Everybody Wants to Rule the World by George Paterson
Episode 17 - Do the Wrong Thing
Opens with George on the phone, laughing and drinking a beer. Cuts to Brian on the other end, laughing back.
Narrator - It's good to talk. But even better to open your mail on time. While I'd been out conquering the world...OK conquering London...fine...making ends meet in a city that couldn't care less, my buddies back home were making their mark, in their own way.
Brian - I've got something else to tell you...
Cuts back to George who spits his beer out.
George (shocked) - No way!
Brian - Sometime between Christmas and New Year.
George - No fucking way!!!
Brian - Congratulations is the normal way to greet such news.
George - That's it. I'll definitely be up for the holidays. Do you know what it is yet?
Brian - I think it's going to be a baby.
Narrator - Since before Noah told Mrs Noah to take the washing in, man will want to give woman a good podgering. And when that happens - and it does seem to work - they'll pick out a cave and start planning Pebbles and Bam Bam. It wasn't Brian's place to buck millions of years of evolutionary design, was it? Still, you wouldn't catch the White guys getting hooked like that.
Cut to Billy and his girlfriend having a moonlight picnic on a roof over looking London, Gordon having dinner with Katie and George taking in a film with Lucy.
Narrator - It'll never last and I'll tell you why. Despite us having what our colonial cousins would describe as 'steadys', we, in the 'charming rock star' percentage of the male species, had a natural proclivity to splatter the tadpole batter freely. And although I now accept that my behaviour at this time was morally questionable, I'm not above attempting to apportion blame in the direction of Desmond Morris and the 'take what you want' ethos of the Thatcher government. Conscience clear? Hmmm... But I'll give Gordon his due here. This was one flutter he called perfectly. In Glasgow, you might have to put some effort into getting a taste but down here? Especially if you're a young, handsome wannabe rock star. Embarrassingly easy. But with the incremental increase in encounters, comes an upswing in things you should NEVER...EVER... say...in flagrante bolloxo.
(chart countdown music with Alan Freeman style voice over)
right pop pickers, at number 5...
It's Slippy with...
Slippy - At least yours smells better than your sisters does.
Big mover at Number 4, here's the bold yin with...
Billy (disappointed) - Oooh. You've already had kids, haven't you?
New entry at number 3. It's Georgie Worst
George - Did you know Mark Knopfler is from Glasgow?
Holding firm at number 2 is Gordon with his take on the old classic...
Woman - Oooh! That's the wrong hole!
Gordon - Nah, I don't think so, love.
And still at number one, here's Devon...
Devon (loud) - Mammy daddy!!!!
Cut back to George and Brian on the phone.
Brian - So, how's it going in the Smoke?
George - Ups and downs. How's the Skull?
Brian - You wouldn't believe it but he's just taken a job with a great deal of social responsibility...
Cut to Donny helping frail old ladies onto buses. He takes his seat, puts his cap on backwards and shouts...
Donny - Are you ready?
A ripple of affirmation goes up.
Donny (shouts louder) - I can't hear you...ARE YOU READY????
The pensioners shout out excitedly as Donny revs up the bus.
Pensioners - YES!
Donny - Rock and fucking roll!
Old lady (Shaking with excitement) - Do it, Skull... DO IT YOU LITTLE BITCH!!!
George - And Andy?
Brian - Doing well with his new band. He heard you mentioned on Radio One last Friday.
George - Really?
Brian - One of the DJ's was going to your gig that night.
George - Oh...
Cut to gig in very small basement. The support band are playing, they are foppish, effete and not particularly competent.
Gordon enters and sits in front of the makeshift stage, smiling at the band.
Gordon - This lot are pish.
Billy - Yeah.
George - We're gonna destroy these.
Myra comes over to the band.
George - At least we've got some media support.
Myra (apologetic) - Sorry guys...I've been sent here to interview Moleskin for the NME.
Billy - What the fuck is Moleskin?
Myra nods towards the stage.
Narrator - This is the next big thing?
The support band finish and White take the stage. The decent sized crowd gets smaller. Myra pushes past some other music journalists to speak to the departing band.
Narrator - Once again, the support gets the girl. Baws. These London numpties don't get it. I'm clearly more beautiful than clown shoes over there. (cut to skinny singer pouting towards a bemused George) In fact, this motherfucker makes me look positively macho. Let's get intae these cuntos!
Slippy counts the band in and ...the noise level goes up considerably.
Narrator - Now, I'm being serious for a minute. Who is better? Foppy bollocks or us? On every level, we win.
Cut to the support band departing with throng of supporters and journalists leaving the bar almost empty. The bar manager looks at the empty room and gestures to the band to wrap it up.
Narrator - Well, almost every level. If truth be told, we are struggling to establish ourselves here. A manager would help. Preferably, a non incarcerated one. And although Myra was making eyes at her new paramours...
Cut to George walking into EMI records.
Narrator - ...Old loyalties die hard.
George is walked up a staircase towards an office by a middle aged man called Trevor.
Trevor - And here...is where the Beatles shot that famous balcony picture.
George, impressed, looks down, mimicking the pose.
George - Wow!!!!!
Trevor points out a desk for George.
Trevor - Take a seat.
George is handed a pile of fan mail.
Narrator - I wish I could say that this was for me but...
Trevor - You'll be replying on behalf of one of our new bands.
George - Who?
Trevor - They're from up your way...
George looks down and spots the name...
Softly, Softly.
Narrator - ...but this was better!
Cut to George writing on the official photos of the reformed band.
Trevor and a line manager look at George from across the office.
Manager - He seems to be quite committed.
Cut back to George who is drawing large penises and horns on the bands publicity pictures.
Trevor - Myra did say that he was a nice young chap.
Cut to George leaving the building, carrying a bulging mail sack.
Narrator - I lasted 3 days before the first complaint call arrived back. I was sorry about letting Trevor down but I think he understood.
Cut to Trevor calling George back and giving him a Climie Fisher tour jacket.
Narrator - Funnily enough, he fucking hated Softly, Softly too.
Cut to the World's End Pub, George is dishing out the booty over a few beers.
Slippy - Yes! The new Queen album. I'll have one of those.
Gordon - I'll take a Tim Finn.
Billy - Beastie Boys for me.
Slippy - So, have you spoken to this manager that Devon knows?
Billy - Yeah. He's coming to the Bull and Gate on Thursday. Devon said that if he likes what he sees, he'll manage us.
Gordon - And if we don't like what we see?
George - We'll burn that bridge when we come to it.
Billy - Myra says he's got great contacts but...
Gordon - But?
Slippy - He's supposedly a bit weird.
George - A bit full of shit is what I heard.
Billy - And given Devon's recommendation, possibly a bit of a gangster.
Gordon - Just what we need.
George - What we really need is a new demo.
Billy - But where are we going to get the money for that?
George - Perhaps we could ask some random full of shit, weird gangster for it?
Gordon - Don't worry about the demo dosh. I've got this covered.
Cut to old fashioned bar. The doors are locked and the curtains closed. A handful of serious looking patrons are hanging back for the lock in.
Gordon shouts out from behind the bar.
Gordon - Last man standing, £40 a head. Give Brendan your stake. Anyone for a top up?
The patrons line up to pass their money to an elderly man.
Gordon pours the competitors large measures and grabs a pool cue.
Gordon - Who's first?
Cut to montage of Gordon beating them, one after another.
Drunk patron - Another game big man?
Gordon - Let me get another drink in.
He pours himself some soda and gives his opponent another large scotch.
Gordon - Rack them up!
Cut back to the World's End. Gordon slaps down a pile of banknotes.
Billy - Nice work, tall one!
Narrator - Good to see that an afternoon getting played by the McKendrick sisters wasn't entirely wasted.
Cut to band setting up in the rehearsal studio.
Fozzy pops his head around the door,
Fozzy - Hey guys, anyone for tea?
The band reply in unison.
Band - NO!
Gordon - That reminds me, I think I might need a new part time job soon.
George - How come?
Gordon - The guys in the pub think I'm a narc.
Slippy - A what?
Billy - A narcotics officer.
George - How come?
Gordon - Because I stay sober..
Billy - To beat them at pool.
Gordon - ...and because I iron my shirt.
Narrator - Aside from the music, being an ordinary, regular Daz challenge, working stiff was throwing up some peculiar predicaments for us all. For Gordon...
Cut to old fashioned bar. The manager has lined up his staff, of which Gordon is one.
Barmaid - What's the matter Pete?
Manager - I'm going to come right out with it. Takings are down and the brewery ain't happy. We're struggling to make ends meet and we've got a big tax bill to pay.
Elderly Barman (whispers to Gordon) - But he can still buy a brand new Mercedes...
Barmaid - How can the bar be broke, Pete? We've been packed to the rafters every night for months.
Manager - As from this week, everyone, myself included, will be getting a pound an hour less. That's all.
The bar staff are unimpressed as the bar manager walks out.
Narrator - For Billy...
Cut to audio visual store. Billy is under pressure running around trying to serve customers, answering the phone and being summoned to the store room. The owner, Mr Sumatra arrives and is unimpressed.
Mr Sumatra - What is going on here, Billiam?
Billy's workmates, Errol and Max, are sitting on the roof enjoying the sunshine.
Max - Should we go down and help him?
Errol - Nah. Let the new boy learn the ropes like we did.
They laugh...
Narrator - ...and for George.
Cut to mail room. George and his fellow workers check their pay packets and find that they are short for a shift that they worked off the books.
George - It's light. It's about £60 light.
Niall - Damn.
Jordan - That's the second time this has happened. The boss asks us to work extra hours, off the books and then conveniently forgets to pay us.
George is raging.
Narrator - In times of great adversity, one must go to ones reservoir of dignity, courage and character. And kick some ass. So said Chuck Norris...
Cut back to Gordon in the bar...
The bar staff are unimpressed as the bar manager walks out.
Barman - What are we going to do?
Gordon opens up the cash float and empties it on the bar. He gives a £20 note to each of the staff before stuffing the rest in his jeans.
Barmaid - What are you doing?
Gordon - Call it severance.
Barman - You can't do that. He'll get the police...
Gordon - Tell him, I am the fucking police.
Elderly bar man laughs as Gordon waves goodbye.
Cut to mess room at Billy's shop. Errol and Max are taking another break, sharing a sandwich.
Errol - Alright Jock!
Max - What are you doing here? You've got to look after the shop while we have our break. Them's the rules.
Errol - Yeah, them's the rules man.
Billy stands over their table, quiet.
Billy - Enjoying your sandwich, boys?
Errol - We'd offer you some but there's not enough to go around.
Billy pulls out a massive hunting knife, a gift from Man Bat. He plunges the knife into the sandwich and it goes through the table.
Billy (looking mean) - I beg to differ.
Errol and Max are stunned.
Billy - Break time's over.
Cut to George leads his co workers storming through the typing pool towards the bosses office. Their numbers grow with each floor they climb. They are singing a song in the style of Les Miserables.
Chorus - We want our money. We want it now. And we will take it.
George - Yes, we will take it. For it is ours!
Chorus - We are the men. We are the women.
George - And a few of us are somewhere in between! And that's alright!
Chorus - And that's alright. We want our money!
George - We are tired of being oppressed.
Chorus - We are depressed from being oppressed.
George - It's depressing having no money.
Chorus - We have no money and that's not funny. We want our money and we want it now!
They storm into the terrified bosses office and George leaps on to his table as the chorus reaches its crescendo.
Cut back to Endurance studios. The band are packing up.
Billy - Right, Thursday. Just to recap, sound check at 6, gig at 8.
Gordon - We need to make this one count.
Slippy - No fuck ups.
The band nod their heads in agreement.
George - Agreed. Best behaviour.
Cut to Bull and Gate, White are sound checking. It's not going well.
Narrator - This broadcast has been delayed due to unforeseen technical difficulties.
Cut to George sitting on drum riser having a drink with Billy. Slippy is adjusting his drum kit. Gordon is having dialogue with the sound man.
Sound man - It's too loud. Turn your amp down. I'm taking a feed directly into the PA.
Gordon - No you're not.
Sound man - Listen mate, your guitar sounds too...heavy. And it's way too loud. I've got the headline band still to do tonight so that's your lot for now. End of.
Gordon - I don't think you're understanding me. I can't hear a thing on stage.
Sound man (quietly digging at Gordon) - That's a blessing...
Gordon (serious) - What did you say?
Sound man - I said, don't worry about it! We'll sort it out during the gig. Next, bass!
Gordon - Hey! I'm not fucking finished here. Now get this sorted now or I'll be sorting you.
Sound man - Do one...
Narrator - Oh dear...
Gordon takes off his guitar. Billy and George block his path and physically restrain the guitarist.
Billy - He's not worth it. Tall one, do the right thing...
George - Or at least do it after the show.
Slippy - Don't look now, but I think we have company.
A large man opens the door of the venue and a shorter man smoking a cigar, enters.
He speaks to the larger man - a stone faced male who looks like a body guard - as he sees Billy and George still holding onto Gordon.
Male - That's what I like to see. Team spirit in a band. A band that won't give up the goose chase. That's good, Mick. Any band that's man enough for a cuddle is alright with me.
Slippy (whispers) - Fuck, it's Gerry Francis!
Narrator - It's true. This guy was the spit of the former England football captain and renowned pigeon fancier. Right down to the bloody awful mullet and the splatters of shite on his shoes.
Man wipes his soiled shoe on the edge of an table causing the band to wince. He introduces himself.
Man - Stan Wuzzard. I take it you've heard of me?
Gordon - Stain Wizard?
Billy - Aren't you a detergent?
George laughs and offers his hand. A wary manager takes it.
Wuzzard - From what I hear from Devon, you could be the next ....what are they called Mick? Softly Softly. Now that's a band I'd pay to see.
He nods, impressed. The band, looking at each other, aren't.
Wuzzard (to friend) - Mick, you know who'd love these boys? Reggie would.
Mick - Yeah Reggie.
Wuzzard - Pity he's doing a bit of bird.
Mick - A bit of bird.
Wuzzard - Fucking liberty.
The band look a bit bewildered.
George - So, what are you offering, Mr Wuzzard?
Wuzzard - Whoa boy! Don't be getting ahead of yourself.
Mick tuts.
Wuzzard takes out a £20 and puts it on the amp.
Wuzzard - There's a drink but before I get into bed with you, I want to know if you and I are coming from the same hymn sheet.
Mick - Hymn sheet.
Wuzzard - I need to see if you've got a bit of the old showbiz....pzazz!
Mick - Pzazz.
Wuzzard - I need you boys to do a bit more of this...
Wuzzard starts dancing like a sad uncle. He urges Mick to join in which he does, reluctantly.
Slippy starts playing a beat.
Wuzzard - Yeah! Cooking. Smells good.
Narrator - I smell....disaster.
Wuzzard - Impress me tonight and we might have a deal.
Narrator - Say hello to Reggie. You mental cunt.
Wuzzard departs and the band look at each other in bewilderment.
Gordon - How fucking hard is it to find someone in this business who's not completely deranged?
Slippy (laughs) - That was a bit weird.
Billy picking up the £20 note.
Billy - I think this is a fake.
George - Really? How can you tell?
Billy holds up the note. Instead of the Queen, it has a picture of Wuzzard on it.
Gordon - Just when you thought your day couldn't get weirder...
Narrator - And we've not even got to the gig yet...
Cut to White on stage. They're being watched by a decent if unenthusiastic crowd. But the microphones are too quiet and the guitar amps are feeding back. The band are gesticulating to the sound man to sort it out. The crowd are getting restless and Wuzzard is about to leave when the sound man cuts the sound completely, leaving the band in silence. He makes an announcement.
Sound man - Sorry about this folks. It seems we have a few technical issues. That's the end of White for the night, big hand for them (a small outbreak of applause)...we'll be back at 9pm for your headline act of the night, NME cover stars, Moleskin. (large cheer)
The band look stunned. Gordon takes off his guitar and makes his way through the crowd towards the sound desk..
Narrator (sarcastically) - Stop. Come back...
Billy puts his shades on.
Gordon heads straight towards the sound man who is surrounded by security.
Sound man (confident) - Are you really wanting a piece of this? Come on then!
Gordon walks up to him and head butts him. The sound man collapses in a heap. The crowd disperses as security approaches the guitarist.
Gordon - Sorry about the mess.
The security guard takes off his shades and cap.
Security - No worries Gordon. Tell the lads that Man Bat says hi...
He drags the prone sound man off.
Wuzzard and his bodyguard approach. George, Billy and Slippy make their way through the crowd to join them.
Wuzzard (to Gordon) - Didn't see much pzazz tonight lads but if you ever need a job, give Mick a call. We could always use a bit more muscle.
George - Mr Wuzzard, what did you think of the band?
Wuzzard - I liked your intros. Great intros. Loved them. And your endings, your outros, wow...yeah...intros and outros. There was just one thing wrong with them.
Billy - And what's that?
Wuzzard - They were too far apart.
He laughs, his bodyguard laughs. The band are crestfallen.
Wuzzard - You're just not...rock and roll enough for us.
Narrator - What the fuck? Our guitarist has just hospitalised a sound man. What do you want us to do? Napalm the venue?
Wuzzard - You've have got something but it's not enough. You're not as good as you could be. But deep down, you know that. Now, Moleskin? That's the future, lads.
Wuzzard walks off. The band are brushed aside as Moleskin arrive at the venue. Myra is with them.
Myra (distracted) - Oh hey guys! Good gig?
She doesn't hang around for an answer.
Billy and Gordon pack their cases and head out of the venue in silence. Slippy puts away his cymbals and is ready to leave.
Slippy - You coming?
George (sitting at the bar alone) - I think I'll have another then head off home.
Slippy leaves and George orders up another drink.
A long haired man approaches George.
Man - Hey fella.
George nods.
Man - Tough one tonight, eh?
George - You could say that.
Man - I caught your gig. Let me get these. (he pays for the drinks)
George nods
George - Are you an Aussie?
Jackson - Hell no mate! I'm a Kiwi. Jackson's the name...
They shake hands.
Jackson - How about you and me go fucking tonto tonight?
George looks at him and smiles. They clink glasses.
Cut to montage of Jackson and George hitting a number of bars, knocking back drinks, chatting up women, smoking weed, having a party, Jackson sitting strumming a guitar with a beautiful girl draped around his shoulders, a semi naked George singing and dancing with a semi naked woman. More drugs are consumed as the sun rises...
Jackson is cooking breakfast. George is lying on the floor with a girl.
Jackson - Right ladies! Everyone out.
Girl - I love you Jackson.
Jackson kisses her.
Jackson - And I love you too sweet pea but my missus is on night shift and she'll be home very, very soon. Thank you very much for the evenings entertainment but goodbye, farewell, auf wiedersehn and adieu!
George gets up.
George - Do you need me to split?
Jackson - Have you got work to go to?
George - Not today.
Jackson - Cool.
Narrator - Are you watching, Mr Wuzzard?
Cut to another montage of partying, drinking and carousing in bars, clubs and restaurants.
Narrator - Rock and roll enough for you, Mr Wuzzard?
Cut to George lying on a sofa with his head in a girls lap.
George (sleepily) - What time is it?
Jackson - It's quarter to five. Need to be somewhere?
George - Nah. I've got (whispers) an appointment on Saturday night and rehearsals on Sunday and Monday but that's about it.
Jackson - What time is the one on Monday?
George - 5pm. Why?
Jackson - We might still make that. Better grab your coat and your strides.
Narrator - Oh shit!
Cut to montage of George and Jackson bunking onto the tube and running for the train, Jackson opens up a half bottle of Scotch and they share it before rushing to change for another train. Someone stops Jackson and asks for an autograph.
Narrator - That's strange...
Cut to the Endurance studios. George and Jackson run in.
Snuggly - If it isn't Action Jackson himself??
Jackson - Alright Snuggly mate!
George - You know each other?
Snuggly - You could say that.
Jackson - Occasional work mates. Amongst other things.
Snuggly laughs.
Jackson - You don't have any tea on the go, do you mate?
Snuggly - Coming right up.
George walks into the rehearsal room.
Slippy and Billy are working on a groove. Gordon isn't there.
George - Sorry guys. I just lost track of time...
Billy puts his bass down and grabs George by the collar.
Billy - It's time you got your head out of your fucking arse.
George (startled) - What the fuck?
Billy - This band is falling to pieces and all you can think about is going off on one?
George - Calm the fucking ham, ya bam.
Slippy gets in between the two.
Slippy - Both of you calm the fuck down.
George (contrite) - Look... I fucked up. But I am committed to this band.
Billy - You've got a fucking strange way of showing it. You spend more time getting off your tits than working on material. Tell me this, when was the last time you brought something fresh to the table, eh?
George (getting angry) - Well, I don't see you coming up with the goods. You've been working on the same song for nearly 2 years! And you've got a cheek to talk about me partying. You're never away from the World's End and that bar maid chick.
Billy (angry) - Leave her out of this!
George - I didn't even want to fucking be here. London sucks fucking balls, man. It's a cunt of a place and it's breaking us. We're just another band that nobody is interested in. In Glasgow we had a following, radio play and the pick of gigs. Here, nothing. We've almost got to beg to play, we don't have a manager and we have to work for a living. I don't know why I listened to you.
Billy - Me? I didn't want to come here either! It was Devon, Slippy and Gordon that wanted it, so don't take out your shite on me!
George and Billy square up to each other again.
George - Where the fuck is Gordon anyway?
Slippy - He's in Berlin.
George - What?
Billy pushes George away and sits down on the sofa.
Billy - Him and a few guys he plays with went off to see them tear down the Berlin Wall.
George shakes his head.
George - No, run that by me again.
Slippy - What? You didn't know the Berlin Wall has come down?
George (dismissive) - Berlin Wall is down? Aye right you are. No, who are the guys he plays with?
Billy - A few guys he knows from work.
Slippy - TP and JT.
Billy - They jam together when we're otherwise occupied.
Narrator - Don't know why but suddenly I feel wounded, vulnerable. TP and JT? WTF?
Slippy - Anyway, we've got a band meeting scheduled for next Saturday. We can sort out what we're doing and where we're going then.
George slumps down on the sofa next to Billy.
Jackson sticks his head around the door and makes a gesture that suggests they go for another drink. George shakes his head and waves goodbye to his drinking buddy.
Narrator - Need to get a grip. And fast. Focus. The old order is changing. If you stand still, you get trampled down. Old certainties are no longer set in stone. Evolve or die, that seems to be the mantra. Winds of change are blowing, that's for sure. Anyway, what was that rubbish about the Berlin Wall coming down?
Cut to flat, George is speaking to an unimpressed Lucy.
Narrator - My mealy mouthed apology was falling on deaf ears. And that's fair enough. She deserved a little better than a cock and bull story from a waster like me. But she got the standard 'sorry' spiel anyway.
Lucy - Why didn't you call?
George - I didn't realise the time.
Lucy shakes her head.
Lucy (upset) - I sat in that restaurant for two hours. We've been seeing each other for 3 months. And I found you a full time job at Students House. And for what?
George - Wow! That's great Lucy. Thanks...
Lucy - You really expect me to believe you spent the weekend with a guy?
George - Yes. I swear I did.
Narrator - Slight bending of the truth doesn't constitute the waste of an oath, does it?
George - You'd like Jackson. He's a kiwi, like you. We spent the weekend jamming. He's got a band called the New Wanderers.
Lucy (looks at George, surprised) - You're telling me that you spent the weekend with Jackson Ace?
George - You know him?
Lucy shows George her collection of his albums.
George - Jesus...
Narrator - I knew there was something about him. Turns out he's only the biggest rocker in New Zealand. Played stadiums with Bowie and the Stones, no less. But here he was, in London, working as a temp in the mail room of a bank while trying to try to scramble gigs in local flea pits. Crushing. This is what we were up against. Even established rock stars were struggling to break into the London music cartel.
Cut to George knocking back a large drink as he watches Lucy sleep.
Narrator - To paraphrase the famous quote, where did it all go wrong, Georgie? Lucy's great but I'm not ready for this life of cosy domesticity, however appealing fresh bed sheets, cooked meals and warm towels feel. It always starts well. I can lay on the charm and make a girl feel like a million lira but in those long nights alone waiting for me to saunter back as if nothing's happened, that charm wears off like the gilded edges of a cheap watch. All style, little substance. And loyalty, once cherished is now cheap. Maybe that was starting to spill into the one aspect of my life that wasn't so easily duped, dumped or traded up; the music. Fighting with Billy, hearing of Gordon's covert musical liaisons, that's going to be a harder puzzle to unravel. No doubt about it, I...no, we have taken our eye off the ball. The question is, what if anything can we do to save it? Maybe the Wuzzard of Baws was right after all? Perhaps we were not as good as we could be? Some hard questions need to be asked. Firstly, do I want it enough? And secondly, what am I prepared to sacrifice in order to make it happen?
Cut to Billy in the electrical store. George walks in.
Billy - Youngster! How are you?
George - Alright mate. I'm sorry about losing the rag.
Billy - Me too. I was actually trying to get a hold of you.
George - What's up?
Billy - Follow me. (shouts) Errol! Cover for me for a bit, eh?
Errol - Sure thing Bill.
George and Billy walk to the Connaught Pub where Gordon is waiting.
Gordon - Sit down lads. Right you know I've been playing with TP and JT.
Narrator - Here we go. He's leaving us.
Billy - Tell George what you told me.
Gordon - I really enjoy playing with these guys.
George - So, you're leaving?
Gordon (incredulous) - No! What makes you think that?
George (confused) - If you're not leaving, what's this all about?
Gordon - I want to drop Slippy for JT.
Narrator - So George, what are you prepared to sacrifice?
End
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