Everybody Wants to Rule the World by George Paterson
Episode 20 - Coda
Opens outside of Presley's bar on Tottenham Court Road. George and Gordon are struggling to take in Billy's news.
Gordon (stunned) - Can I ask why you want to leave?
Billy looks pained.
Narrator - Years of painful rejection, followed by the bitter grind of a city that doesn't care had started to take their toll. This was not a decision Billy took lightly, it was something that he'd been struggling with for months. His search for the spiritual meant that he wanted more from life than what he was getting by being an itinerant musician. He was tired of the battling to keep up but most importantly, he felt that he could no longer connect with what we were doing musically. He appreciated that Gordon and I may feel differently but he hoped we'd understand his decision.
George - What are we going to do about the Powerhaus? It's only a couple of weeks away.
Billy - I'll fulfil my obligations.
Gordon - What if we get offered a deal? There is still plenty of interest. And with Towards Jerusalem's manager...
Billy - Look, I don't expect any favours or preferential treatment from this moment on. You've got to do what's right for the band.
George - There will always be a place for you in this band, Billy.
Gordon (offering his hand) - Absolutely.
The three members huddle.
Billy walks off with his bass leaving Gordon and George sitting on the bench.
Gordon sighs.
Gordon - 10 years I've been with him. I first hooked up with Billy the night of the Man City v Tottenham Cup final replay. He was so stoned that he couldn't remember which drink was his. So, he downed every drink on the bar, mine included...(laughs)...we had to fight our way out of the Victoria Bar that night. The next day at rehearsal, I was dreading what state he'd be in. In he waltzes, plugs in and blows my head off with a note perfect version of the Cowboy Song. Man...One thing I will say about the bold yin. He never stopped surprising me.
George - But him leaving has given us a real problem.
Gordon - I know but we'll think about auditioning some bass players after the Powerhaus.
George - No, it's not that.
Gordon - What is it then?
George - Who's going to help us lug all this gear back to Students House?
George points to 2 big PA speakers and amp.
Gordon - Bollocks.
Cut to George and Gordon struggling with the weight of the equipment.
Narrator - Goodnight bold yin.
Cut to council offices.
Narrator - Meanwhile, I had other challenges to face up to.
Plump woman - So, your landlord has kicked you out?
George - Yes.
Narrator - Not exactly true but an urban tent is no place to bring up a child.
George - And as you can see, this is causing untold pressure on my heavily pregnant wife (cuts to smiling Ricky, who waves through the window) and I. We desperately need a house. Can you help?
Narrator - Remarkably, she could.
Cut to George and Ricky standing in the doorway of their new house.
Narrator - OK, it was a duplex in Dagenham but beggars can't be choosers. And as I was sampling the debatable delicacies of the east...
Cut to Ricky trying to feed jellied eels to an unimpressed George.
Narrator - ... Gordon was heading in the opposite direction.
Cut to fancy hotel on the Algarve. A porter leads the way, carrying a guitar case. He opens the door...
Porter - Your room Sir.
Gordon walks in and opens the window on the balcony. The scenery is breath taking.
Gordon takes a deep breath, smiles and looks to the next balcony. JT is standing there, smoking.
Gordon nods and takes in the sun kissed vista.
Gordon - Hot enough for you, JT?
JT (snarls) - They don't need a drummer. They need a fucking lizard with forearms.
Narrator - With Billy bailing and Gordon going all Alan Whicker, there was nothing stopping me being in the bosom of my soon to be growing family.
Cut to bar. George is drinking at a ferocious pace.
Narrator - Nothing except this terrible thirst I have. A few months ago I was skipping and bouncing. But now? If truth be told, I'm a bit concerned. No. Scrub that. I'm terrified. The boy has got to become a man, and quick. This was my decision and my responsibility. I may have been carried on a tidal wave of emotion but it was all done of my free will. I loved Ricky and I wanted this. But what if I fuck up as a father? What if I can't provide for my family? After all, I'm just a lowly paid stiff with little chance of promotion. And that's before we get to the music. What if the bold yin's instinct was right?
George is getting increasingly more intoxicated.
Narrator - Since we formed, I'd never doubted for one minute that this band was going to set the world ablaze with our unique style and my swivelling hips. Until now that is. Billy's brutal assessment of our status blind sided me. I really didn't see it coming. Doubt was never a part of deal. Now, it lives in the lexicon of my languor. My armour has been pierced. As a fellow alcohol stricken compatriot once said, 'To see oursels as others see us!' Maybe I didn't see the signs because I didn't want to see them. When I was younger, I used to look at photos of bands in magazines and books and thought 'They look like they've got the perfect life'. Turns out that most of them hated each others fucking guts or were jealous of the guitarist because he wrote all the songs and was making more money than the rest. Our lack of tangible success meant that we didn't have the opportunity to grow to hate each other but Billy's departure, although not the catalyst, was one further layer of melancholy I was choosing to wear. One minute I'm the Rock, the next I've turned into the Ultimate Worrier.
Cut to angry Taxi driver dragging a semi conscious George out of his cab and a worried Ricky having to pay him.
Narrator - And as a result, my behaviour became less tolerable. As ever though, a distraction was never too far away.
Cut to Students House.
Snuggly, Suggs and Tone are looking at the staff notice board.
Suggs - Here George...you'll like this.
George reads the notice.
DRAW FOR INVITATION TO ROYAL GARDEN PARTY - TUESDAY IN THE KENNEDY MEETING ROOM -17.00.
George - What's that all about?
Snuggly - Normally, the directors take the invitations themselves but in their infinite wisdom, have decreed that all departments will be entered into a draw for tickets.
George - That's a stupid idea.
Tone - I quite fancy a little trip to Buck House.
Suggs - Relax. It won't be any of us. Can you imagine their faces if we rocked up?
The group laugh.
Narrator - The real reason they decided on the more democratic route was because Jocky threatened to tell the press where last years profits went. (cut to yacht in harbour) And precisely where the profits were moored...
Cut to Kennedy Room.
Director - Let's get this over with. Three invitations, one each from Conference and Catering, one from Programme. Accounts have decided to forgo their chance.
Jocky looks and smiles at the unimpressed Accounting department. The chef pulls out the first name.
Director - First out is Rina from Catering.
The elderly cashier is delighted. Marky looks disappointed.
Director - Next is Val from Programming. And finally, surely some mistake...
Jocky looks at the ticket.
Jocky - No mistake Sir.
Director (disbelief) - Third is George from Conference?
A gasp goes up. Tone and Suggs let out a guffaw.
George (audible) - Fucking hell!
Cut to morning in the family home.
A heavily pregnant Ricky is straightening George's tie.
Ricky - Promise me one thing.
George - Name it.
Ricky - Don't be bothering the Queen. She probably doesn't like rock music. Or Celtic.
George - OK then. I promise.
Ricky - Also, we've got to talk about my father's offer later so don't come home drunk again. Please?
George leaving the house.
George - That's two things!
Narrator - Oh yeah, Ricky's father had made me an offer that I was too drunk to consider, never mind refuse. Anyway, I digress...
Cut to George at Students House with Tone and Suggs.
Narrator - I've been a fan of the Beatles since I was a kid. And if it was good enough for them...
Tone puts down some powder and Suggs lights up a spliff.
Cut to George at Buckingham Palace with his colleagues.
Val - Are you alright?
George's eyes are glazed.
George - Where's the Queen? I've got something for her.
Cut to roof. Snipers are in contact with security on the ground.
Radio - Long haired male heading towards HM. Approach with caution.
George spots the Royal Party. He reaches into his pocket as he approaches the Queen.
Two top hatted security men spin in and lift George by the elbows away.
Security - Take your hand out slowly son...
George removes hand to show one complimentary ticket for White at the Powerhaus.
Narrator - She looked as if she could do with a bit of cheering up. That's what the ticket was for. Lady Diana was there that day too. If I'd have seen her, I'd definitely have given her one.
Cut to Taxi pulling up at George's house. A disappointed Ricky is already waiting with the money for the driver.
Narrator - I've heard it said that Man must embark on a process of self-discovery in which he uncovers his Divine nature. And from the looks of it, I've still got a bit further to go...but first....
Cut to the Powerhaus, back stage.
George - Are you sure you're up for this?
Billy nods as he tunes up.
Billy - Errol from the shop is going to be videoing it.
George (fixing the collar of his suit jacket) - Cool.
Billy - Nice suit.
George - What do you think about Switzerland?
Billy - Toblerone. Mountains. Death.
George - That's what I thought.
Gordon and JT walk in.
Gordon - Sorry we're late.
Billy - Sun tan!
Gordon - Good to see some lilywhite Scottish men.
JT - Aye, there's only so many toned and tanned bodies one can look at.
Billy - Must have been fun.
JT (sucking the life out of a cigarette) - It was so much fun that my posterior disengaged from the remainder of my body and has moved to a new post code.
George - That'll be a yes then?
JT - Put it this way, the big man was in some actress until the council received complaints from the other guests about the smell.
Gordon - And that's enough Postcards from the Edge for one night. Shall we, gentlemen?
Billy - One more for the road.
Narrator - Live. Without the aid of a safety net...
Band are very tight but the audience isn't as big as they hoped.
Narrator - We still have the footage of this seminal moment. If you ever see it, there's something you will notice. OK, Gordon and JT look Algarve healthy but despite the dark tan yin enjoying himself (cut to Gordon letting rip) it is evident that we aren't the all for one, one for all musketeers anymore.
The band end and Billy lifts his bass to the heavens. Gordon and JT head backstage while George goes to the little private corner of the bar, hidden from the audience.
George - Seven pints of Tennents Extra.
The bar man lines up the pints. George starts downing them.
George is sinking pint after pint when he hears a familiar voice from behind.
Voice – Is that the beginnings of a bald patch I see before me?
George turns round to find...
George – Devon!
They embrace.
Devon sees George’s smile.
Devon – That’s more like it.
George – What are you doing out?
Devon – Weekend pass.
George – But it’s Wednesday..
Devon – Ah. About that...
Cut to Devon walking out the front door of his open prison again.
Narrator – Seems that Her Majesty’s security is very liquid and only applies in person.
The rest of the band enter the private bar area.
Billy – There’s George...Devon!!!!!!!! What the...
The rest of the band welcome back their estranged manager.
Gordon – So, are you back to lead us to the promised land?
Devon – No but I am going to set my people free.
JT (peering around Gordon) – So you’re Devon. I’ve heard average things about you.
Devon – Charmed, I’m sure. Anyway, I’ve been contacted by a certain Mr Alistair Mair and he’s asked for my permission to talk to you.
Gordon – Not that he needs it.
Devon – True but I did give him my blessing. I can’t take you there. But he can.
The band raise their glasses.
Devon – Right, who’s up for a night of festivities at Myra’s?
The band look at their watches, look in other directions...
Gordon – Eh...maybe another time...
Devon – What’s happened to you guys? Is no one willing to party like it’s 1985?
Cut to Devon’s car, driving fast down quiet road. Only George has taken up the offer.
Devon – I’m surprised you came, with the baby due and all that...
George – Yeah...will do me good to get out of the house.
Narrator – Out the house? I’ve hardly spent any time at all with my expectant bride.
Devon - If I didn’t know better I’d say you were scared, even terrified at the prospect.
George – Ehh...ummm...maybe.
Devon – Like the song says...’You’ve got a good thing going’. Don’t mess it up.
George – I won’t. But tonight...
Devon – Tonight, we party.
Narrator – Who knows what tomorrow brings?
Devon – Fancy a little bit of Charlie Chizzle?
George – Why not?
Devon – It’s in a hidden compartment near the gear stick.
George searches but can’t find it.
Devon stretches down and feels around....
Devon – Here...(click)... reach in there.
George – Devon!!
The sound of metal upon metal as Devon’s car collides head on with another.
Cut to the inside of the car. Both Devon and George are injured but are still conscious.
Devon – George! Are you alright? (he goes to move) Aaarrgghhh...
George (spits blood out) - How’s my face?
George laughs nervously as he drags himself out of the passenger seat.
Devon and George get out of the car. The passengers of the other car get out at the same time. They are
equally shaken up.
Devon – Are you guys ok?
Driver – Yeah mate. Are you?
Devon – We’re alright. Are you alright?
Driver and his passengers confer.
Driver – We’re alright. Are we cool?
Devon – We’re cool.
The sound of a police siren in the distance.
Devon – The police should be here any minute.
Driver – Yeah. About that...
Both parties acknowledge each other before running off in different directions, leaving two abandoned cars.
Cut back to the Powerhaus. Billy and Gordon are talking at the now empty bar.
Billy - George said that he's got a new song you guys have been working on. Any good?
Gordon - Ehhh...
Cut to Endurance studio. George is going over a strange song with Gordon and JT. Fozzy looks on baffled.
George - And then it goes....'Hey doorman...where are you going with that frown...'
Gordon tries to follow and smiles weakly at his singer.
Gordon -What do you think, JT?
JT - I'm thinking you either pay me double to record this pish or you'll be using a drum machine to finish it.
Cuts back to the gig.
Gordon - Needs some work...
Billy shakes his head.
Billy - He has been drinking a bit too much recently.
Gordon - Tell me about it. JT has started calling him 'The Kettle'.
Billy - 'The Kettle'?
Gordon - Because he's always steaming.
Billy laughs.
Billy - What about this manager...sounds good?
Gordon - It's a very delicate balance. He's still got Towards Jerusalem but is after the next thing. Can't push too hard as he's the kind that might walk.
Billy - So what now?
Gordon - Jerusalem have a gig at the Marquee next week but here's the thing. There's an after show party at Simon Le Bon's stables in Wandsworth. That's when we'll make the move.
Billy - What about the youngster?
Gordon - I just need to make sure that he stays away from the bar before, during and after the show.
Billy (downing drink) - Good luck with that!
Gordon - Anyway, what have you been up to, bold yin?
Billy - I've been taking bass lessons.
Gordon laughs.
Narrator - Typical Billy.
Cut to front door. Bell rings then door opens.
Myra – Good God! What happened?
George and Devon enter and Myra tends to their wounds. George spies a bottle of Scotch and takes a large swig.
Myra - So, when's the baby due?
George - Last Monday.
Myra and Devon look at each other. They shake their heads before Devon pulls a wedge of notes from his pocket.
George - Prison treating you well?
Devon - Myra, call a taxi for Dagenham.
Devon walks George to the door. He's holding a tissue to stem the blood from his broken nose.
Devon - Listen, it's time to walk the straight line...
Narrator - Never a truer word...albeit from the mouth of a convicted felon.
George gets into the cab, looks out of the window at Devon.
Narrator - When Devon left prison, legally this time, he moved to Ireland and kept looking for the angle...the break...But it didn't come for him. I never saw Devon again. I still think of him often. And with great fondness.
Cut to cab dropping George at his house. He walks in to find Ricky sitting on the edge of the bed with her bag packed.
George - Now?
Ricky - Now.
George runs back out of the house and hails the taxi that he just left.
Cut to a hospital bed, Ricky wakes and looks at George, stretched out on a chair, cradling a new born baby.
Ricky looks at George and he's fast asleep, smiling with baby clutched close.
Ricky - When we get home, you really should speak to my father. He likes you. Honestly, he does. And he thinks that, since Gordon and Billy are doing other things, you should spend some time with him, learning the family business.
George is silent. Ricky notices that he's asleep.
Ricky takes the baby back.
Narrator - Sweet dreams are made of this. A precious moment in my life.
Cut to Marquee, Billy turns down George's offer of a drink as Towards Jerusalem arrive on stage to rapturous applause. They are watching from the wings.
Billy - My head is still thumping from your 'wet the baby's head' session.
Cut to large group of people in Suggs's flat. AC/DC are playing and George is surfing on an ironing board. It collapses under his weight. A large cheer goes up.
George - Lightweight.
Billy - Best to keep a cool head for the after show party. And the meeting.
George - What does a manager see in this? (pointing at the band). I mean, look at them and look at us. Without the big man and JT, they are pish.
Billy - Their fans like them plenty.
George (grumbling) - Achh...
The band come off stage and Gordon grabs George.
Gordon - You come in the car with me. We'll get 15 minutes with Alistair once we get there. He's definitely interested!
George - Why wouldn't he be?
Gordon - Are you coming bold yin?
Billy - Afraid not. But I'll be with you in spirit. Vaya con Dios boys.
Cut to the car..
Gordon - What did you think of tonight?
George - The beer was watered down.
Gordon - No, the show.
George - Great venue. You looked like you enjoyed it.
Gordon - This is not the time to get jealous. We can only get through to Alistair if you give him the best schmooze you've ever delivered. I need you to sell US to HIM. Remember, charm is the key.
George winds down the window and spits out.
George - Charm is my middle name.
Car pulls into the Stables. It is an impressive spread. People are milling around, a DJ is playing some jazzy, chill out music.
Narrator - Duran Du-fucking-Ran! Nice work if you can get it. Now, more importantly, where's the bar?
George walks around drinking, admiring the scenery.
Gordon walks over with Alistair.
Gordon - I'd like to introduce you to the singer of my own band, the guy I was telling you about. This is George.
George and Alistair shake hands.
Alistair - Gordon tells me that you liked Duran back in the day.
George - Yeah. Until they fucked it up..
Gordon (quickly interjecting) - Didn't you work with Duran Duran, Alistair?
Alistair - I worked on their '85 tour of the States. Minor role of course but...
George - Interesting...
Alistair - So, what did you think of the show tonight?
Gordon looks over at George with trepidation.
George - Where do I begin...
Narrator - This particular car crash was in slow motion and seven years in the making...
George - The best thing about your guys...was my guys.
Alistair - Oh...
George - Your singer is fine but let's be honest, he's not me, is he? He's good at what he does but what you need is a guy who can write songs, looks great and has a bit of a death wish. That would be me. But you would need balls the size of St Pauls to take us on.
Alistair looks at Gordon for help.
George - Well Alistair, how big are your balls?
Gordon - I think what George is saying is...
George - What I'm saying is that your band is pish and that you'd be a fucking idiot to turn down White to stick with them.
Alistair - Well...it was nice to meet you.
George - Likewise.
Alistair walks away, shaking his head.
Gordon - What the fuck man?
George slugs back his drink.
George - He'll be back.
Gordon - And if he's not?
George - Then fuck him. He's a moron if he can't see that we are superior in every department.
Gordon - But you need to play the game. Don't you fucking get that?
George - Fuck him and fuck playing games. I'll do it on my terms or not at all. I don't need it.
Gordon - Well I do. I want to play music and if that means occasionally playing footsie with some suit in order to get the deal, so be it. Damn it! How fucking close do we have to get? Answer me this...what do you want to do with your life? Continue to stack chairs for a living? C'mon to grips...
George finishes his drink and throws the bottle against the wall of the courtyard.
George - At least I'm not someone's paid help. See you on the other side.
George walks out and boards a night bus.
Narrator - This was an opportunity the likes of which don't come around every day. Or every decade for that matter. One rarely realises when defining moments are in the vicinity but as soon as I offered my unwarranted, snide opinion on this decent working group of musicians, I instinctively knew I was wrong. And worse still, I let down my friend. But I was sinking. In a pool of my own masochistic bitterness and insecurity.
Cut to George walking eating a bag of chips.
Entering his house, he throws his half empty bag of chips into the bin, takes off his jacket, washes his hands and lies down beside his wife and baby.
Ricky stirs.
Ricky - How did it go?
George - They loved us...obviously... but I don't think they're right for us.
Ricky - I'm sorry.
George - Ricky, what's the scene like over in Switzerland?
Cut to bar...
Gordon and George are sitting having a beer in silence.
George - When are you off to Europe again?
Gordon - Next week. But I'll be back in November. So, get working on those songs and...
George - I'm thinking of going to Switzerland.
Gordon - For a break?
George - Maybe a bit longer.
Gordon - Oh...
Silence.
George (insistent) - This isn't the end..
Gordon - Of course not.
George - I fully intend to be back regularly to record and to...
Gordon - Play?
George - That'll be a bit harder but I'll look for openings over there.
Gordon - Good.
George - So, we are clear.
Gordon - Crystal.
George - This is just a different approach.
Gordon - Switzerland, eh?
Narrator - November came quickly and with a renewed sense of purpose, Gordon and I fucking went for it.
Cut to George, Gordon, Billy and JT in studio.
Narrator - And the bold yin stepped into the breach to help us out while a content JT, flush from the Jerusalem tour did his bit without too much grumpy fuss. 30 songs in 30 days. Got the bones of our back catalogue tidied up and ready for press, should another Alistair arrive. And it was good. Hell, I even cut back on the booze which had one rather unexpected side effect...
George stands outside the bathroom door. Ricky is inside vomiting.
George - Are you alright in there, sweetheart? I've just made breakfast. Your favourite. Scrambled eggs.
Ricky - Bleurrgghhh....
Cut back to studio.
Gordon - Not again?
George nods.
Billy - Congratulations!
JT - You need to be putting that on ice for a while. Give the poor girl a fucking break.
Billy - When are you off?
George - Ricky's heading over with the baby on the 17th, I leave Students House on the 19th so I'll have 3 days to tie everything up before I fly out.
Billy - Have you told the guys in Scotland?
Cut to Brian and Donny sitting in Brian's kitchen.
Donny - Are you sure that's what he said?
Brian - Trust me.
Donny - Nah, you're wrong. It was definitely fucking Swaziland.
Cut back to studio.
Gordon - You'll be having a little light libation before you go all Lindt and Sprungli on us...?
Narrator - Abso-fucking-lutely.
Cut to montage of drinking, partying and dancing at Students House. Marky, Suggs and Jocky spray beer towards George as he dances on a table. Joey and Catey bring in a large cake and put it on a long bar table.
George - Really? For me?
Jocky - You know you want to.
Suggs and Tone (chant)...George...George...George...whoops George!!!
George - I'm touched.
He takes a flying leap and lands in the cake sending residue flying everywhere.
Marky - Farewell, Gateau Blaster.
Narrator - Everything dies. Fades. Turns to dust. Except for memories. And cake.
Cut to George looking around before turning the lights off in his empty house. He locks the door, puts the keys through the letterbox and gets into the waiting taxi, clutching a bag and his guitar.
The cab pulls up to a restaurant.
Narrator - I could make some Last Supper quip here but it would spoil the mood.
George walks in and joins his band mates at their table.
Gordon (to waiter) - Chicken Pakora and a pint of Stella for the boy. Anything for you guys?
Billy - I'm good.
JT - Actually, I'm off.
George - Damn.
JT - Just wanted to make sure that you were definitely going. You are a drunken pain in the arse but ...
George (laughs) - But what?
JT - You were actually a very good front man. I enjoyed playing with you.
George gives JT a hug.
JT - Excuse me, I think you just dropped your gay card.
Laugh
JT - Seriously, all the best.
JT leaves Billy, Gordon and George.
Narrator - And then there were three. As it's ever been.
Cut to the trio laughing, drinking and reminiscing. Scenes of their earlier misadventures are interspersed with the stories.
George - And he had the biggest fucking hands!
Gordon - I chased the wee bastard around the van! I was going to kill him!
Billy and George are crying with laughter.
Narrator - It was Yeats who said, 'Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say that my glory was I had such friends'.
Cut to outside of restaurant, it is now dark. The trio brace against the cold night air.
Billy - I've got to split but here, I got you this for your move.
He pulls out a trappers hat from his bag.
George laughs and puts it on immediately.
He embraces Billy.
George - Thanks bold yin. For everything.
Billy - We had fun, didn't we? But don't forget, it's only over when it's over.
Billy heads off.
Gordon - What time's your flight?
George - I've got about 2 and a bit hours. So, I need to make a move.
Gordon - I'll walk you to the station.
Light snow is starting to fall, commuters are rushing towards the station as group of shoppers watch the carol singers under the sparkling lights.
Narrator - It's strange. Although I'll always be a Glasgow boy, London does get under your skin.
Gordon and George arrive at the station.
George - Well...that's me...
Gordon - I didn't get you a stupid hat but I did find this.
He removes a photograph from his pocket.
Gordon - Just so you don't forget your old mates.
George looks at the battered picture. It is a picture of the band soon after they formed, partying at Nico's.
Gordon - Remember that night? Look at Stevie's daft face...and I think that's Brian behind me, kissing some chick.
George (getting emotional) - Thanks mate.
Narrator - Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. Dr Seuss said that. He also said 'You have brains in your head and feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in whatever direction you choose'. And I chose this path.
George - Listen, I'm sorry about the Alistair fuck up.
Gordon - Don't worry about it. We'll get another chance.
George - You still think we can make it?
Gordon (with conviction) - Absolutely.
George gives Gordon a hug, boards the train and leaves for the airport.
Cut to the airport. George is looking out of the window as Christmas songs play.
Narrator - How did I get here?
He looks at the departure board.
Narrator - This is not my time.
Close up on George's eyes as the rain starts falling.
Pull back to the same eyes, more lined around the edges. Camera moves around to show a tiled bathroom. The room is steamy, there is someone in the shower. A portable radio plays in the background. The inanely cheerful DJ speaks.
DJ - And now for a classic from Softly Softly, here's 'Holding Back the Streams of Your Angelic Temptation'. Don't forget to tune into tomorrow's drive time show for a chance to win tickets to see their comeback concert at the...
The inhabitant of the shower growls and desperately tries to reach the radio which is perched on the window ledge. He fails to grasp it properly and the radio crashes to the ground, and cracks open, thus ending the broadcast of the song. The inhabitant of the shower growls again.
A towel, which has been hanging on the edge of the shower door is removed and wrapped around the bottom half of the inhabitant who is now shown to be a man in his late 40’s with cropped short hair. The man is clearly not in peak physical condition. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror, wipes the misty glass clear then begins to shave. He looks familiar but very serious.
Narrator – Fear and time. My mortal enemies. One I must defeat and to the other, I will undoubtedly succumb. Days like this are a constant reminder of this struggle.
Cut to a sparse room and the man is sitting on the edge of a seat, staring blankly into the middle distance. He begins to dress. The clothes he’s about to wear are sombre. A black suit and shirt. He looks in the mirror and brushes away some fluff and lint. He looks at himself sideways on, breathing in and out, checking his stomach. The time is coming up to half past seven.
Narrator - I will never get used to this.
He spots a skewed picture of his younger self with a couple of children. He straightens the picture and wipes a little dust from the top of its frame.
Narrator – Switzerland. I can see now that this wasn’t my finest idea. Thought it was at the time but what was that they say about the road to hell? Not that I’m saying Switzerland is hell. It’s a perfectly lovely place to stash ones ill gotten loot. It makes no judgement, does Switzerland. It doesn’t discriminate. Despot, dictator or diva, it will happily bury both you and your money. And in this case, my marriage too. But I can't blame Ricky or the Swiss too much for that. She was just a kid. We both were. Far too young and callow for such a responsibility. She didn't let our failure hold her back for too long. Once she stopped using the name Ricky, a misheard nickname that stuck, she reverted back to her real name - Regine - became a successful businesswoman, big house and all that. I think she's onto husband number 3 now but her spark, that inner glow is gone and I must take much of the blame for that. For my penance, I quit the booze, cleaned up my act and tried to be a decent man, albeit too late to save our doomed union. Going back to the my favourite Dr, the sweet Mr Geissler said, 'How did it get so late, so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December is here before I had June. My goodness, how the time has flewn.'
George spots another picture. It's the one that Gordon gave him as he left the country. George touches the picture.
Narrator - Sometimes, the most significant moments in ones life are right there in front of you, while you're waiting for them to appear.
George smiles, ruefully.
Narrator - I wonder where my old friends are now?
George looks in the mirror again and straightens his tie. He picks up an old guitar. He feels his way around the neck and begins to strum a few familiar chords.
An attractive woman in her 40's walks into the room and kisses George tenderly.
Woman (reassuring) - You're going to be fine, babe.
In the distance, the sound of a horn tooting.
George leaves the room and walks along a warmly lit hallway and down a staircase. On the wall of the staircase, there are numerous pictures of happy family life. Music is playing on the kitchen radio. A young female voice calls out.
Voice - Can someone get the door?
Another young female voice replies.
2nd female - I'm still making his sandwiches! You get it!
The first female goes to open the door and at the end of the driveway, two men get out of a mini van. We see them from behind but their voices are familiar.
1st male - Those hydrangeas are coming along nicely. A quite beautiful flower head. And that Hibiscus cutting we gave them has bloomed perfectly. He'll get some nice tea from that.
2nd male stops.
2nd Male - What the fuck has happened to you, tall one?
Cut to front view. It is Gordon and Billy, much older but looking well.
Gordon - That's simple suburban domesticity, bold yin. You should try it sometime.
Billy - Not a chance. It's taken us 20 years to get a place on the Highgate Coffee Morning Cake Council. And we're not about to give that up lightly.
Gordon - Indeed. What chance does one have against the might of the HCMCC?
1st female - Dad!! The guys are here!
Billy (excited) - Ooohh! Is that Cinnamon Carrot Cake, I smell?
Gordon - Hawl! One slice max. And a small one at that. We don't want to exceed the weight limit for the stage like we did in Somerset, now do we?
A little boy approaches.
Boy - Hi Belly. Hi Goblin.
Gordon gives him a high five and Billy bumps knuckles as George arrives.
Gordon - How are we feeling soldier?
George (confident) - Like a mean motherfu..
Woman - I don't think your son is ready to hear that kind of language.
George - Oops! Sorry.. OK, I'm ready.
Daughter No1 (handing over a food bag) - This is for the road, Dad.
Daughter No 2 (handing him a case) - And don't forget your guitar!
George embraces and says goodbye to his family at the end of the path as Gordon and Billy get back into the mini van.
Woman (smiles) - Watch out for those groupies.
George - With my shoulder and knees? See you next Sunday.
Gordon - Nearly 50 and he still can't fucking drive.
Billy laughs as he scoffs a piece of cake, Gordon honks the horn.
Cut to the family going back inside. George stops and looks back.
Narrator - There are bands who get together again for money. There are those who do it for status and for the lifestyle. That's not how it was for Billy, Gordon and I. It was always about the music and how some little tune could lift us or break our hearts while raising us to heights collectively that we were never able to reach alone. And sharing that music with the world, whether they fucking wanted it or not. The music. It was always about the bloody music. That invisible thread that linked us indelibly, regardless of where we went. And we went far and wide, only to find that what we wanted, what we needed was there all along. We just had to look up and see it. Right there. Our North Star. Someone asked me recently how I felt about the band not 'making it'. So I replied, define making it. If doing what you love with the people you love isn't 'making it', then I don't know what is.
The door frames George as he turns and looks back, like the final scene of the Searchers. The door closes.
George (to camera as he heads down the path towards the van) - When I was young, I thought that there was nothing worse than seeing old guys rocking out. Now, I know that there is nothing better. The wisest of them all once said, There is no path to happiness. Happiness is the path. We've been up. We've been down. We've been around. And we're still fucking here. So, if you have a dream, cling on to it with every fibre of your being, as if your life itself depends upon it.
Because life does depend upon it.
And remember...that North Star still shines.
The End.
Voice – Is that the beginnings of a bald patch I see before me?
George turns round to find...
George – Devon!
They embrace.
Devon sees George’s smile.
Devon – That’s more like it.
George – What are you doing out?
Devon – Weekend pass.
George – But it’s Wednesday..
Devon – Ah. About that...
Cut to Devon walking out the front door of his open prison again.
Narrator – Seems that Her Majesty’s security is very liquid and only applies in person.
The rest of the band enter the private bar area.
Billy – There’s George...Devon!!!!!!!! What the...
The rest of the band welcome back their estranged manager.
Gordon – So, are you back to lead us to the promised land?
Devon – No but I am going to set my people free.
JT (peering around Gordon) – So you’re Devon. I’ve heard average things about you.
Devon – Charmed, I’m sure. Anyway, I’ve been contacted by a certain Mr Alistair Mair and he’s asked for my permission to talk to you.
Gordon – Not that he needs it.
Devon – True but I did give him my blessing. I can’t take you there. But he can.
The band raise their glasses.
Devon – Right, who’s up for a night of festivities at Myra’s?
The band look at their watches, look in other directions...
Gordon – Eh...maybe another time...
Devon – What’s happened to you guys? Is no one willing to party like it’s 1985?
Cut to Devon’s car, driving fast down quiet road. Only George has taken up the offer.
Devon – I’m surprised you came, with the baby due and all that...
George – Yeah...will do me good to get out of the house.
Narrator – Out the house? I’ve hardly spent any time at all with my expectant bride.
Devon - If I didn’t know better I’d say you were scared, even terrified at the prospect.
George – Ehh...ummm...maybe.
Devon – Like the song says...’You’ve got a good thing going’. Don’t mess it up.
George – I won’t. But tonight...
Devon – Tonight, we party.
Narrator – Who knows what tomorrow brings?
Devon – Fancy a little bit of Charlie Chizzle?
George – Why not?
Devon – It’s in a hidden compartment near the gear stick.
George searches but can’t find it.
Devon stretches down and feels around....
Devon – Here...(click)... reach in there.
George – Devon!!
The sound of metal upon metal as Devon’s car collides head on with another.
Cut to the inside of the car. Both Devon and George are injured but are still conscious.
Devon – George! Are you alright? (he goes to move) Aaarrgghhh...
George (spits blood out) - How’s my face?
George laughs nervously as he drags himself out of the passenger seat.
Devon and George get out of the car. The passengers of the other car get out at the same time. They are
equally shaken up.
Devon – Are you guys ok?
Driver – Yeah mate. Are you?
Devon – We’re alright. Are you alright?
Driver and his passengers confer.
Driver – We’re alright. Are we cool?
Devon – We’re cool.
The sound of a police siren in the distance.
Devon – The police should be here any minute.
Driver – Yeah. About that...
Both parties acknowledge each other before running off in different directions, leaving two abandoned cars.
Cut back to the Powerhaus. Billy and Gordon are talking at the now empty bar.
Billy - George said that he's got a new song you guys have been working on. Any good?
Gordon - Ehhh...
Cut to Endurance studio. George is going over a strange song with Gordon and JT. Fozzy looks on baffled.
George - And then it goes....'Hey doorman...where are you going with that frown...'
Gordon tries to follow and smiles weakly at his singer.
Gordon -What do you think, JT?
JT - I'm thinking you either pay me double to record this pish or you'll be using a drum machine to finish it.
Cuts back to the gig.
Gordon - Needs some work...
Billy shakes his head.
Billy - He has been drinking a bit too much recently.
Gordon - Tell me about it. JT has started calling him 'The Kettle'.
Billy - 'The Kettle'?
Gordon - Because he's always steaming.
Billy laughs.
Billy - What about this manager...sounds good?
Gordon - It's a very delicate balance. He's still got Towards Jerusalem but is after the next thing. Can't push too hard as he's the kind that might walk.
Billy - So what now?
Gordon - Jerusalem have a gig at the Marquee next week but here's the thing. There's an after show party at Simon Le Bon's stables in Wandsworth. That's when we'll make the move.
Billy - What about the youngster?
Gordon - I just need to make sure that he stays away from the bar before, during and after the show.
Billy (downing drink) - Good luck with that!
Gordon - Anyway, what have you been up to, bold yin?
Billy - I've been taking bass lessons.
Gordon laughs.
Narrator - Typical Billy.
Cut to front door. Bell rings then door opens.
Myra – Good God! What happened?
George and Devon enter and Myra tends to their wounds. George spies a bottle of Scotch and takes a large swig.
Myra - So, when's the baby due?
George - Last Monday.
Myra and Devon look at each other. They shake their heads before Devon pulls a wedge of notes from his pocket.
George - Prison treating you well?
Devon - Myra, call a taxi for Dagenham.
Devon walks George to the door. He's holding a tissue to stem the blood from his broken nose.
Devon - Listen, it's time to walk the straight line...
Narrator - Never a truer word...albeit from the mouth of a convicted felon.
George gets into the cab, looks out of the window at Devon.
Narrator - When Devon left prison, legally this time, he moved to Ireland and kept looking for the angle...the break...But it didn't come for him. I never saw Devon again. I still think of him often. And with great fondness.
Cut to cab dropping George at his house. He walks in to find Ricky sitting on the edge of the bed with her bag packed.
George - Now?
Ricky - Now.
George runs back out of the house and hails the taxi that he just left.
Cut to a hospital bed, Ricky wakes and looks at George, stretched out on a chair, cradling a new born baby.
Ricky looks at George and he's fast asleep, smiling with baby clutched close.
Ricky - When we get home, you really should speak to my father. He likes you. Honestly, he does. And he thinks that, since Gordon and Billy are doing other things, you should spend some time with him, learning the family business.
George is silent. Ricky notices that he's asleep.
Ricky takes the baby back.
Narrator - Sweet dreams are made of this. A precious moment in my life.
Cut to Marquee, Billy turns down George's offer of a drink as Towards Jerusalem arrive on stage to rapturous applause. They are watching from the wings.
Billy - My head is still thumping from your 'wet the baby's head' session.
Cut to large group of people in Suggs's flat. AC/DC are playing and George is surfing on an ironing board. It collapses under his weight. A large cheer goes up.
George - Lightweight.
Billy - Best to keep a cool head for the after show party. And the meeting.
George - What does a manager see in this? (pointing at the band). I mean, look at them and look at us. Without the big man and JT, they are pish.
Billy - Their fans like them plenty.
George (grumbling) - Achh...
The band come off stage and Gordon grabs George.
Gordon - You come in the car with me. We'll get 15 minutes with Alistair once we get there. He's definitely interested!
George - Why wouldn't he be?
Gordon - Are you coming bold yin?
Billy - Afraid not. But I'll be with you in spirit. Vaya con Dios boys.
Cut to the car..
Gordon - What did you think of tonight?
George - The beer was watered down.
Gordon - No, the show.
George - Great venue. You looked like you enjoyed it.
Gordon - This is not the time to get jealous. We can only get through to Alistair if you give him the best schmooze you've ever delivered. I need you to sell US to HIM. Remember, charm is the key.
George winds down the window and spits out.
George - Charm is my middle name.
Car pulls into the Stables. It is an impressive spread. People are milling around, a DJ is playing some jazzy, chill out music.
Narrator - Duran Du-fucking-Ran! Nice work if you can get it. Now, more importantly, where's the bar?
George walks around drinking, admiring the scenery.
Gordon walks over with Alistair.
Gordon - I'd like to introduce you to the singer of my own band, the guy I was telling you about. This is George.
George and Alistair shake hands.
Alistair - Gordon tells me that you liked Duran back in the day.
George - Yeah. Until they fucked it up..
Gordon (quickly interjecting) - Didn't you work with Duran Duran, Alistair?
Alistair - I worked on their '85 tour of the States. Minor role of course but...
George - Interesting...
Alistair - So, what did you think of the show tonight?
Gordon looks over at George with trepidation.
George - Where do I begin...
Narrator - This particular car crash was in slow motion and seven years in the making...
George - The best thing about your guys...was my guys.
Alistair - Oh...
George - Your singer is fine but let's be honest, he's not me, is he? He's good at what he does but what you need is a guy who can write songs, looks great and has a bit of a death wish. That would be me. But you would need balls the size of St Pauls to take us on.
Alistair looks at Gordon for help.
George - Well Alistair, how big are your balls?
Gordon - I think what George is saying is...
George - What I'm saying is that your band is pish and that you'd be a fucking idiot to turn down White to stick with them.
Alistair - Well...it was nice to meet you.
George - Likewise.
Alistair walks away, shaking his head.
Gordon - What the fuck man?
George slugs back his drink.
George - He'll be back.
Gordon - And if he's not?
George - Then fuck him. He's a moron if he can't see that we are superior in every department.
Gordon - But you need to play the game. Don't you fucking get that?
George - Fuck him and fuck playing games. I'll do it on my terms or not at all. I don't need it.
Gordon - Well I do. I want to play music and if that means occasionally playing footsie with some suit in order to get the deal, so be it. Damn it! How fucking close do we have to get? Answer me this...what do you want to do with your life? Continue to stack chairs for a living? C'mon to grips...
George finishes his drink and throws the bottle against the wall of the courtyard.
George - At least I'm not someone's paid help. See you on the other side.
George walks out and boards a night bus.
Narrator - This was an opportunity the likes of which don't come around every day. Or every decade for that matter. One rarely realises when defining moments are in the vicinity but as soon as I offered my unwarranted, snide opinion on this decent working group of musicians, I instinctively knew I was wrong. And worse still, I let down my friend. But I was sinking. In a pool of my own masochistic bitterness and insecurity.
Cut to George walking eating a bag of chips.
Entering his house, he throws his half empty bag of chips into the bin, takes off his jacket, washes his hands and lies down beside his wife and baby.
Ricky stirs.
Ricky - How did it go?
George - They loved us...obviously... but I don't think they're right for us.
Ricky - I'm sorry.
George - Ricky, what's the scene like over in Switzerland?
Cut to bar...
Gordon and George are sitting having a beer in silence.
George - When are you off to Europe again?
Gordon - Next week. But I'll be back in November. So, get working on those songs and...
George - I'm thinking of going to Switzerland.
Gordon - For a break?
George - Maybe a bit longer.
Gordon - Oh...
Silence.
George (insistent) - This isn't the end..
Gordon - Of course not.
George - I fully intend to be back regularly to record and to...
Gordon - Play?
George - That'll be a bit harder but I'll look for openings over there.
Gordon - Good.
George - So, we are clear.
Gordon - Crystal.
George - This is just a different approach.
Gordon - Switzerland, eh?
Narrator - November came quickly and with a renewed sense of purpose, Gordon and I fucking went for it.
Cut to George, Gordon, Billy and JT in studio.
Narrator - And the bold yin stepped into the breach to help us out while a content JT, flush from the Jerusalem tour did his bit without too much grumpy fuss. 30 songs in 30 days. Got the bones of our back catalogue tidied up and ready for press, should another Alistair arrive. And it was good. Hell, I even cut back on the booze which had one rather unexpected side effect...
George stands outside the bathroom door. Ricky is inside vomiting.
George - Are you alright in there, sweetheart? I've just made breakfast. Your favourite. Scrambled eggs.
Ricky - Bleurrgghhh....
Cut back to studio.
Gordon - Not again?
George nods.
Billy - Congratulations!
JT - You need to be putting that on ice for a while. Give the poor girl a fucking break.
Billy - When are you off?
George - Ricky's heading over with the baby on the 17th, I leave Students House on the 19th so I'll have 3 days to tie everything up before I fly out.
Billy - Have you told the guys in Scotland?
Cut to Brian and Donny sitting in Brian's kitchen.
Donny - Are you sure that's what he said?
Brian - Trust me.
Donny - Nah, you're wrong. It was definitely fucking Swaziland.
Cut back to studio.
Gordon - You'll be having a little light libation before you go all Lindt and Sprungli on us...?
Narrator - Abso-fucking-lutely.
Cut to montage of drinking, partying and dancing at Students House. Marky, Suggs and Jocky spray beer towards George as he dances on a table. Joey and Catey bring in a large cake and put it on a long bar table.
George - Really? For me?
Jocky - You know you want to.
Suggs and Tone (chant)...George...George...George...whoops George!!!
George - I'm touched.
He takes a flying leap and lands in the cake sending residue flying everywhere.
Marky - Farewell, Gateau Blaster.
Narrator - Everything dies. Fades. Turns to dust. Except for memories. And cake.
Cut to George looking around before turning the lights off in his empty house. He locks the door, puts the keys through the letterbox and gets into the waiting taxi, clutching a bag and his guitar.
The cab pulls up to a restaurant.
Narrator - I could make some Last Supper quip here but it would spoil the mood.
George walks in and joins his band mates at their table.
Gordon (to waiter) - Chicken Pakora and a pint of Stella for the boy. Anything for you guys?
Billy - I'm good.
JT - Actually, I'm off.
George - Damn.
JT - Just wanted to make sure that you were definitely going. You are a drunken pain in the arse but ...
George (laughs) - But what?
JT - You were actually a very good front man. I enjoyed playing with you.
George gives JT a hug.
JT - Excuse me, I think you just dropped your gay card.
Laugh
JT - Seriously, all the best.
JT leaves Billy, Gordon and George.
Narrator - And then there were three. As it's ever been.
Cut to the trio laughing, drinking and reminiscing. Scenes of their earlier misadventures are interspersed with the stories.
George - And he had the biggest fucking hands!
Gordon - I chased the wee bastard around the van! I was going to kill him!
Billy and George are crying with laughter.
Narrator - It was Yeats who said, 'Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say that my glory was I had such friends'.
Cut to outside of restaurant, it is now dark. The trio brace against the cold night air.
Billy - I've got to split but here, I got you this for your move.
He pulls out a trappers hat from his bag.
George laughs and puts it on immediately.
He embraces Billy.
George - Thanks bold yin. For everything.
Billy - We had fun, didn't we? But don't forget, it's only over when it's over.
Billy heads off.
Gordon - What time's your flight?
George - I've got about 2 and a bit hours. So, I need to make a move.
Gordon - I'll walk you to the station.
Light snow is starting to fall, commuters are rushing towards the station as group of shoppers watch the carol singers under the sparkling lights.
Narrator - It's strange. Although I'll always be a Glasgow boy, London does get under your skin.
Gordon and George arrive at the station.
George - Well...that's me...
Gordon - I didn't get you a stupid hat but I did find this.
He removes a photograph from his pocket.
Gordon - Just so you don't forget your old mates.
George looks at the battered picture. It is a picture of the band soon after they formed, partying at Nico's.
Gordon - Remember that night? Look at Stevie's daft face...and I think that's Brian behind me, kissing some chick.
George (getting emotional) - Thanks mate.
Narrator - Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. Dr Seuss said that. He also said 'You have brains in your head and feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in whatever direction you choose'. And I chose this path.
George - Listen, I'm sorry about the Alistair fuck up.
Gordon - Don't worry about it. We'll get another chance.
George - You still think we can make it?
Gordon (with conviction) - Absolutely.
George gives Gordon a hug, boards the train and leaves for the airport.
Cut to the airport. George is looking out of the window as Christmas songs play.
Narrator - How did I get here?
He looks at the departure board.
Narrator - This is not my time.
Close up on George's eyes as the rain starts falling.
Pull back to the same eyes, more lined around the edges. Camera moves around to show a tiled bathroom. The room is steamy, there is someone in the shower. A portable radio plays in the background. The inanely cheerful DJ speaks.
DJ - And now for a classic from Softly Softly, here's 'Holding Back the Streams of Your Angelic Temptation'. Don't forget to tune into tomorrow's drive time show for a chance to win tickets to see their comeback concert at the...
The inhabitant of the shower growls and desperately tries to reach the radio which is perched on the window ledge. He fails to grasp it properly and the radio crashes to the ground, and cracks open, thus ending the broadcast of the song. The inhabitant of the shower growls again.
A towel, which has been hanging on the edge of the shower door is removed and wrapped around the bottom half of the inhabitant who is now shown to be a man in his late 40’s with cropped short hair. The man is clearly not in peak physical condition. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror, wipes the misty glass clear then begins to shave. He looks familiar but very serious.
Narrator – Fear and time. My mortal enemies. One I must defeat and to the other, I will undoubtedly succumb. Days like this are a constant reminder of this struggle.
Cut to a sparse room and the man is sitting on the edge of a seat, staring blankly into the middle distance. He begins to dress. The clothes he’s about to wear are sombre. A black suit and shirt. He looks in the mirror and brushes away some fluff and lint. He looks at himself sideways on, breathing in and out, checking his stomach. The time is coming up to half past seven.
Narrator - I will never get used to this.
He spots a skewed picture of his younger self with a couple of children. He straightens the picture and wipes a little dust from the top of its frame.
Narrator – Switzerland. I can see now that this wasn’t my finest idea. Thought it was at the time but what was that they say about the road to hell? Not that I’m saying Switzerland is hell. It’s a perfectly lovely place to stash ones ill gotten loot. It makes no judgement, does Switzerland. It doesn’t discriminate. Despot, dictator or diva, it will happily bury both you and your money. And in this case, my marriage too. But I can't blame Ricky or the Swiss too much for that. She was just a kid. We both were. Far too young and callow for such a responsibility. She didn't let our failure hold her back for too long. Once she stopped using the name Ricky, a misheard nickname that stuck, she reverted back to her real name - Regine - became a successful businesswoman, big house and all that. I think she's onto husband number 3 now but her spark, that inner glow is gone and I must take much of the blame for that. For my penance, I quit the booze, cleaned up my act and tried to be a decent man, albeit too late to save our doomed union. Going back to the my favourite Dr, the sweet Mr Geissler said, 'How did it get so late, so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December is here before I had June. My goodness, how the time has flewn.'
George spots another picture. It's the one that Gordon gave him as he left the country. George touches the picture.
Narrator - Sometimes, the most significant moments in ones life are right there in front of you, while you're waiting for them to appear.
George smiles, ruefully.
Narrator - I wonder where my old friends are now?
George looks in the mirror again and straightens his tie. He picks up an old guitar. He feels his way around the neck and begins to strum a few familiar chords.
An attractive woman in her 40's walks into the room and kisses George tenderly.
Woman (reassuring) - You're going to be fine, babe.
In the distance, the sound of a horn tooting.
George leaves the room and walks along a warmly lit hallway and down a staircase. On the wall of the staircase, there are numerous pictures of happy family life. Music is playing on the kitchen radio. A young female voice calls out.
Voice - Can someone get the door?
Another young female voice replies.
2nd female - I'm still making his sandwiches! You get it!
The first female goes to open the door and at the end of the driveway, two men get out of a mini van. We see them from behind but their voices are familiar.
1st male - Those hydrangeas are coming along nicely. A quite beautiful flower head. And that Hibiscus cutting we gave them has bloomed perfectly. He'll get some nice tea from that.
2nd male stops.
2nd Male - What the fuck has happened to you, tall one?
Cut to front view. It is Gordon and Billy, much older but looking well.
Gordon - That's simple suburban domesticity, bold yin. You should try it sometime.
Billy - Not a chance. It's taken us 20 years to get a place on the Highgate Coffee Morning Cake Council. And we're not about to give that up lightly.
Gordon - Indeed. What chance does one have against the might of the HCMCC?
1st female - Dad!! The guys are here!
Billy (excited) - Ooohh! Is that Cinnamon Carrot Cake, I smell?
Gordon - Hawl! One slice max. And a small one at that. We don't want to exceed the weight limit for the stage like we did in Somerset, now do we?
A little boy approaches.
Boy - Hi Belly. Hi Goblin.
Gordon gives him a high five and Billy bumps knuckles as George arrives.
Gordon - How are we feeling soldier?
George (confident) - Like a mean motherfu..
Woman - I don't think your son is ready to hear that kind of language.
George - Oops! Sorry.. OK, I'm ready.
Daughter No1 (handing over a food bag) - This is for the road, Dad.
Daughter No 2 (handing him a case) - And don't forget your guitar!
George embraces and says goodbye to his family at the end of the path as Gordon and Billy get back into the mini van.
Woman (smiles) - Watch out for those groupies.
George - With my shoulder and knees? See you next Sunday.
Gordon - Nearly 50 and he still can't fucking drive.
Billy laughs as he scoffs a piece of cake, Gordon honks the horn.
Cut to the family going back inside. George stops and looks back.
Narrator - There are bands who get together again for money. There are those who do it for status and for the lifestyle. That's not how it was for Billy, Gordon and I. It was always about the music and how some little tune could lift us or break our hearts while raising us to heights collectively that we were never able to reach alone. And sharing that music with the world, whether they fucking wanted it or not. The music. It was always about the bloody music. That invisible thread that linked us indelibly, regardless of where we went. And we went far and wide, only to find that what we wanted, what we needed was there all along. We just had to look up and see it. Right there. Our North Star. Someone asked me recently how I felt about the band not 'making it'. So I replied, define making it. If doing what you love with the people you love isn't 'making it', then I don't know what is.
The door frames George as he turns and looks back, like the final scene of the Searchers. The door closes.
George (to camera as he heads down the path towards the van) - When I was young, I thought that there was nothing worse than seeing old guys rocking out. Now, I know that there is nothing better. The wisest of them all once said, There is no path to happiness. Happiness is the path. We've been up. We've been down. We've been around. And we're still fucking here. So, if you have a dream, cling on to it with every fibre of your being, as if your life itself depends upon it.
Because life does depend upon it.
And remember...that North Star still shines.
The End.
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