfamiliar streets of London, clearly lost.
Narrator - Turns out the big man was too late for that midday bus and was stuck here for another day. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember the phone numbers or address of either the studio or Kimberly's house so he wandered the streets of London like Caine looking for Grasshopper. But maybe it was another creature that he was destined to find...Now, pay close attention.
Cut to a lost and tired Gordon going into a newsagent to ask for help. As he enters the shop, a van pulls up outside and an equally lost Jimmy the moose gets out and looks around. He has an A to Z map book. He walks into the shop next door to ask for directions. Gordon walks out of the shop and walks past Jimmy's van before stopping and turning slowly. The realisation kicks in as Jimmy walks out of his shop and sees Gordon. The startled pair are so happy to see each other that they embrace, jump around before realising that their actions are being construed as a loving act by the watching public.
Gordon - Where the hell have you been?
Jimmy - I needed to de-stress so I went back to nature for a few days...(cut to Jimmy sleeping under the stars in Regents Park surrounded by sniffing cats)... then remembered that I was hired to do a job for you guys. And...(pauses and smirks) that there was a party tonight. But I have no idea where.
Gordon opens the passenger door of the van, opens the glove compartment and pulls out the piece of paper with the details.
Gordon - But I do!
Cut back to the party. Freddie speaks to two girls and sends them over to George. They pull him gently away from the drinks cabinet, whisper to him then lead him towards the bathroom.
Cut to bathroom, the girls speak in a strange language.
George (clearly drunk) - What? I don't speak ze German!
They run the bath and disrobe.
George - I suppose I am a dirty boy.
Cut to Jimmy's van arriving the house at the same time as Devon's car pulls into the driveway.
Devon (to Gordon, surprised) - You're back? And the Moose too?
Gordon - Long story.
Devon - I knew you couldn't resist a good party.
Gordon (laughs) - Well, someone has to keep an eye on the boys!
Cut to the three entering the house.
Gordon sees Billy, now lying on a large branch to the side of the treehouse. He is being painted by Kimberly.
Gordon - Alright bold yin?
Billy points at Gordon and starts laughing.
Billy (drunk) - I'm in a tree house, tall one!
Gordon - I can see that. Where's George?
Billy - Hang on, I'll have a look for him in the house.
Billy gets up and walks inside the tree house. Gordon waits patiently.
Billy returns after about a minute.
Billy - No, he's not here. Try down in the human house.
Gordon enters the house, looks around then shouts over to Devon.
Gordon - Have you seen George?
Devon - Not since I got here. Have you checked the bedrooms?
Gordon knocks on a number of doors before opening them. He has a different facial expression every time he looks in another room. George is not in any of the bedrooms. Gordon asks various party goers if they've seen the singer but no one is interested. Jimmy shouts Gordon over.
Gordon - Have you seen George?
Jimmy - No but this chick here said that she saw him go into that room with a couple of girls.
Chick - Who are you calling a chick?
Cut to inside the en suite bathroom. An arm dangles over the edge of the bath. There's a couple of loud knocks before...
Boom! The bathroom door is kicked open by Gordon, who freezes in terror at what he has seen.
Gordon - Oh God no...
Narrator - And that's how he found me.
Cut to Devon shouting...
Devon - Billy!!!
(slow motion) A crowd appears as Gordon pulls George's body from the tub and he frantically attempts to revive him. Billy arrives and recoils in shock. Devon rushes in with a blanket as Jimmy tries to keep the voyeuristic crowd at bay.
Narrator - The funny thing about my death is that I don't recall any of it. The last thing I remember was a couple of girls and something about them being German or speaking German but that's about the sum total of my recollections. Did we 'do the do'? I'll never know. I certainly didn't feel the warm glow nor did I see the tunnel. And at no point was there a bright light with my deceased family members beckoning me. Nothing. And that's a worry for a Catholic boy like me. Don't tell my Mum that. I think that would upset her.
Gordon continues to attempt to revive George's cold body and snaps at Devon when he tries to tell him that his efforts are in vain.
Narrator - And that is the hard lesson of the day. Do not, I repeat do not attempt anything with teutonic succubi in a tub whilst under the influence of hard liquor and top grade narcotics. Unless you want to end up like Jim Morrison. Which was what I thought I wanted. But I don't really want to die. Everything's gone quiet. I'm scared. There's so much I still want to do. I'll never stand in the Jungle at Celtic Park again, I'll never punch Lloyd Cole...I'll never know my children....son of a fucking bitch! Accept it George, don't fight it. Let go. It's over.
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...(pause) Well? I'm still here? What's going on...? I'll tell you what's going on.
Cut to George coughing, spluttering...alive.
Narrator - One word, five syllables. Serendipity my friends, serendipity. Let's rewind a little bit.
Cut to hot tub in garden. The tub is covered up by a tarpaulin.
Narrator - It seems Kimberly's brother's 'food poisoning' had caused him to have a little accident in the tub yesterday which meant that my first choice for a soapy love tumble was out of commission. That's why we used the bath which unlike the hot tub, cannot keep the water at a steady 104° F. The drop in bath temperature allowed for something called the mammalian diving reflex to kick in. Here comes the science lesson. When the face is submerged, receptors that are sensitive to cold within the nasal cavity and other areas of the face supplied by cranial nerve V (trigimenal) relay the information to the brain and then innervate cranial nerve X (the vagus nerve), which is part of the autonomic nervous system. This causes bradycardia and peripheral vasoconstriction. Blood is removed from the limbs and all organs but here's the good part, the heart and the brain, creates a heart–brain circuit which allows the mammal to conserve oxygen. Phew! Now being an ex swimmer and a brief alumnus of Glasgow University, Gordon should have known all of that. But what he wouldn't have known is that had he not missed his bus, or bumped into Jimmy with his van and the address in the glove compartment (cut to Gordon walking past the shop just before Jimmy's van arrives) or even if they'd been delayed in traffic, arriving here a few minutes later, all of this would have been academic. As Billy would say, forces both seen and unseen. My Mum would be so proud. This programme was brought to you by the good people of Serendipity Corp, your one stop karmic shop. And we're back...
Cut to back garden, Gordon is walking a blanket covered George around the garden as he regains consciousness. Meanwhile the party continues around them. Billy and Devon are looking for Freddie. They speak to a girl.
Girl - Freddie? No, he left with a couple of German girls earlier.
Devon - Son of a fucking bitch.
Billy (sarcastically) - Don't take it personally, it's business.
Girl (shouts) - Jimmy! Did you take my acid?
Jimmy - No, not guilty. But there's a dragon in the kitchen who might know who did...
Narrator - And so we live to balls up another day.
Cut to the morning after, Devon gets into his car.
Devon - Will you guys be ok?
Gordon - Sure. We'll see you up the road.
The rest of the band pack the equipment into the back of the van, George is surrounded by equipment but fast asleep.
Gordon (to Jimmy) - We'll let Marine Boy rest a bit longer. Are we ready to rock?
Jimmy - Billy went in for some breakfast. Here he is now.
Billy walks out of the house, tucking his shirt in.
Gordon - You didn't have Sugar Puffs did you?
Billy chortles.
Billy - Don't make me laugh. I've got the jaw grind.
Gordon - The what?
Billy - Old Cowboy proverb. Beware the ching as you will find, your baws will shrink and your teeth will grind.
Gordon - Let's get the fuck out of dodge.
Billy enters the front passenger seat and sniffs.
Billy - Do you smell cat?
Cut to band driving back to Scotland, playing and discussing the demo and what their decision is going to be.
Billy - That's my feelings on the matter.
Gordon - And it comes down to the same thing. Do we compromise a little to get in the door, which allows us a taste of comfort...
Billy - And puts us in the hands of the likes of Freddie??
Gordon - Exactly. Or do we follow our own path?
Billy - And eat soup out of the pot for the foreseeable future? We need to make a decision.
Gordon - Maybe it's time to ask Sleeping Beauty what he thinks?
Billy looks in the back and sees George already awake.
George sticks his dishevelled head into the front of the van.
Gordon - Morning!
George - Jimmy, can you pull over at the next opportunity?
Cut to van pulling into a service station.
George, Gordon and Billy stand on a footbridge over a small river.
Gordon - Are you sure this is what you want?
George - Absolutely.
Billy - Go for it.
George takes the cassette out of the case, throws it in the air then boots it 20ft into the stream.
The three turn and walk back to the van.
Gordon - Good shot.
George - Cheers.
Billy - Not the most ecologically friendly thing to do but...
George - I know but it wouldn't have been such a grand statement if I just dropped it in the bin, would it?
Billy - Clearly.
Gordon - We'll keep this one from Sting, ok?
George - Deal.
Narrator - So, back over the border we went. Tail between our legs or with a renewed sense of purpose? What do you think? Don't you know us by now???
Cut to van, Jimmy brings out a cassette.
Jimmy - I was saving this for our triumphant return. But what the hell!
The cassette begins playing old kitsch Scottish tunes by Harry Lauder to the merriment of the band.
They all sing along as the van passes the sign that says 'Welcome to Scotland'.
Narrator - In case you were wondering what happened to the cast of characters in London, well Karl...he went to jail...
Cut to prison. Karl is sitting at a table, suddenly a noise then a riot...Karl puts on his hat and presses a button to alert the other prison wardens before locking his own office door and hiding.
Kimberly met the Queen...
Cut to Kimberly looking smart and smiling, outside of Buckingham Palace with a medal.
Sadly, Freddie didn't make it. He was the passenger of a car driven by a very stoned pop star that crashed into the bar that used to be the Dome in Hampstead. The driver was unhurt. Elton sent flowers, Wogan didn't show. I'm sure he'd understand, it wasn't personal. Just business. At least old Cliff made an appearance, singing Daddy's Home as his body disappeared behind the curtains. And in death, we found out his real name. Cut to crematorium, the order of service cards show the name...Frederick Kruger.
And as for Cilla...
Cut to flat where Auntie is sitting on the sofa, scoffing donuts.
Narrator - A piece of glazed French cruller gets lodged in poor Aunties throat and she starts to choke. She frantically tries to move but she can't. Cilla, facing the wall in the corner listening to her music through headphones, is unaware of her guardian's garbled cries for help. If only Auntie would've let her listen to music in the living room, she wouldn't need to wear headphones... Another little twist of fate, eh? Finally free from Auntie's clutches, Cilla finds the money she'd kept from her and starts to live her life, the way the good Lord had intended.
Cut to Cilla patiently teaching little kids to sing.
Narrator - In her own school, no less. Now that's serendipity.
Cut to the van disappearing over the hill towards Glasgow to the sound of 'You tak the high road...and I'll tak the low road...
End
