Episode 15 - Inside Job

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Episode 15 - Inside Job

By George Paterson

 

 

 

 

Opens in a club. The band are packing their instruments in a van after a gig.

Gordon - So, what's Devon's new pad like?

Billy and George look at him blankly.

Narrator - We have been deposited in strange lands, in the midst of darkness. And when your manager has abandoned your communal squat...eh, townhouse, bolting to a new place in leafy Hampstead with a couple of fresh and relatively successful acts to take care of, it's hard not to feel a little concerned and betrayed.

 

Gordon - I don't think he ever missed a gig before.

Billy - He didn't even get us this one.

George - I'll ask him about it tomorrow. He's put us on the guest list for Bad Manners in Camden. You guys up for it?

Slippy (shuffles evasively) - Em....

Billy - I'm washing my hair.

George - Big man, you're up for it, eh?

Gordon - I'm washing Billy's hair too.

George - Slippy? C'mon?

Slippy - Conditioning?

Narrator - I suppose the thought of 2000 pissed up skinheads wasn't most people's idea of a charming soiree. But the Devon situation was indicative of how the London experience was becoming. Every day was bringing fresh challenges.

Cut to the town house. Romeo is packing his bag.

 

Billy - What do you want me to tell her?

Romeo - My philosophy is to trust in Allah but secure your camel, just in case. Things are changing. Not a good idea to hang around here mate. Too many watching eyes. Too many people upset. Y'know, I see bad people. I see bad people everyday. But these guys... I know Juliet and sure, we had our fun but that girl...these people...they're bad news. Take care of yourselves, White boys.

The door closes and Billy and George go into the kitchen to make some tea. The doorbell goes.

 

George - Romeo must have forgotten something...

He opens the door to find two mean looking black guys.

George - Oh, hello.

1st Black guy (Jamaican accent) - You Devon?

George - Eh no...

2nd Black guy - You Scottish...

George - Yeah, me Scottish.

1st Black guy - Devon Scottish...

George - But me no Devon. He's not here.

Black guys check George out. They are very intimidating.

1st Black guy - Tell him we want to speak to him.

George (intimidated) - Who shall I say wants him?

2nd Black guy thinks about it.

2nd Black guy - Tell him...Morecambe and Wise.

George returns to the kitchen.

Billy - Who was that?

Narrator - Fuck knows but something tells me that they don't sleep together, reading plays.

George - We've got to get out of this place.

Narrator - Meanwhile in another part of London...

Cut to bookies, focus is on Gordon as he watches a horse race on TV. He starts off calm but his demeanour changes...

Commentator - And coming into the final furlong...wait....oh my goodness! The hot favourite, Prospective Dog Meat, takes a tumble! What a disaster! With the finishing line in sight, that will surely have pleased the bookies who were expecting to take a major hit. But don't worry race fans, both jockey and horse look as if they're unharmed.

Gordon walks up to a TV screen. And head butts it.

Narrator - ...our guitarist has developed a pressing need to supplement his income.

Cuts to Gordon being forcibly ejected from bookies. He dusts himself down but a sign catches his eye.

The sign says...

'Bar steward required for Antipodean Gentlemans Club. Call Charles on 01 482...

 

Narrator - Antipodean Gentleman? Surely a misnomer. But as one door closes, another opens.  Especially when you're a lucky bar steward.

Narrator -.And so, we head back to Camden and a Ballroom that is said to be Electric. Over some strong Belgian bevvy, Devon is about to be called to task...

Cut to the sound check. Popular ska skinheads, Bad Manners are going through their paces for the soundman, Devon passes George a bottle of beer.

Devon - What do you think?

George - I was thinking where the fuck were you last night?

Devon - What do you think this is all about? I've been given a very good opportunity by some very big players. If I can get this tour sorted, who do you think will be supporting them in Scandinavia?

George - Us?

Devon nods.

George (grabs his own hair) - In case you forgot, we're not quite the target audience for these guys.

Cut to quick shots of band escaping from skin heads in Houston and Gordon and Billy swatting moshing skins with their guitars at Halt Bar.

Devon - A paid tour not good enough for you? OK then, what about a few German dates with Dennis Brown?

George - The reggae singer? Sweet Jesus mate, are you trying to get us slaughtered? And that reminds me. Why are there yardies looking for you?

Devon - What? 

George - Yardies. Two mean looking Jamaican fuckers.

Devon (worried) - What did you tell them?

George - I told them that I didn't know where you are. And I don't. Because Billy and I are stuck in that shitehole while you swan off to Hampstead with your new pals.

Devon - Hey, the town house is not my problem.  I got you a rent free place, central location, nice area for families, schools etc.

George - What?

Devon (flustered) -  Don't worry. I'll take care of it.  It's all under control.

Narrator - But it wasn't.  An already tenuous grip on the situation was slipping away from Devon.  And just when you thought it couldn't get any more fraught...

Venue manager runs over to Devon.

Manager - Devon, we've got a bit of an issue.

Cut to Devon in heated conference with Venue Manager.

Narrator - Turns out that my amigos weren't the only ones that didn't fancy having to deal with the local chapter of the Camden Skin brotherhood.

Cut to security staff taking off their mics and headsets before walking away. Venue Manager and Devon discuss the situation as George peers out of first floor window at the already rowdy crowd.

Narrator - Gulp.

Devon returns to George.

Devon - Nothing else for it.

George - What do you mean? Is the show off?

Devon -  No.

George - Who's doing the door then?

Devon looks at George with a nervous smile.

George (incredulous) - Are you out of your tiny fucking mind? Look at me!

Devon looks at George's leather jacket, long hair, jeans and cowboy boots.

George - I'm ten stone wet and the antithesis of their kind. They'll rip me to pieces!

Devon - OK, I have another idea.

Narrator - Phew, that was close. Just for a second there I thought I was going to have to go snakeskin to Doc Marten with these head cases.

Cut to stage, gig is underway. Fans are bouncing, some are climbing onto the stage. Close up on the back of the two onstage security men, pushing and kicking stage diving skinheads back into the crowd. One is short with red hair, the other has long hair and is wearing cowboy boots and an Electric Ballroom t-shirt over a leather jacket. Bottles fly towards them.

George (at one side of stage, shouting) - You fucking owe me, you little bastard.

Cut to Worlds End pub after gig.

Devon is pressing notes into George's palm. Devon goes to put his money away. George continues to hold his hand out, wanting more. Devon obliges, grudgingly.

George - And the keys to your place in Gayton Road.

Devon shakes head before handing them over.

Devon - One night only.  And don't cover my bed in baby gravy and fanny batter. I only have one set of sheets.

Narrator - And I have spotted just the girl to splatter with my tsunami of spooge!

George spots the Greek girl he had a fling with before.  As he approaches her table, he notices that she's with another guy. She sees George but deliberately moves her new partner away from George's line of sight.

Narrator - I am hurt....(sad music plays)... I ran a paternal gauntlet of doom for her. Even though it was like licking a used brillo pad, I gave her some of my best serious hairy tongue love. And what did I get? A broken heart and industrial strength pubes on my palate for a week.

Cut to close up of a sad looking George.

Narrator (sighs) - I went out on a freshly waxed limb for that girl. Ah, the sting of rejection. There's only one thing I can do now...

Cut to George's sights moving slightly to the girls left. A slightly younger but very similar girl looks at George.

Narrator - ...Man up and pump her sister.

Cut to George and girl leaving Worlds End pub as Gordon, Billy and Slippy arrive.

Gordon - Need to talk to you about something. Hush hush. Meet tomorrow. And can you get your hands on 4 balaclavas?

An intrigued George nods then sniffs Billy's hair.

George - Mmmm...jojoba with a light hint of cinnamon and ...microwave pizza!

Cut to Devons new place, later that night. The bedroom is dimly lit. Door bell goes.

Girl - Who's that?

George - Fuck knows.  Ignore it.

Doorbell goes again.

George - Go away!

There is a heavy pounding on the door.

George pulls on his trousers and heads towards the door.

George - Fucking hell Devon...

George opens the door to find the two intimidating black guys from the town house, Morecambe and Wise.

Narrator - Oh dear...

Morecambe - We're looking for Devon.

George (frightened)  - I'm not Devon.

Wise - We know that. You...skinny pussy. He...red bloodclot.

Morecambe - Where is Devon?

George - I honestly have no idea mate.

Morecambe - I not your mate.

George - Sorry mate...I mean man...dude.

Wise - You tell Devon he call me. He knows the number.

Narrator - And a pound to a penny that number ain't 'Bring me Sunshine'...

Cut to London street, daytime. Gordon and George are going into pubs, handing out demos.

Narrator - Well, if Devon won't do it, it's down to us. Again.

George - So, what's this idea you've got.

Gordon - All in good time. Fancy stopping for a beer?

George - Yeah.  But I don't have much money. Spent it all on balaclavas.

Gordon - Good work, true believer. And I'll get the beers. For I now have a second job! 

George (matches Gordon's thumbs up) - Dancer!

Gordon (quietly) - Close!

George - We can always hit a few trivia machines before we meet Billy.

Narrator - One positive about being vacuous rock gods is that there is plenty room in the cranial compartment for random and generally pointless information which comes in particularly handy for a £20 jackpot every now and again.

Gordon gives George a double thumbs up.

Gordon - Where is the bold yin anyway?

Cut to a central London Hi Fi store. Billy is being interviewed by the owner, an elderly Indonesian man with an ill fitting wig, Mr Sumatra.

Mr Sumatra - So, Mr Billiam, what is your experience of working with hi fi equipment?

Billy - Well, I've done a bit of...

Cut to scenes of Billy overloading amplifiers and violently hitting them with various tools.

Billy - ...And some....

Cut to Billy wiring up a huge banks of speakers.

Billy - And once I ....

Cut to Billy turning a volume control know up past safe limits with a devilish grin.

Mr Sumatra - And your experience in the retail field?

Billy - Yep, I've spent some time in sales...

Cut to Billy selling stolen speakers from the back of his car.

Mr Sumatra (banging the top of a TV) - Damn it to hell! I like you. You have an honest face.

Cut to Billy sporting a toothless smile.

Billy - Thank you very much Mr Sumatra.

Indian Man - Call me Frank.

Narrator - Frank Sumatra?

Cut to Billy looking over the Mr Sumatra's shoulder.

Billy - Do I get one of those?

Cut to pub, Slippy arrives to join George and Gordon. Billy walks in behind him wearing a shiny black jacket.

George - Nice!

Billy - They've just changed the company's name so they were binning these.

Billy deposits bin bag full of similar jackets on the table.

Slippy - So, are you ready to divulge the great plan?

Gordon - First, more booze chaps?

Narrator - Good shout Flash! Because never in the history of storytelling has a great adventure begun with the cry...'More Hummus chaps?'

Cut to Devon at a soundcheck for Dennis Brown. He's lost in the music, swaying with his eyes closed.

A voice from beside him shakes him out of his 'happy place'

Male - Me love this song.

Devon looks around to see Morecambe and Wise, either side of him.

Morecambe - We need to talk.

Wise - It's time.

Devon's shoulders sag.

Cut back to the pub, the band are now quite drunk and going over Gordon's plan.

Gordon - It's fool proof. We'll be in and out before anyone even notices. 

Slippy - Sounds a bit risky, it is the government we're taking on after all. What about closed-circuit cameras?

Gordon - That's the beauty of it.  There are no cameras.

George - I don't know, big man.

Billy - I need plans. Dimensions. We cannot risk a technical failure because...

Gordon - Trust me. The pay off will be worth it. Each of you take one balaclava and one of Billy's jackets. Rendezvous at 7 sharp at the flat, for an 8 o'clock start.

George - Ronday what?

Billy - Whose flat?

Slippy - Gordon's flat.

George (slurs) - Gordon's always flat. Hehehe...

Gordon - Oh, you're so sharp.  At least I don't comb my hair with a fucking balloon, ya rocket.

George - Ya scudbook!

Slippy - Guys! Gordon's house! 7 sharp.

Billy - Got it.

Pause

Billy - 8 o'clock at the flat for a 7 start?

Gordon - 7.

George - I'll meet you at the site. Fucked if I'm travelling across London just to come back.

Slippy (trying balaclava on backwards) - I can't wear this. This doesn't work. I can't see.

George - My jacket's too big. Not form fitting...

Gordon - We're not going to a fucking fashion show. It's not a night out. (shakes head) Why do I bother?

Slippy - And we need a password. A code...

Billy (drunk but serious) - Tall one, is it 7 in the morning or 7 in the evening?

Slippy - What's the code? Won't work without a code.

George - Yeah man...we've got to have a code!

Gordon throws his head back in despair as George tries to finish his pint through his balaclava in vain.

Narrator - Little history lesson here. In the late 80's, the longstanding contretemps between the British and their neighbours to the west had gone past merely simmering. It was 'yer tea's out' time. This meant that security in old London town was tighter than Devon at divvying up time. Particularly in buildings covered by the crown. Or so you'd think...

Cut to Gordon and Billy in van pulling up. Billy backs into a telecom junction box on the quiet side street. 

Gordon looks out the window to check.

Billy - Well? 

Gordon - I won't tell if you won't. Right, we'll just wait here for Slippy and George.

Billy - Isn't this a bit risky?

Gordon - Nah.  Big Clive the security guard has his McDonalds then goes to the Connaught pub, every Sunday evening at 7pm until last orders at 10.30.  That gives us 3 and a bit hours to get in, do our thing and fet tae guck, if you get what I mean.

Slippy and George arrive at the van, in their full stealth gear.  The former taps in code on the van door as the latter shouts the password... 

George (looking in the window) - Afghanistan bananastand!

Billy (looking out of window) -  What?

Billy returns the code.  George taps another code. 

Billy returns the code again.

George - Afghanistan bana...

Gordon (shouts) - Just open the fucking door.

The band sits tight in the van, waiting for their chance. They're all wearing balaclavas and the jackets Billy got from his new job.

Slippy - Question. These jackets have a very distinctive name on the breast which could possibly help identify us. Not that anyone will be looking for us. As what we're doing with regards the 'breaking into a government building' part of this operation isn't in the slightest bit suspicious. Or illegal.

Gordon - Oh...

Billy - No bother.

Billy proceeds to tear at the lettering of the logo. It now reads 'PRV! instead of PRN! 

Billy - Better?

Narrator - No chance of being caught now.

The band nod.

Slippy (going into his pockets) - Here...put these latex gloves on. Prints?

Gordon (laughs) You're all taking this a bit too seriously. Don't worry.

Cut to large male leaving the building, heading towards the fast food shops.

Gordon - Right. That's our cue.  Let's go!

Cut to the band jumping out of the van carrying heavy bags. They run around the building to the trade entrance and Gordon pops the lock with a crowbar. He stops.

Gordon - This is your last chance to bail, girls. No going back after this.

George - Let's fucking do this.

 

Narrator - Just to reiterate, this is smack bang in the middle of the City of London. During what was known as a campaign of hostile resistance towards the government and the British establishment.  And we're about to ratchet it up a notch. And for what? 20p off the price of a pint? Free eyeliner for rock gods? No. We did it for this...

Cut to a dimly lit stairway. George is standing in front of a metal pole fiddling with some wires. He waits until Billy, also wiring some devices, gives him the nod.

There is the sound of a police siren. The band freezes.

Pause...the siren passes.

Slippy and Gordon keep look out and give thumbs up when the coast is clear.

Billy - Here goes.

Narrator - Take cover...three, two, one...

 

Pull back to reveal George singing. 

Gordon gives Slippy and Billy a double thumbs up.

Billy whispers to Gordon...

Billy - Quality reverb, tall one!

 

Narrator - The remarkable thing about our stay in London was that despite the madness of Juliet's place, the chaotic nature of our desperate attempts at securing gainful employment and the sturm und drang of this divided and damaged land, we'd recaptured the spirit and essence of why we did this ridiculous thing in the first place and as a result, were producing some of the best music we'd ever made. Little 3 minute gems about life, love and loss were our stock in trade and we were nailing it. With the help of a particularly echoey stairway owned by yer Maj. Thank you, Ma'am, OBE in the post?

 

Cut to band rocking out, making their escape then having a few drinks to celebrate their bold plans success.

Narrator - If necessity was the mother of invention, we were her noisy and creative progeny. This was our year zero. Stripped of a scene that had crippled us as much it had nurtured us, we found ourselves in a position to go Hai Karate, balls out. And with our Caledonian clackerbags swinging in the London air, it felt as if nothing could stop these modern day Guy Fawkes! Only, we wanted to bring destroy the establishment and create a new land built with justice and tolerance armed only with the power of our rock! Or make a big bag of money. We weren't fussed.

 

Cut to Gordon arriving at HMRC the next morning. There are a number of police officers around, dusting for finger prints and taking statements from various senior managers. An eavesdropping Gordon ventures as close as he can without drawing attention to himself. 

Officer on scene (radio) - Nothing coming up regarding prints, Ma'am.

Female officer - Keep looking. We need to find some clue as to who this unit is.

 

Gordon slinks away, worried.

Cut to Scotland Yard.

Senior Officer - What do you mean there is no internal CCTV? (angry) Give me a status update.

Female officer - Sir, we have little to go on as yet but our men in the field are fine tooth combing the area.

Senior Officer - Damn it, Hoskins! There must be something...

Another officer arrives.

3rd Officer - Sir, there's something you should take a look at.

The officers sit down to look at street CCTV images of the band arriving and leaving the HMRC office.

3rd Officer - Can't make out their faces unfortunately. And as there was an outage in the Holborn area, this is all we have.

Senior Officer - Stop.  Close in on the jacket.

The image of the name on the jacket is enhanced. The confused officers look at the lettering.

Senior Officer (slumps back in his chair) - How many more of these splinter groups are out there?

Female Officer - Shall I circulate the images, Sir?

 

Cut to Gordon knocking on his bosses door.

Gordon (faking) - Cough...sniff...Jim, I'm feeling a bit under the weather, is it OK if I go home?

 

Cut to a stunned Billy watching the breaking news on a TV in his HiFi store. A breathless Gordon arrives at the shop.

Cut to Slippy eating his lunch at work as his colleagues discuss the break in. His boss calls him over to take a call.

 

Cut to George, wearing only a t shirt and shorts, dozing on the couch at the squat, surrounded by takeaway containers, oblivious to the developing situation.

 

Narrator - And in my golden slumbers, my thoughts invariably turn to our impending world wide fame. Only this time, it wasn't quite the way God planned it.

 

Cut to an anxious Billy, Gordon and Slippy arriving at the squat. They shake George from his sleep.

 

Gordon - Get your trousers on...

George (in a Sweeney style voice) - You're nicked?

The band look at George.

Billy - Not funny.

 

Slippy turns on the TV and all four sit watching the news.

 

Moira Stewart - Terror comes to the capital again with another attack on a government building. This time, a new splinter group...the Provisional Republican Volunteers, broke into the Inland Revenue building in Holborn. Here's Terry Dearborn, our Counter Terrorism correspondent.

 

Cut to band watching, agog.

 

Terror expert - Well Moira, we don't know much about the PRV but from the intel we have and these images garnered (shows grainy stills of four men) they do look like a very well organised group.

 

Narrator - Really? Can we put that on our flyers?

 

Moira - Interestingly, all of the main republican factions are claiming responsibility for the break in. 

 

Narrator - Is that the sound of the walls crashing down or is it just me? Hardy souls we may be, compared to Brother Beyond but in the real world, I don't think prison will work for us. 20 to life for a bit of reverb?  OK, it was a great reverb, a slice of hot buttered Isaac Hayes with a touch of the Montague Terrace Scott Walkers...but that's besides the point. In the years we've been together, we've been in our share of tight spots but nothing comes remotely close to this very dangerous jam. Could we go the police and 'fess up? Sorry guys, it was a huge misunderstanding? No, this is too big to back down from.  Fucking hell, Moira Stewart is involved now. And it's not as if we'd be the first guys to be done up like a kipper by the establishment. If they can concoct elaborate back stories for the Guildford Four, Birmingham Six and the Dave Clark Five, what chance do we stand?  Billy might be able to make it...

 

 

 

Cut to Billy being dragged towards a cell.  He snarls defiantly.

Billy - You'll never take me alive coppers!

Gordon might be able to adjust...

Cut to Gordon being escorted to his cell. He's clearly unhappy with it.

Gordon (picks up pillows and blanket) - Nah...Nah...this isn't good enough. Hawl, concierge! Who do I speak to about an upgrade?.

Narrator - ...but then again, maybe not. Slippy? They'd never catch him. I'm pretty sure he has a few fake passports for such eventualities.

Cut to a bearded Slippy riding a horse over some hills.

Narrator - And he would slip away on a palomino over the Pampas. Quietly without fuss. Which is more than can be said for me.

Cut to a rabid George, foaming at the mouth, being strapped into a straightjacket as the prison barber arrives.

George (screams) - Ya bastards!!!  Not my fucking hair!!!

Narrator (shudders) - What a sobering thought.  

 

Cut back to the living room, the band are edgy.

George - What are we going to do?

Billy - We need to lay as low as possible.

Gordon - I can stretch my cold out a couple of days.

Billy - It's important that we don't draw attention to ourselves.

Slippy - A bit fucking late now.

 

The door bell goes.

 

The band freeze.

Slippy (whispers) - Bollocks.

Gordon - They've found us...

Narrator - From my experience, the Counter Terrorism Unit tend to ring politely only when they want a chat and a cuppa.

Billy (grabbing a hammer) - Pull the curtains, turn the lights off and don't act suspicious.

George - That is the fucking definition of suspicious!

The doorbell rings again.

Gordon - Fuck!

George - I'm going to see who it is.

Gordon peers out then opens the back window. He starts to climb out.

Gordon - It's been a pleasure serving with you guys...

Billy (now clutching a hammer and a chain) - Tell them not to shoot, we're unarmed.

George  tiptoes down and puts his ear up to the door.

A female voice shouts....

Female - Guys!!!! Let me in.  I know you're in there!

 

George - Myra?

The band breathe a sigh of relief. George lets Myra in and does a quick look to see if she's been followed.

Myra - I've been trying to call you guys but none of you were at work.

Band shuffle nervously.

Myra - We need to talk...(notices news) Did you hear about the break in? That's where you work, isn't it Gordon?

Gordon checks the curtains again.

Myra - Never mind. I've got some news and it isn't good. The police paid me a visit.

Band  look concerned.

Myra - It's Devon.

Billy - What's happened?

Myra - He's in jail.

End.