Episode 18 - Let's Get Lost...

 

Everybody Wants to Rule the World by George Paterson.

 

Episode 18 - Let's Get Lost...

 

 

Opens in Endurance Studios. The band is playing loud and tight.

Narrator - Sneaking around behind the back of someone you supposedly care about is a behaviour to which we'd grown accustomed over the years.

Cut to the drummer.  It's not Slippy but a large grim faced powerhouse of a man, locking down the groove.  The band are in sync with him.

George catches a glimpse of Fozzy looking from the control booth. Fozzy nods his approval.

Narrator - But however callous this betrayal may feel - and we do accept that this may not be our finest moment - musically, it's a no brainer.

The band stops and the drummer leaves the studio for a break.

Gordon - What do you think?

George (cracking open a beer) - I think I'm the greatest front man in rock.

Gordon - No, what do you think of JT?

George throws Gordon a can of beer.

George - He's not as good as me but at least he's Scottish.

Gordon shakes his head, catches the beer and turns to Billy.

Billy (sweating profusely) - We need to break it to Slippy.

George goes to throw a beer at Billy but he declines. 

Gordon - Agreed.  But when and where? We've got the Pegasus in Stoke Newington in two days.

Billy - Too early for JT.

George - OK, after the Pegasus gig and I've got just the place. Bold yin? Are you alright?

Billy towels down and groans.

Billy unbuttons his shirt and continues to sop up his sweat.

Billy - I need a bucket.

Gordon - 8 pieces or 12?

Cut to the Pegasus gig. A good crowd has arrived and the band are back stage.

Narrator - One remarkable thing about having a dietary regimen that consists mainly of fast food, drugs and alcohol, is how rarely one is sick.

Billy is lying on a sofa babbling, incoherently.

Slippy - Do you want some soup?

Gordon - We've got some soup for you, bold yin.

George (shouting as if Billy is deaf) - Billy want some soup?

Billy (groggily interested) - Soup, you say?

George (emptying a carrier bag on the table) - Chicken and Lentil, Tomato, Oxtail, Minestrone, Scottish vegetable...

Billy groans.

Gordon (emptying another bag) - Pasta fagioli, Bouillabaise, Bacon noodle, French onion...

The concerned bar manager pops his head around the dressing room door. 

Manager - Is he going to be alright?

Gordon - Who?

Manager - Your bass player. He looks pale to me.

George - Of course he looks fucking pale. He's from Rutherglen.

Manager - We can reschedule...

Billy roars.

Billy - Fuck off! I'm fine.

Gordon (to manager) - See?

Billy goes to stand up and collapses back into the sofa.

Manager - That's it, I'm calling it...

Gordon (pleading) - Look, this is a really important gig for us. Don't call it.

Billy (still on sofa, to George and Slippy) - This is what I want you to do...

Manager - You've got one song and if he's not up to it...

Narrator - Thanks mate. Two things. Could you heat up a tin of Mulligatawny for us? And you don't happen to have to have a spare length of rope, do you?

Cut to stage, band are playing and the crowd is appreciative.

Narrator - We always liked our sortee's to this under appreciated part of North London. Unlike the trendier central bars and clubs, venues like the Pegasus didn't judge a band by the length of their fringe or by how much suede they wore. As long as you gave it everything, they went for it. As for Billy...

Cut to Billy manfully battering away as the sweat pours from him.

Narrator - ... The bold yin's a warrior. Well, a centurion actually. In so much as he was very attached to his column...

Cut to close up of Billy's midriff. He's being held up by a length of rope, tied to a pillar.

The gig ends and the band stand at the front of stage speaking with admirers.

Slippy - So, what now guys?

Narrator - What now indeed, Slippy.

George - Meeting at Students House tomorrow night.

Gordon - Yep. We need to talk about what we're going to do next.

Slippy - We should talk about what we need to do now.

George - And that would be?

Slippy points to Billy still attached to the column.

Narrator - Anyone have a pair of scissors handy?

Billy (arms outstretched) - Lads, why have thou forsaken me?

Cut to Billy being held up by the band.

Billy - Any more of that Mulligatawny?

Narrator - And on the third day, he was better...

Cut to a building on a busy street in Central London. 

Narrator - This is Students House. Little did I know at the time but getting a job here would change my life in so many ways. Firstly, this hive of youthful enthusiasm was a conference centre that doubled as a mini hotel and gathering point for young students the world over. More of which later...My actual job began around 7am, which initially proved a bit of a stretch for a confirmed night owl like me.  I was charged with the set up meeting rooms for conferences, and then at 5pm, turn those rooms into study areas for all of the members of the house. In between, I spent my time here..

Cut to student bar. The barman - Rob - pours George (still wearing cowboy boots and a leather jacket but with a shirt and tie underneath) a pint.

Narrator - And best of all, it was heavily subsidised. Landed on my feet or what?

George - Rob, is it ok if we section off the back end of the bar?

Rob - No worries.  It's quiet here tonight anyway.

The group sit down at the table, as George pulls the dividing curtains for privacy.

Slippy - Not bad this, eh?

Billy - Let's get down to business.

George - I don't know how to say this...Slippy...but you're out.

Cut to Slippy.  He moves in as if to catch the words again. It begins to sink in.

Narrator - I've done some out there things over the years. Taken liberties and pushed the envelope somewhat. But little provokes as much retrospective guilt in me as this shameful moment. For what it's worth Slippy, I am sorry that I allowed it to play out like this. You were a mate and you deserved better...

Slippy gathers his belongings and with a nod to the band, heads off.

Narrator - Abbe Joseph Roux once said, 'We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence'.

The three remaining members stare at the table in front of them.

Narrator - Nothing can make up for what we've done but the edge will be taken off, as ever...

Gordon empties his pockets. He has around £10.  George does the same, with about £7. Billy adds another £12. 

Gordon - Question. How much subsidised booze can we buy with this?

Narrator - Answer. Enough.

Cut to a different area in bar, which is now more busy.

Gordon is admiring the pretty girls.

Billy (drunk) - So, tell me more about this place.

George (equally drunk) - Well...

Narrator - Formed in the sixties, the house now is one giant, incestuous love in. The staff, the patrons, it's all go in here. Beneath the outer veneer of respectability, you'll find a bunch of twenty something's who, to use the parlance of the time, are on one. Let me introduce you to my colleagues, friends and partners in crime. You already know our seasonal porter cum Don Gorgon reggae champion, Snuggly...(cut to Snuggly ordering and downing various concoctions). 

Snuggly - Rob!  Give me a Bacardi, Pernod and Irn Bru!

Narrator - He's an adventurous but inexperienced boozer.

Cut to Snuggly lying down by the window, cuddling his glass.

Narrator - Stick to tea, old boy. Then there's the kitchen crew. Jocky (cut to chubby chef in whites) and Cate, his long suffering spouse. He's a lovely bloke. Until he hits the Scotch,

that is. That's when the psychotic edge kicks in and Bruce Banner becomes a little red Hulk. 

Cut to Jocky swinging a chair around his head before being wrestled to the ground. Cate shakes her head.

Narrator - His apprentices in the kitchen underworld are Marky, a blonde teenage maniac (cut to giant chef leaping onto tables and air drumming to the sound of The Charlatans, 'The Only one I Know'), Stevie (cuts to man standing behind counter with his hands down his trousers) 

Customer - Can I have some puff pastry with my pie?

Stevie - Of course you can!

He pulls his hands from his trousers, sniffs them then picks up a piece of pie.

Narrator - Then there's Joey, a silent goth in an overcoat. She's popular for three reasons.  One, she's pretty. Two, she cooks the best chili in town. And three, she supplies the staff with whatever pharmaceuticals they require.

Cut to Joey opening up her heavy coat to reveal a number of clear bags filled with pills and powder.

Narrator - And finally, my colleagues in the conference department, Suggs and Tone. Like an edgy, chemically enhanced Essex version of Bros.

Cut to Suggs and Tone arriving at the bar. They acknowledge George simultaneously.

Suggs/Tone - George...George...George...George...Whoops George!

They laugh maniacally.

Narrator - Years of watching movies while stoned have turned these fellows into a two man, movie line tag team. Suggs in particular knows every single word of Rocky 3 and Top Secret.

Suggs (the smaller and friendlier of the two, approaches the table) - Hoots man!

George - Suggs, this is my band.

Suggs shakes their hands.

Narrator - These guys and the rest of the staff here will become more than mere work colleagues. The Students House guys became my brothers, my sisters, my lovers. My friends.

Slow motion look around the bar at the aforementioned characters.

Narrator - And for better or for worse, this place would become a second home.

Cut to the band, replete with new drummer JT playing in the Students House theatre in front of large and appreciative crowd.

Narrator - From the lows of the Bull and Gate, our Moleskin humiliation and the Slippy saga to the high of finding the right place at the right time. As some dead German dude said, from chaos comes order. Begging his pardon, I'd put it more as from shambolic cluster fuck comes renewed focus. Sorry Fred, I just don't have your way with words.

Cut to the band bouncing off stage, into the changing room with the crowd shouting for more. Suggs passes some beers to the guys. Jocky and Cate push them back towards the stage for the encore.

Narrator -  But unlike Fred, White, with our new sticks man, can rock.  Thus Spake Mich. And all of those lovely fans.

Cut to Studio. Band are setting up for a recording session. JT is tuning his drums and going through a warm up. Gordon motions to George and Billy to reconvene outside.

Gordon - Don't know about you boys but I want to take it to the next level with JT.

George and Billy look at each other in surprise.

Narrator - He's a bit more butch than your normal type, G?

Gordon - I want him to be a full member of White.

George and Billy look relieved.

Narrator - And breathe...

Billy - He can rock.

George - But does he roll?

Cut back to studio. Fozzy lines up the tape and shouts...

Fozzy - Rolling!

The band kick into the song 'She Loves It'.

Narrator - He can rock.  And he can roll...

Cut to after the recording session. The band are in conference with the drummer.

Narrator - ...but when you're a member of White, nothing is ever as easy as you think it's going to be.

Gordon - So, we'd like you to officially join the band.

JT's lips tighten around the cigarette he's smoking.

George - Well big man?  What do you say?

JT - I think I'll pass.

The band look stunned.

Narrator - Huh?

Billy - You don't want to join?

Gordon - I thought you dug the music.

JT - Aye, it's alright.  And I'm enjoying it. But...

Narrator - But?

JT - Can you pay me?

Gordon - What?

JT - I'll say it again.  Can...you...pay...me?

Billy - We don't have a recording deal.

JT - So you can't pay me? Fair enough. In that case, I'd rather keep my options open. I'll play with White, but should any paying work arrives, I'll be taking it.

Narrator - Welcome to the hard edges of the pro world, boys. Can't expect everyone to have the same dreams and desires as we do...I suppose.

Cut to band packing their gear away. JT drives off. Fozzy throws the band cassette copies of the demo they've just recorded.

George - He's still worth sticking with.

Billy - Even if he is a miserable big fucker.

Gordon - Agreed. So, anyone up for a little post recording drinkie poo? Fun time Friday at the Connaught?

George - Stupid question.

Billy - Not for me. Sorry lads.

George - Don't tell me, a Bunuel retrospective the Renoir?

Gordon - Or a Renoir retrospective at the Bunuel?

Billy gives the others the finger.

Billy - If you must know, it's the Urdu drum workshop in Highgate Arts Centre followed by an all night Floyd-a-thon light show at the Planetarium. 

Gordon - Of course.

George - What were we thinking?

Billy - The Bunuel retrospective is next week.

Billy laughs and leaves.

Narrator - Shine on you crazy bastard.

Cut to the Connaught Pub, Holborn. George heads to the bar for another round. Gordon remains at the table they've sharing with a few friends.

George (to barman) - Four pints of Holsten Export, a rum and coke and a whisky, rocks.

A man taps George on the shoulder. George turns around.

Man (with a Belfast accent) - You're from Glasgow, right?

George - Ehh...yeah?

Man - I love going to Glasgow.

George (shaking his hand) - Nice one mate, it's a great city...

Man - You a football fan by any chance?

George - Damn right I am! 

Man - Tell me.  Are you Celtic or are you Rangers?

George - Celtic man. All the way.

The man spits in George's face.

Man (growls) - You dirty Fenian bastard.

George reels in shock. 

Time stands still...

Narrator - What the fuck just happened?

Time catches up.

Gordon's fist crashes into the face of the man. He is knocked into the bar, bounces out again, stunned and a furious Gordon punches him again, knocking him to the floor. A friend of the assailant grabs Gordon by the back of the shirt but he swings around and punches him over a table, knocking drinks everywhere. George is still standing in shock. The atmosphere in the bar has turned from light and frivolous into something resembling a wild west saloon. One of Gordon's friends escorts him and George out of the bar.

Gordon (to George) - Are you alright?

George (shocked, wiping his face with a bar towel) - I think so. He...he spat in my face.

Gordon punches the door.

Gordon - Fucking prick. I thought we'd left that kind of shit behind in Scotland.

At this point, the landlord throws the bloodied man out of the bar. He notices George and heads towards him angrily. Gordon pulls him away before punching him hard, sending him flying through the door and back into the pub. Police sirens start to wail.

George - I think that this might be an opportune time to bolt.

Gordon - I concur. Let's get lost.

Narrator - Taxi!! 

Taxi Driver - Where do you want to go, lads? 

George - As far away from the 17th century as possible.

George and Gordon get into the taxi and drive off as the police arrive.

Narrator - There's an old story about an elderly Jewish guy in Glasgow. He's out visiting family when he's accosted by a group of thugs. They grab him and ask him what team he supports. He says he's not interested in football. So they ask him, are you Catholic or are you Protestant? Neither, he says  'I'm Jewish.' 'Aye, but are you a Catholic Jew or a Protestant Jew?' In my haste to acclimatise to new surroundings, I forgot the one basic lesson that has kept this face beautiful for so long. Always be wary of strangers enquiring about your background.  It rarely ends well. 

Cut to taxi heading towards Hampstead.

Narrator - Ah!  Civilisation. Drop us anywhere here, driver.

Cut to George and Gordon getting out of taxi and looking at a pub called 'The King William'.

Narrator - We can't win.

George directs Gordon towards the more upmarket bar nearby.

Narrator - Waiter service in a bar?  More like it.

George and Gordon find a table and a waiter takes their order. He returns with 2 beers and Gordon gives him £10.

Two very exotic girls approach.

First Girl - Are these seats taken?

Gordon - They are now.

George - Drink?

The girls confer then nod.

Gordon calls over the waiter.

Gordon - Another two beers. Use the change from that tenner to pay for it.

Waiter - Change?

Gordon's face changes colour.

Gordon (quiet but forceful) - Change. From the £10 note pal. 

The waiter instantly understands.

Waiter - Coming right up.

The girls don't look impressed.

Narrator - Rocky start. Let's take it up a notch.

Gordon - So, what do you ladies do?  Models?

Second Girl - We're air hostesses.

George (slugging his beer) - We're rock stars.

Their eyes light up.

First girl - I'm Amitra and this is Artemiz. And we don't like beer.

Gordon takes a wedge of money out of his pocket.

Gordon (to waiter) - Champagne!

The girls are now impressed.

George (whispers) - Where the fuck did you get that from?

Gordon - It's Norton's Coin.

George looks confused.

Gordon - I put my wages on Desert Orchid at Cheltenham.

George - I thought he lost...

Gordon - He did.

George - Jesus!

Gordon -  But I also had a fiver on Norton's Coin.  Each way. 100/1.

George (to waiter) - Make it two bottles!

Amitra (to Gordon) - Do you know Bon Jovi?

Gordon - Sure do.

The night continues, the girls sip their drinks as Gordon and George greedily quaff theirs.

Amitra (to Gordon) - So, tell me about Mr Jon Bon Jovi.

Gordon - You know, we've been out in LA, working with him on some new songs.

Artemiz - Is he alright?

Gordon - Apart from the lack of eyebrows, yeah he's pretty sound. Richie Sambora's a bit of a dick though.

Artemiz - Not him. George.

Gordon looks at George to see him fast asleep, head back.

Gordon - Ah...Jet lag.  That's that bastard Sambora working him too hard again.

The lights go up in the bar.

Narrator - That time already? I know a little place nearby...

All four are standing outside the bar. George has woken up.

George - All back to mine?

Gordon nods. Armita whispers to Artemiz.

Armita - I'm going to call it a day.

George and Gordon look disappointed.

Armita - I've got an early flight tomorrow (shouts) Taxi!

Gordon (kisses her hand) - Goodnight my Persian princess?

Artemiz (smiles) - The night is young...

Narrator - And so are we.

The girls talk as Armita gets into the taxi.

Gordon and George confer.

Gordon - She's mine.

George - Is she fuck!

Gordon - No woman can resist...the guns. (Gordon flexes his muscles)

George - She will be like putty in my hands. It's the pout, man.  And this body.  It was made for loving.

Gordon - You're delusional.

George - Maybe she wants to...double up? You know, tag team?

Gordon (shudders) - Fuck that. I draw the line there.

George - So, who gets her then?

Gordon - OK, we each take a seat and whoever she sits closest to, wins. The loser (points at George), backs off.  Deal?

George (thinks about it) - Sounds fair to me. Just don't be too disappointed when you're engulfed in wankers gloom.

Gordon (laughs) - We'll see about that. I'm still Don Gordon, the king champion.

The trio head into George's flat.

Artemiz - May I use your bathroom?  Need to powder my nose.

George and Gordon wait then make a dash for what they believe is prime seating location. George opens another button on his shirt and smells his armpits. He runs to the bedroom and sprays some aftershave on. Gordon too smells his armpits.

Gordon - Give us a little bit of that smelly stuff, eh?

George - No fucking chance. This is war.

Gordon goes into the kitchen and grabs some air freshener. He sprays it all over, nonchalantly.

Gordon - OK then, bring it.

Artemiz walks out of the bathroom, wearing a bathrobe.

Narrator - Game on.

Artemiz - Shall I pour us some drinks?

The boys nod.

Narrator - And open a window...either the temperature's rising or Gordon used too much Ambi Pur...

Artemiz walks up to Gordon and playfully grabs his hair.

Narrator - Bastard!

She gives Gordon his drink but doesn't sit down. She walks over to George.

Artemiz - And this is for you...

She sits down beside George and puts her arm around his neck.

Narrator - They think it's all over...

Gordon stands up, downs his drink.

George (smiling) - Spare room is over there big man.

Gordon draws him daggers. George flicks him a V sign.

George and Artemiz start fooling around on the sofa.

Cut to next morning.

Gordon is cooking breakfast as George wakes up. Both look very rough.

Gordon - Morning lover boy.

George (holding his head) - My fucking head. What did we do last night?

Gordon - Don't know about you but I was woken up by some moaning Persian.

George (smiles) - Told you! I AM the Don Gorgon!

Gordon - Hold your horses there, Champ.

Gordon takes George into the bathroom. 

George is agog.

Crudely written, on the walls and mirror with lipstick, are the words...

Drunken Scottish asshole!

The bathroom is trashed.

Gordon - You must have really made an impression on the girl.

George thinks...

Cut back to bedroom the previous night. George gets into bed as Artemiz does a seductive dance for him. George is lying on the bed smiling. She comes over to the bed and starts kissing his ear and neck, George still lies there, smiling. 

Artemiz - Tell me what to do. What do you like? I will do...anything...

George lies motionless.

Artemiz - George?

She shakes him. He snores loudly.

Cut back to the morning after.

George - Oh...

Gordon - Oh indeed. 

Narrator - Damn!  She could've been the one. What's not to like? Stunningly beautiful, intelligent and is desperate for some of Georgie's good stuff. But I blew it like Bon Jovi's eyebrow stylist. When will I ever...fucking...learn? Drunken Scottish Asshole? Well, the name Artemiz does mean 'truthful one' in Persian. To paraphrase the aforementioned chanter, a shot to the heart, and who's to blame? 

George - I need to get this place cleared up before Monday.

Gordon - Why?

George - I'm being moved out. The lease expired.

Gordon - So?

George - Well, I need the deposit for a new place.

Gordon - Isn't the lease in Devon's name?

George (realisation dawning) - You're right! Bollocks to it. Just need a new place to live. Hint?

Gordon - No danger!  But I'll buy you a pint...

Gordon empties his pockets out. There's a couple of coins and two £1 notes.

Gordon - Damn.

George - Damn indeed.

Gordon - You don't have a spare tenner, do you? Dead cert running today at Kempton Park.

Cut to George speaking on phone to Billy.

George - So, you don't think Devon will mind?

Billy - It's not your responsibility. You were doing him a favour by looking after the place.

Cut to flat in abject condition.

George - You're right.

Billy - Have you got anywhere else lined up?

George - Well now that you're offering...

Billy - Forget it!

George - I'm now down to my last resort...

Cut to Suggs's work flat. He shows George a kitchen area that is being refurbished. It looks like a building site.

Suggs - A little tidy up, put a bed in that corner and it won't look half bad. You can stay here as long as you want, man. Rent free.

George - Eh, thanks...

Cut back to the phone conversation...

Billy - Anyway, the flat is the least of his concerns.

George - How come?

Billy - A failed breakout last week might stop his early release.

George - Wow!  What happened?

Cut to Devon walking out of the main gates at his Open Prison, saying goodbye to the guard before heading into town.

Billy - They found him in Presto, 3 hours after his curfew, buying sausage rolls.

George - Fight the power. By the way, how did it go with Floyd at the Planetarium?

Billy (laughs) - The lunatics are on the grass.

Cut to Planetarium, everyone is smoking weed to the sound of Dark Side of the Moon.

George - Fancy a beer tonight?  Unless you've got something on. Like a Austro-Hungarian nose flute jamboree or a Mongolian poetry reading?

Billy - Diary is free tonight. Shall we hit The Bucks Head?

George - Cool. Meet at Students House for a quick one at half seven and we'll head off from there.

Narrator - Done.

Cut to Students House. It's 8.05pm. Billy's late. George is sitting at the bar.

George looks at the clock and shakes his head.

George - Better get me another beer, Rob.

Narrator - Strangest things happen at the strangest times. Especially here. Take this for instance...

Cut to Snuggly and George kicking a ball outside a Students House conference room. The board says 'Pan African Conference'. A huge roar goes up. They stop what they're doing and enter. The delegates are dancing and celebrating.

Snuggly - What the...?

He runs in. George stands and watches the scene of unbridled joy unfold.

George - What the hell's happening?

Snuggly - They've released Mandela!

George - I didn't know they had him.

Narrator - Back on track.  Where is Billy?

Cut to Tottenham Court Road, Billy is about to run across a busy road. A small Indian man stops him, shaking his head.

Billy - What's the problem, little dude?

Indian Man pulls Billy close. He looks deeply into his eyes.

Indian Man - You are a very lucky man.

Billy - Excuse me?

Indian Man - You are a very lucky man.

Billy looks at the man again.

Indian Man - Very lucky.

Cut to George looking at clock.  It's now 8.15pm.

George - Jesus...

Narrator - More like Buddha, Vishnu AND Jesus.

Cut to an intrigued Billy and the Indian Man in a pub, deep in conversation. A woman reading crystals is sitting with them.

Narrator - Back when I was floating between life and death in a hot tub, I became very aware of the serendipitous currents that surround we floating collections of carbon atomic molecules. It's known as many things. The ripple or butterfly effect, for instance. And while we're on a Persian theme, perhaps one could consider us a modern, drunken version of the three Princes of Serendip. Because right in the middle of cursing the bold yin, this happens...

Cut to bar. George checks the clock again, 8.27pm. A cheery, heavy set girl arrives at the bar smiles at George. He smiles back as her friends take a seat behind him at a table. 

Girl (heavily accented) - Are you here on your own?

George - I'm waiting for a friend.

Girl - Perhaps you wait with us, no?

She points to the table.

Narrator - Why not? What's the worst that could happen?

Girl - My name is Karin...(she offers her hand)

George - I'm George.

He sits down and is introduced to Monika...

Monika - Hi!

Anna - Hello George!

Karin - And this is Ricky...

Narrator - My heart stopped. Just like that. You know when you hear that nonsense about people falling in love at first sight? I never believed it was possible. For a guy like me, as shallow as a puddle of piss in Death Valley? Definitely not. Lust yes, attraction sure but love? Don't be silly...

Cut to George staring at Ricky, a petite girl with long curly hair, giant gypsy earrings and brown eyes. She smiles at George and takes a sip of her drink.

Narrator -Just couldn't take my eyes off her. I can remember precisely what I thought at this moment. It was a prayer actually. A little prayer to a God I'd shunned, ignored and taunted with my hubris. This was different though. If He could make a woman like this could fall in love with me, I'd never ask for anything, ever again. I swear it. I might even return to the fold but let's not get ahead of ourselves here. I don't know if she even likes me.

Cut to Ricky shyly looking over her drink at George.

Cut to bar, the time is now 9.50pm and there is a call at the bar for George. He reluctantly pulls himself away from Ricky and takes the call.  It's Billy.

Billy - Sorry mate, I got side tracked. The strangest thing happened...

George - Same here mate.

Billy - Rain check?

George - No worries bold yin.

Narrator - Now if Billy had not spent that extra time with his girl (cut to Billy's girlfriend pulling him back in when he was about to leave) he wouldn't have needed to dodge traffic. And he'd never have met the little Indian fella making it to Students House in time for us to have a beer and bolt before Karin, Monika, Anna and Ricky showed up (cut to George and Billy finishing their drinks and leaving seconds before the girls arrive). It's random electrical connections like these that drive the world and stop hearts, dead in their tracks.

Cut to Paddington Station, last train is about to leave. The other girls have gone. George is with Ricky. A lone busker is playing a Chet Baker song in the almost deserted station.

George (shy) - It was very nice to meet you.

He offers his hand.

Ricky (accented) - Nice to meet you too.

George - Can I see you again?

They are still holding hands. They pull closer.

The conductor blows his whistle, signifying the imminent departure of the last train.

She quickly kisses George.

Ricky(smiling) - Perhaps.

She runs to catch the train.

George watches the train depart and drops a couple of coins in the buskers cap as he catches his breath.

Narrator - Wow.

"Let's get lost, lost in each other's arms
Let's get lost, let them send out alarms
And though they'll think us rather rude
Let's tell the world  we're in that crazy mood.
Let's defrost in a romantic mist
Let's get crossed off everybody's list
To celebrate this night we found each other,

mmm, let's get lost."

End.