Episode 9 - There can be only one...

Everybody Wants to Rule the World by George Paterson - Episode 9 - There can be only one...



Opens outside cinema showing the film, Highlander. A sandwich board advertises the prices, 'Full adult -£3.50, Concessions/Unemployed - 50p entry!'


Voiceover - in style of Sean Connery ...From the Dawn of Time we came, moving silently down through the centuries. (Cut to cinema aisles bulging with assorted musicians, students and layabouts, stumbling around like cavemen) Living many secret lives. (Cut to crowd, trendy types in disguise engrossed in the 'uncool' film) Struggling to reach the Time of the Gathering, when the few who remain will battle to the last. (Cut to Gordon, Billy and George sitting in the middle scoffing food) No one has ever known we were among you...until now.




Narrator - It might not be our first choice...

Quick cut to flat, George, Billy and Gordon fight back the tears while watching the schmaltzy show, 'Highway to Heaven'.

Narrator - ...but, it'll kill a few hours on a Friday afternoon.

Cut back to cinema.

George (whispering) - Don't the Highlands look great?
Billy - They sure do.
Gordon - Didn't they film this in Spain?
George - The Highlands aren't in Spain.
Gordon - But if Sean Connery is a Spaniard ...
Billy - And Christopher Lambert is a Scotsman..
Gordon - Exactly.
George - We should tour there.
Billy - Where? Spain?




Narrator - There can be only one... if you don't count the sequels, TV shows and cartoons. But the rugged landscape of Scotland (or was it Spain?) was calling. And as certain doors in Glasgow were getting slammed in our faces, it might be prudent to take the circus on the road.

Cut to Devon's flat.

Devon - Are you sure you want to do this? Touring is a pain in the arse and even if you had a disc to promote, it's very costly...
Billy - The road is calling us, man. What can you do?
Devon - Well, I have contacts, on the West Coast mainly...but we could hit the East Coast if budgets allow.
Narrator - Ah, San Francisco and Los Angeles...then across the continent to Chicago, Philly and New Fucking York!
Devon - We might go as far as Aberdeen but I can't promise anything at this stage.
Narrator - The sound of air deflating from a balloon is becoming the defining sound of our musical careers...
Gordon - As we're going on the road Devon, can we now afford a roadie?
George - We could do with a keyboard player actually.
Narrator - Suddenly the heavens broke...
Gordon (assertively) - We don't need a keyboard player.
Billy - All of our recordings have piano on them.
Gordon - Recordings, yes. But stuck in a van with a keyboard player going all fucking Rick Wakeman or Howard Jones? Bollocks to that. I hate keyboard players more than I hate drummers and I fucking despise drummers. No offence Jim.
Jim, sitting on the couch, looks up from his comic.
Jim - None taken. (whispers) Wank.
George - But look at the music you've been listening to recently...Van Halen, Robert Palmer, INXS...Go fucking West for Chrissakes...they all have made use of keyboards.
Billy - It would make our set a bit more versatile...gives us a bit more colour.
Devon - Makes sense.
Gordon (groans) - Right. But no fucking synths, no stoners, no jazzers and no prog rockers, those are my conditions.
George - Sounds fair.
Billy - Now, where do we find a non noodling, piano player who has his own gear, is willing to sleep in the van, who'll keep his mouth shut and do as he's told?
George - Without being paid much.
Gordon and Devon (together) - Damn right.
Jim - I know a guy...plays piano, doesn't have a job at the moment, been to some of our shows so he knows our stuff and would do it in a heartbeat. His name is Deke.

Narrator - Hell, that was easy. Sometimes, life just pieces together these happy little jigsaws for us. What could possibly go wrong?

Cut to rehearsal room and in walks the piano player with Jim. He's stylish, handsome and looks like a young Chet Baker.
Jim - This is Deke.
Narrator - He has to go.
Deke - Hey guys. Thanks for the opportunity.
Gordon and Billy welcome him warmly. A huffy George is less impressed.
Narrator - Hawl, James Dean! This is my territory. All available slots have been filled. Gordon is the Alpha male, Jim is the housewives favourite, Billy is the Zen Master and I'm the unbearably good looking one. Sorry, as Freddie says, 'There can be only one'...
Gordon - Let's see what you've got. A little jam in the key of C?
Deke - No bother.
The band start jamming.
Narrator - Bollocks. He's good.
It is evident that Deke is a talented player. But every time George goes to sing, Gordon and Deke go into intricate solos. Billy too, gets in on the act leaving George frustrated. They get to the end of the piece...
Gordon (to Deke) - Welcome to the band.
Narrator - He has to go.




Cut to Nico's. Myra and Devon are talking about the tour.

Myra - I have a few guys up north who I can speak to.
Devon - So far, I've got Dundee, Edinburgh and Wick taken care of. If you can arrange something in Aberdeen and Inverness, that would help. And there's a new wine bar opened in Fort William that have been bugging us to play.
Myra - Wine bar? For White?
Devon - We might as well. We have a piano player now. Anyway, the owner said that if we play the wine bar on the Tuesday, he'll find a slot for us at a rock festival he's set up on the Saturday.




Cut to Gordon's flat. George and Billy are there with Gordon working on songs.
Gordon - So, why don't you like him?
George - He's a stuck up wank. And he looks like he's just bounded in from the set of a Nicholas Ray film.
Billy and Gordon look at each other, blankly.
George - And he's a fucking jazzer. Gordon, correct me if I'm wrong but didn't you say that anyone who likes Jazz should be beaten with a wah wah pedal, put in a bag and thrown in the Clyde?
Narrator - Conveniently forgetting your own illicit love of Jazz for a second, I see.
Billy - I like jazz.
George - But you're weird.
Narrator - Have you no shame? What's that word again? Is it hypocrite?
Gordon - We like him.
George - Well, I don't.
Pause...
Billy - It's his looks, isn't it?
Narrator - To the quick, Billy. Cut me to the quick. Now that I've been sussed out by the Mental Guru, there's nothing to do but nut up and shut up. We've got a mini tour of Scotland to negotiate. Inverness tomorrow, Aberdeen, Wick then Fort William. Rock and roll, eh? So, surely you'd think that Devon has organised a nice, easy little warm up before we head into the rock hinterlands?
Cut to rough looking pub
Narrator - Think again. Welcome to...The Jailhouse. Edinburgh's meanest, toughest biker bar.

Cut to band walking in. The whole bar stops and looks at them.

Narrator - Now, while Darryl Hall and John Oates teaming up with Sade may carry more obvious menace than us, we've become more than used to dealing with the kind of crowds you rarely see at a Hue and Cry concert.

Cut to various scraps, on stage and off.
Narrator - Easy with the face, guys.

Cut back to bar, mean looks all round.
Narrator - This ...is a dawdle.
Cut to long legged Rock chick standing at the bar as she turns and 'clotheslines' a 2nd statuesque Rock chick. They start brawling on the bar room floor. The bar stops staring at the band and turns its attentions to the cat fight. The band stare at the fight with a mix of shock and excitement.
Narrator - Told you. Dawdle.
The band move away from the fight as it reaches its climax but Deke seems transfixed by it.
George - Enjoying yourself?
Deke - Wow! Is it always like this?
George nods, smugly.
Deke - This is great!
George's face trips him again.




Cuts to band playing, the crowd is appreciative.
Narrator - 2nd term, University of Rock, Edinburgh campus. What an apprenticeship.
Song ends and crowd applauds. George addresses the crowd.
George - Thank you Jailhouse! This is the last song for the night...it's called...
Cut to crowd parting, left side of crowd facing off to the right side before violently attacking each other with chains and motorcycle helmets.
George ....Rip it up!

The band continue playing as the bar erupts. Billy, Jim and Gordon are feeding off the electric atmosphere. George turns to look at the keyboard player. He's crouching beneath his piano with only his hands and his quiff showing.
Narrator - Rock road rules, chapter 1. Should medium to large scale fight break out close to band, they'll always go for the piano player first. This guy is smarter than he looks.

Cut to outside gig, band packing gear away as police riot squad arrives. The band 'disappear' a couple of crates of beer as the melee continues to occupy the bar staff and bouncers.
Narrator - What would you call this? A welcoming committee in reverse? Anyway, so long and thanks for the fish. To the hotel!
Cut to conservative guest house lobby.
George - The name is White, should be a couple of rooms in our name. (removes shades) We're a band...
Receptionist - There is one room, twin...for a Mr White.
Narrator - Well, this is awkward.
Billy - Fucking Devon....
Gordon - There's a club down the road. We'll no doubt find a couple of young ladies to help us rest our weary wangs. Whoever doesn't score, gets the beds.
Jim - Game on.
Cut to hotel room, hours later. The full band, all five members are sleeping in the beds, on a chair and on the floor. The room reverberates to the rhythm of the snoring of the band.




Cut to band in van, next morning.
Screen says Edinburgh to Inverness 199m, 3hrs 56mins...6hrs to showtime at Clachan Park Rock Festival.

Narrator - We might only be getting expenses for this gig but I'm genuinely excited about playing a bona fide rock festival. Even though I've never heard of it.
Jim - Are we there yet?
Gordon - Devon said that they're expecting 4,000 there today.
Deke - Cool.
Billy - As long as the weather doesn't turn...
Cut to montage of changing drivers (and changing weather) as the hours fly past.
Narrator - 4 seasons in an afternoon. Welcome to Scotland. The origins of the name of the town we're heading towards, Inverness, comes from the local innuit name, Hakka Rapa Lurgie which I believe means town of the stray dog with plastic bag sticking out of its arse.
George - Are we there yet?
Billy - Almost. Just enough time for a sound check then onstage.
Cut to van arriving in Inverness and following signs for Clachan Park.
George - Don't see many rock types around here.
Gordon - Don't see many skinheads this time so that's a start.
The band laugh.
Jim - Here we go...Clachan Park.
The band pull into the small football stadium. There is no stage, just a small farmers market taking place.
Narrator - So this is what passes for rock and roll in the highlands...
Billy shouts out of the window.
Billy - Is this Clachan Park.
Old farmer - Aye son, it is.
Gordon - Where's the rock festival, old timer?
Old farmer - I hear that Lou Reed is currently warming up at the Bothy Bar and Iggy Pop is in that caravan over there with a couple of local lassies.
George - Are you serious?
Old farmer - No son, that will be what we call up here,  'taking the piss'.

Cut to the van...band jump out and look around.
Billy - Get the contract out. What does it say?
George (reading contract on bonnet of van) - I, Gregor MacLeod, hereby agree that White...blah blah blah...forty five minute set...blah...expenses only...on stage at 6pm...Claggan Park, Fort William.
Gordon - What...?
Jim - This is not Claggan Park, Fort William, this is Clachan Park, Inverness.
The band have their head in their hands.
Billy - We're on stage in less than an hour. Back in the van!
Cut to screen saying Inverness to Fort William 64m, journey time...1hr 16m...showtime 45 mins.

Cut to van breaking speed limits. Gordon driving, Billy and George sit in passenger seats while Jim and Deke are being thrown around in the back.
Shot of van hurtling arriving Fort William, the rain is relentless.
Narrator - 64 miles in 41 minutes, I hope we took the excess.
Jim - There it is! Claggan Park!
Van skids into the car park.
Narrator - Don't see many rock types around here. The crowd must be inside.
Cut to distant stage being battered by the elements, a handful of hardy souls brave the weather to stand in front of the band playing. Large crowd watches from hospitality tent.
Close up of White on stage, standing in pools of water. They are soaked and are about to play their last tune. Deke, wearing a plastic bag on his head to protect his quiff.
Deke - Isn't this dangerous?
Billy - No, this is fresh water, country rain. It's the city stuff that'll get you killed.
Jim - Anyway, the sun's coming out.
Narrator - And as the old adage goes, if you don't like the weather in Scotland, hang around a few minutes.
As the sun comes out and so do the concert goers, just in time for the last song.
Narrator - So pretty ladies, where are we staying tonight?
Cut to living room, early following morning. Band members dotted around room. Loud snoring.
Narrator - Zero for two lads. Must do better.

Cut to chubby rock fan opening the curtains.
Rock fan - Morning boys. Time for breakfast.
Jim (yawning) - Smells good mate.
Billy - Thanks man.
George (to band) - That's your proper highland hospitality at work.
Rock fan - No bother boys. I took a tenner out of your pocket while you were sleeping to pay for it.
Gordon - You're welcome.




Cut to band in van leaving Fort William. Screen says F.William to Aberdeen 159m, 3hrs 15m




Narrator (sings) - Ahhh berrr deeen deeen deeen ....push pineapple shake the tree, aberdeen deen deen, I really need some strong coffee. And a shower.




Gordon is driving the van and stops suddenly.
Gordon - Right, new rule of the road. No one takes their boots off in the van unless they have washed their feet and have clean socks. No exceptions.
Cut to back of van, grumbling band put boots back on.
Gordon - Better.
Cut to band entering the city of Aberdeen.
Narrator - Time to rock the granite city! But while Deke guards the gear, the rest of us go in search of some hot water.
George - Surely the main station has shower facilities?
George, Jim and Billy enter the station.
Gordon notices a Holiday Inn, stops in front of it then walks in.
Cut back to station toilets. The three band members take their tops off, then their boots and socks.
Narrator - No showers so it's a good old fashioned scrub in the sink.
Cut to Gordon walking the corridors, checking the doors. One is unlocked. He looks around then enters.
Cut back to station toilet, band are washing when a middle aged man enters. He casts his eyes over the semi naked bodies of the band then enters a cubicle. The band look at each other before going back to washing.
Cut to Gordon bathing in luxury, slugging back miniatures from the mini bar. An attractive middle aged lady walks into the bathroom.
Lady - Care to explain yourself, young man?
Gordon smiles and offers bottle to lady.
Cut back to station toilets. Grunts and groans are coming from the cubicle occupied by the middle aged man. Band stop washing.
Billy - He's not doing what I think he's doing?
The groans increase.
George boots the door open to find the man clutching his groin.
Jim - Dirty old bastard!
George - Hey mate, at least wait until we're gone before knocking one out.
Old man falls to the floor, still clutching.
Billy - You can stop now.
Cut to Ambulance crew and police questioning the band.
Narrator - The only thing hard about the old dude was his arteries. Best get back now...
Cut to end of gig, band head off stage and into the audience.
George - C'mon guys, let's make this count.
Billy - It's been a long season without rain.
Cut to nice flat, all five members of the band are lying on floor of the living room wrapped in curtains and blankets, snoring heavily.
Narrator - Oh, come on! At least the flat was nice this time. And we weren't robbed by a fat Whitesnake fan.




Cut to band in van.
George - Serious?
Gordon (driving) - God's honest truth.
Jim - So, what happened?
Gordon - The phone in the room went, she got out of the bath and took the call. Something about her husband taking ill in the station toilets...
Jim, Billy and George look at each other.
Narrator - So, if it's Monday it must be ...Wick!
Screen says Aberdeen to Wick 237m, 5 hours 56 mins
Narrator - The Royal Borough of Wick or to us lowland softies, the end of the world. OK, just the end of Britain. Almost as far north as you can go on the mainland, it also is renowned for having the world's shortest street, just six feet in length with one door. Slightly less known fact about Wick is that this was a town that goes absolutely tonto for rock. But first...

Cut to van finally arriving for soundcheck.

Billy - This must be the place...
Band gets out of van, a tired Gordon stretches.
Gordon - Hawl, you...c'mere!
George - What?
Gordon - If you think I'm spending the rest of my musical career being your chauffeur, think again. Learn to fucking drive.
Jim - No worries big man.
Jim, Deke and George walk around the back of the van out of hearing distance.
George - Aye right, ya miserable big sod.
Jim - What's so difficult about driving a van anyway?

George - It's a lead guitarist thing.
Deke (whispers) - How many lead guitarists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Jim - Dunno...
Deke - One. He holds the bulb and the world revolves around him.

The three of them laugh.
Gordon (shouts) - I heard that!

Narrator - Maybe I misjudged Deke...
Large man approaches...
Large man - You must be the band, then? I'm Dougal. Welcome to Wick.
The band exchange pleasantries with him before going inside.
Dougal (to equally large chargehand) - Callum, help these lads with their gear. We've been looking forward to this show. We don't get many rock bands visit our wee town. Have you come straight from Glasgow?
George - No, we played Aberdeen last night.
Dougal - Aberdeen? I bet those tight bastards didn't feed you. You must be hungry. We'll get you fed before you soundcheck.
Narrator - Going by what we've experienced so far, this could be costly.
The band take their seats at a table.
Dougal - OK, lads...what'll it be?
Band look sheepishly at each other.
George - How much is a plate of chips?
Dougal - Don't be silly laddie! This is steak country. And what kind of hosts would we be if we made you pay for your dinner?
Deke puts his hand up.
Deke - I'm vegetarian.
Dougal - I'll pretend I didn't hear that son. Callum!! Take the gun down, it's steaks for five.
Narrator - What the...?
Callum goes out into the field and the sound of a gunshot is heard. The band are sitting with their mouths agog.
Narrator - He didn't just...no, he wouldn't...
Dougal starts laughing.
Dougal - I bet you all think we shag sheep too. Good grief boys. You didn't think we actually shoot the cow then feed it to you? (laughs) We like do that for our lowland visitors to show them that we highlanders have a sense of humour. Shoot the gun, not shag the sheep that is.
Narrator - That clears things up.
Dougal - No, that one we'll serve tomorrow.




Cut to the band tucking into a feast of meat.




Narrator - What a place! And don't worry, Deke got a lovely fish dish. These guys really went out of their way to make us feel welcome. So, if it is rock that they want, then it is rock they shall have.




Cut to sweat drenched band on stage in front of very large crowd in a giant refurbished barn.

Narrator - Wick at that time had a population of about 6,000 and on that night, it felt as if most of the town was in that big old barn. What we didn't know was that the local radio station had been playing a tape of our songs for weeks. So, we played over three hours of music for them. Every song we had, a few extended jams and a whole host of covers. They just would not let us finish. Thirsty? Here's another beer. But it felt right to leave everything we had on stage. (cut to row of very excited females at the front of the stage) Well, almost everything...




Cut to next morning, George buttons up his shirt and walks into the kitchen. The girl he spent the night with is making breakfast.
Girl - Morning.
George - Morning.
They sit down at the table. They exchange nods but it's silence as they eat.
Narrator - Well...this is awkward.
Girl - Just to let you know, I don't normally do this kind of thing.
George - No problem. It was just a bit of fun, eh?
Girl - No, normally I only fuck women.
George chokes on a bit of his toast.
Girl - I was just wondering what cock was all about.
George coughs his food into his napkin.
George - Well, you seemed to enjoy it.
Girl - Hmm...I suppose.
Narrator - Thanks for the glowing recommendation.
Girl (sensing that she's hurt George's feelings) - Don't get me wrong. It was really...nice.
Narrator - Nice? I'm an all singing, all humpin' skinny hipped rock god! How was I to know you had shares in Birkenstock, love?
Girl - Sorry, it just doesn't feel the same with a man.
Narrator - I'll take your word for it.
Girl (Taking George's plate) - Would you like a bit more sausage, George?
Narrator - Now you're just being mean.




Cut back to bar. Band are returning to collect gear and van. They congregate at table with Dougal and Callum.
Gordon - Thanks for looking after the gear mate.
Dougal - No bother at all. So, did you all enjoy your visit to our wee town?
Billy - Best show we've had in ages.
The band agree.
Dougal - Would you lads like a bit of food before you go?
The band smile as Dougal orders 4 full breakfasts and a grapefruit.
Narrator - Listen, there's no shame in having another breakfast. Anyway, who knows when we'll eat again?
Callum (standing up) - Where are you headed to next?
Jim - Fort William. We've got a gig in a wine bar.
Dougal - Which one?
Narrator - You mean Fort William has more than one?
Deke - It's called MacLeods Wine Bar.
Narrator - Sounds classy, eh?
Callum and Dougal sit back down.
Dougal - Have you been paid yet?
George - No. Why?
Dougal - Let's just say that Mr MacLeod has a bit of a reputation around the highlands. Try to get your money before you play lads.
Narrator - Sound advice as it turns out.
Cut to saying goodbye to the Wick faithful. Screen says ... Wick to Fort William 200m, 4 hours 54 mins




Billy is driving the van as they make their way through the picturesque scenery.

Narrator - One more show to go before home.

Band pull up to fancy looking wine bar.

Narrator - I have to confess. I never liked wine bars.

Cut to arrogant chargehand showing band where to set up.

George - Any chance of an advance in lieu of the performance?

Chargehand - Not a chance. You can change in there. Stay out of sight until show time. And don't touch anything.

Narrator - I always believed that the people who dreamt up the concept of wine bars had delusions of evil, caused by listening to Dire Straits records backwards. And what did they do after the these fake, soulless gateways to Hades went bust? They started up the modern equivalent. The Irish theme bar. Now, no one in Ireland knows where the fuck they are because all the road signs are hanging on the walls in Irish theme bars. But MacLeod's wine bar was slightly different to the norm because at the half way point in our show...this happened.

Cut to band finishing song, lights go up. George takes the mike and is passed a card. He reads the script.

George - Would everyone form an orderly queue over on the left, my right? Pie, beans and chips will be served during the break. Make sure you have your ticket, one pie only per patron. We'll be back in 30 minutes.

Narrator - And this is what makes the Highlands so unique. I'd hazard a guess that in the wine bars of Manhattan or the West End of London, you'd have to pay separately for your pie, beans and chips. And the dressing room?

Cut to band sitting drinking beer, eating pie, beans and chips in the bar's kitchen. Billy spots a tray of frozen chicken breasts and empties them into a plastic bag before putting them in his equipment case. Gordon's eyes light up spots some vacuum packed steaks in a fridge. Even Deke is rifling through the pantry looking for quorn.

Narrator - And this is what's called the Highland Clearance.

The show ends, the bar closes and the band are clearing up their gear.

Narrator - Now we just have to collect £200, pass go, don't go to jail and head home.

Gordon approaches the chargehand.

Chargehand - Here's your money.

Gordon counts it. It's not what was agreed.

Gordon - This is £40 short.

Chargehand - That's what was left by Mr MacLeod. That's what you're getting.

Gordon takes his glasses off.

Narrator - Defcon 5! Defcon 5!

The rest of the band rush to restrain a clearly furious guitarist.

Gordon - We want our money. Where's MacLeod?

Chargehand - He's gone home for the night.

Billy - Then we'll go to his place for the money.

Chargehand (worried) - That's not a good idea. He doesn't like visitors.

Gordon - I don't like being ripped off.

Gordon picks up a discarded plate and throws it at the wall.

Narrator - So, now we're in a Highland standoff. Like the Mexican equivalent. Only colder. With chips and beans instead of guns.

George - We've got a contract.

Chargehand - You really don't know Mr MacLeod, do you?

Jim - His address is on it.

Billy - Let's go see him.

The van drives out of the town, into the country...

George looks at the map

George - It's around here somewhere.

Jim - There! That's it.

Billy - Let's go.

The van drives down the long driveway and approaches the large house. Dogs bark and strong lights are turned in the direction of the van. A man approaches the van.

Man - Turn the engine off! What do you want?

Gordon - We're here to see MacLeod.

Man - That's Mr MacLeod to you, boy.

Man looks around at the house and is given a sign to let the band through.

The van pulls up, and the band get out and approach the door.

A large man carrying a shotgun and holding the lead of an angry dog walks out of the front door.

Man - I'm MacLeod. Who the fuck are you?

Gordon - We're the band. You short changed us by £40.

Billy - We want our money.

George, Jim and Deke stand behind.

MacLeod (laughs) - 40 quid? You came to my house...MY HOUSE for 40 fucking quid?

MacLeod cocks the gun and points it at the band.

MacLeod - I shot a trespasser last week. Buried him in the woods. Might take a while but I'm sure we can dig a hole big enough for you lot.

Narrator - Nice knowing you. Sorry to bother you, Mr MacLeod.  Goodbye.

MacLeod - Now get the fuck off my land.

Cut to band in van as they approach the town.

Gordon is still angry.

Gordon - I can't believe we've been stiffed.

Narrator - I can't believe we survived!

Deke - Not a lot we can do I suppose. We're up a few quid anyway. We should just head back.

Billy - No, it's the principle.

George - Bill, we've got more than £40 worth of food in our bags. I agree with Deke. We should call it quits and go back to Glasgow with our heads still on our shoulders. We have run out of options.

Jim - Not quite.

The band turn to Jim and listen to his plan.

Jim - We have his signature on the original contract, right? Ok, who can replicate it on this piece of paper?

The band practice signing MacLeod's name. George's is the closest. Jim then writes 'Pay these fuckers £40' on the scrap with the fake signature on it.

Billy and Gordon agree that it might work. Deke and George are more concerned.

Gordon - You three stay here and watch the gear. Billy and I will sort this out. If you see MacLeod or his guys arrive, honk three times.

George - On the ceiling if you want me?

Narrator - Gallows humour? Fine. We'll stay here. Sitting targets. Has anyone got a spare diaper?

Billy and Gordon leave the van and are let into the bar by a large doorman.

Jim, Deke and George remain in the van, petrified.

Narrator - The next few minutes felt like hours. Every scenario was running through our minds.

Cut to various scenes of torture, violence, tickling...

Narrator - Until...

Jim - Look!

Gordon and Billy emerge from the door. They get into the van.

The doorman looks over at the van and indicates for them to wait a minute.

George - How did it go?

Gordon - Ready Billy? Guys, hold on tight to something.

Billy nods and turns the engine on.

Gordon - Drive!!!

The van speeds off as the doorman and chargehand rush into the street.

Jim, Deke and George go sprawling.

George - What happened?

Jim - Did it work?

Gordon turns round with £40 in his hand.

Gordon - Well...

Cut back to Gordon and Billy arriving at bar.

Chargehand - What do you want?

Gordon - We want our £40.

Billy - Here you go. Straight from Mr MacLeod.

Billy hands over the note.

Chargehand (surprised) - You actually went out to Mr MacLeod's place?

Gordon - Yeah. Nice dog.

Billy - And nice shotgun.

Chargehand - I told you he doesn't like to be disturbed.

The chargehand goes to the till and removes the money.

Gordon counts it.

Chargehand - I...I...I'll just give him a call to confirm.

Gordon - Good luck with that.

Billy - Yeah. He wasn't happy with us waking him up. But he'll understand if you do it, I'm sure.

Gordon - We'll wait in the van.

Chargehand makes the call.

Cut to slow motion scene of Billy and Gordon walking out past the doorman as MacLeod's phone rings.

Cut to MacLeod screaming at phone, chargehand visibly stunned shouts out to doorman who indicates to van to wait a minute. Van pulls off as sprinting chargehand reaches doorman and they vainly attempt to give chase on foot.

Screen shows Fort William to Glasgow 102 mi, 2 hours 7 mins

Narrator - 2hrs 7 mins? I reckon we shaved an hour off that!

Cut to van speeding away through the highlands. The mood of the band is buoyant.

Deke (voiceover) - What's the difference between the Rolling Stones and a highland farmer? The Rolling Stones say 'Hey you, get off of my Cloud!' and the highland farmer says 'Hey MacLeod, get off of my ewe!'

The band cracks up.

Narrator - And so endeth our mini tour of the Highlands. We didn't meet immortals or fight a Kurgan but we helped the aged in Aberdeen, had the piss ripped out of us by a cheeky old sod in Inverness and in Wick, we rocked like demons, ate like kings and turned a girl off cock for life. Plus, we were up a few quid. All in all, not a bad tour.

Cut to Billy dropping off each member at their house.

Gordon (voiceover) - Reconvene at Billy's tomorrow at 2pm for debrief, split of booty and Highway to Heaven.

Deke (voiceover) - I love Highway to Heaven.

Narrator - Welcome to the band, Deke.




End.

Episode 8 - The Shawlands Redemption

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Episode 8 - The Shawlands Redemption.
By George Paterson



Opens in a basement studio. Band is recording. The set up is better than Sound City but still not quite top of the range.

Engineer (Chris) in sound booth speaks to band through the headphones.

Chris - We've got another 10 minutes if you want to throw something else down...

Band nod in agreement. They then proceed to play a sloppy, shambolic jam which ends with the band laughing hysterically.

Narrator - If at first you don't succeed, redefine your definition of success. Things could be a lot worse. OK, we've watched our contemporaries get record deals, have hits and found themselves moderately wealthy but we're not doing too bad. Enough money to eat, drink and live in a flat that has a roof. That's not to be sniffed at. And we've booked sessions at Chris's studio, all paid for by a money spinning gig in America!

Cut to band in the van boarding a ferry at night. It is very misty. George and Jim move into the back of van.

George - Are you sure this is legal?

Gordon - Shut up and get in the big case.

Billy - Until we get paid, we can only afford to pay for one van plus two passengers. Jim, I can see your feet.

Jim climbs inside the bass drum.

Jim (muffled) - Better?

George (mutters) - I'm the bloody singer. How the fuck did I end up in the back? Whose leg is this? Crawfy?

Crawfy sticks his head out from under a pile of bags.

Crawfy - Not mine. Could be Devon's.

Devon shouts from beneath the guitar cases...

Devon - Not mine. Must be Stevie.

Stevie remains unseen. The band look in the back for Stevie. A loud, sustained parp reverberates around the van.

Gordon - He's definitely here.

Stevie (muffled) - Sorry girls!




Narrator - OK, smuggling 5 guys in the back of a Transit wasn't quite the glamour of Los Angeles or excitement of New York but the American Nuclear Naval base in the Holy Loch still counted as the US. Hell, they even paid us in dollars.

Cut to band playing slow ballad in front of a large but unimpressed crowd of US service personnel and their partners. Devon, Stevie and Crawfy, looking worried and very much out of place, are throwing back shots at the bar.

An extremely mean looking sailor goes up to band...

Intimidating Sailor - Play some soul.

George - Excuse me?

Intimidating Sailor (shouting) - Are you deaf white boy? We want to dance. Play some goddamned, motherfucking soul!

Narrator - I guess the nursing home set is out then...

Jim stops mid song, counts out and the band immediately drop into Curtis Mayfield's 'Move on Up'

Narrator - Dap dap dah dah dah durr (along with the tune)

Cut to end of song, rapturous applause before band play fast/Otis version of 'Satisfaction'.

Narrator - Eating out of the palms of our hands. One thing regular gigging does is sharpen up your game. You become match fit. And versatile. Which can come in very handy...

Cut to after gig, Sailor goes up to the band. He corners George.

Intimidating Sailor - Hey boy!

The others depart swiftly.

Intimidating Sailor - What kind of fucked up name is WHITE? You better not be some sort of stupid ass supremacists.

George (tired) -Look at me, man. I'm 10st wet, I have long hair and I wear eyeliner. Do I look like a fucking nazi to you?

Intimidating Sailor puts his face right up to George's.

Intimidating Sailor (laughs) - Man, I'm just fucking with y'all. You boys were good. (grabs George) I'm gonna buy your skinny ass a beer. Have you ever been to Detroit? I know a place you guys would destroy!

Narrator - Thank the Lord. I really didn't want to have to kick his ass in front of his friends.

Cut back to Studio, band are listening to their work.

Chris - What do you think?

Gordon - I'm happy.

Billy - Works for me.

Chris - If you don't mind me asking, what are you going to do with the recordings?

George - Send it off to London like our other demos, I suppose.

Chris - You know Campbell Baxter?

Narrator - Of course we do. Spent his not inconsiderable inheritance removing Raw Sex from Sound City studios...

Cut to 'Raw Sex' Raymond throwing bank notes into the air.

Narrator - ...and shoehorning his band Softly, Softly into the charts.

Cut to weedy pop/soul band playing saccharine ballad in front of swooning teenagers.

Narrator - A band so evil, Satan himself doesn't have a storage unit big enough for their unholy souls. I'm not jealous.

Devon - Baxter? What about him?

Chris - He's putting together an album of songs from various Glasgow bands called 'Dear Green Place'. You should get some of these songs to him.

Narrator - Great idea. But there's one little flaw...

Cut to after show party for Softly Softly, WHITE are enjoying the free drink and food. A small bookish man wearing glasses approaches.

Campbell Baxter - Well, if it isn't Glasgow's favourite losers? Please, help yourselves. Enjoy this. You never know when you're going to be in the presence of greatness again. Weren't my band just sensational?

George - No, they sucked balls.

Campbell Baxter - At least we're not begging for gigs at old folks homes, eh Devon?

Gordon (eating) - Give me one reason I don't knock his teeth down his fucking throat.

Campbell Baxter - For one, I'm a lawyer and I'd sue you for every penny you have. But seeing as you're as successful as a bald Korean Billy Idol tribute act, that wouldn't pay for my left hand manicure. Secondly, if you want to get ahead in this town, you need a real manager with real contacts, isn't that right, Devon?

Devon scowls but remains silent.

Campbell Baxter - And if you do, maybe you'll stop hanging around cheap whores and be able to pull some real talent. Say hi to Tanya...

Statuesque blonde appears, smiles at band.

Campbell Baxter - Now, say bye to Tanya. And that's as close as you guys will ever get to real class. (puts fingers out) Smell that?

That's the smell of success, suckers. Keep on keeping on, White boys.

Baxter walks away.

Billy - I've come to the conclusion that he's a bigger tit than Lloyd Cole.

George - And that's saying something

Devon - I will give £1000 to the first man who gets the lovely Tanya from that little scrote.

Gordon - Forget the money, I would be honoured to take on this mission.

Jim - Fuck it, I'm in too. George?

George - It would be rude not to.

Billy - And I'll get you photographs.

Band look at Tanya walking away. She turns around and smiles at them.

Narrator - Somehow, I don't think that this will be much of a challenge.

Cut back to studio...

Chris - So, you're fucked then?

Band nod collectively.




Cut to Nicos pub...

Narrator - As the proverb goes, never trust a guy who has a surname for a first name. Apart from Crawfy that is.

Cut to George cruising with Crawfy in his spectacular Red Ford Falcon. Crawfy turns the music up really loud as they speed away loudly.

Cut back to Nico's

Narrator- Never mind, we've got our new master tapes. And who better to get it working than...

Devon - Myra!

Myra - What do you want Devon?

Devon - Now is that how you speak to your oldest and dearest friend?

Myra - I'm still not talking to you.

Devon - Why is that, my sweet little peach?

Myra - Let me cast my mind back. Is it because I was left with a three figure bar bill from the Softly, Softly after show that I had to foot?

Devon - You know the lads, they can get quite thirsty.

Myra - Or is it because I went to Houston to cover a gig that you failed to show for? Well, it was not so much a gig as a cheery wee aryan get together.

Devon - Yeah...about that...

Myra - Or could it be that a certain sluttish member of your extended party caused me to take an unplanned trip to the (whispers angrily) lady garden clinic?

Narrator - Sluttish member of our party? C'mon Myra, narrow it down a bit.

Devon - Sweetest Myra, I can only apologise on behalf of the manky bastard in question and I assure you that once the antibiotics wear off, paid for by myself, we'll continue to treat you with the loving respect and deference you so thoroughly merit.

Myra (sighs) - Enough already...

Devon - We hear that there is an album being compiled...

Myra - Forget it.

Devon - Campbell Baxter hates our guts. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Myra. You're our only hope.

Myra (groans) - Sweet sword of Jesus...

Narrator - Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for the right woman at your side, kid.




Cut to the flat, George enters to find Brian asleep on the sofa bed in the living room and Donny cooking dinner.

George - What the fuck is that smell?

Donny - Oh, that's the lettuce.

George - Doesn't smell like lettuce.

Donny - It does if you try to defrost it in the grill.

Donny shows George the charred salad.

Narrator - Makes sense I suppose.

Donny - Hungry?

George - Funnily enough, no. Up for Nico's later?

Donny - Maybe after our rehearsal. But guess what?

George - Go on.

Brian (awakening) - We've got a roadie!

George - No chance!

Brian - Serious.

Narrator - Calm the ham! We don't even have a roadie.

Donny - Owns a van, loves the music, works for grub. He used to work on the Pepsi trucks, delivering with Andy.

George - Brilliant. What's the catch?

Donny - You understand that we are all human animals. Mammalian in essence.

George - Yes...

Donny - Well, this guy is on the periphery.

Brian - Borderline.

Narrator - Now, this I need to see.

Sound of toilet flushing and door opening.

Donny - And right on cue...

Enter very fat man with a shaved head.

Donny - He's called Archie but everyone knows him as Thumbheid.

Thumbheid (speaks with odd, high pitched voice) - Awright mate?

George - Silly question but why are you called Thumbheid?

Cut to various polaroids of very fat man with virtually no neck in permanent state of surprise.

Thumbheid - I've no idea.

Brian - Geo, have you heard about this compilation album that's being put together?

George - Yeah, but there's more chance of me winning University Challenge and then going on the pull with Bamber than us getting on that album. You guys should go for it.

Donny - I was going to speak to Campbell Baxter tonight at Sound City. I'll put a good word in for you.

George - For Christ sakes, don't tell him you know us. He really hates us. Anyway, I'm hearing you can't get near him these days for security.

Brian - That's true. Gone all Howard Hughes, power mental. But you're such lovable scamps, I'm sure you'll think of something.

George - If only I could talk to him. Reason with him. I'm sure he'd give us a chance.

Donny - But how?

Thumbheid (eating) - I know where he lives.

Brian, Donny and George turn to him.

Donny - What?

Thumbheid - He lives on Camphill Avenue in Shawlands. I used to deliver newspapers to his old dear.

Brian - To the Heid mobile.




Cut to van pulling up outside upmarket tenement block.




Thumbheid - Up there. The blue door is his. Number 22.

George - Nice gaff.

Donny - What are you waiting for? Go for it!

George leaves van clutching cassette and heads up the staircase. Walks up to the blue door and rings the bell. Donny, Brian and Thumbheid look on.

Tanya opens the door, wearing chiffon robe.

Tanya - Oh hello!

George - Hi Tanya. Is Campbell around?

Tanya - He's at the studio with the Softly's. He won't be back for...oh at least a couple of hours. Do you want to come in?

George looks directly at camera.

Narrator - This would be the point in the movie when the hero, gallantly resisting the dangerous charms of the femme fatale, remembers he's a gentleman and walks away, just and chaste to the very end.

George - Aye, OK...

Narrator - Don't judge me.




Cut to George buttoning up shirt and putting his socks on. Tanya is in the shower.

Tanya - So what did you want to see Campbell about?

George - It's about this album he's compiling. We really need to be on it.

Tanya - I don't know. You did say that Softly Softly were crap. That hurt Campbell.

George - I didn't say that. And I didn't mean to hurt him...

Narrator - But you were quite happy to cuckold him? Shame on you.

George - I actually said that they suck balls... (whispers quickly) because they do. Can I ask you something personal, Tanya?

Tanya emerges from the shower.

Tanya - Fire away.

George (picks up picture of Baxter) - Why are you with this fucking two soups warhead?

Tanya - We have an understanding.


George - Do you love him?

Tanya - A bit too personal.

George - Sorry.

Tanya - OK, truth? Every time I'm seen with him in public, he pays me. Keeps the tabloids off his back. And I get to live here. Unfortunately, his money's just about gone and his lifestyle means that he owes a lot of people you shouldn't owe. If you know what I mean...

George - Holy shit!

Tanya - He really needs Softly Softly to hit it big or he's in the doggie doo. Do you know how much it cost him sending the band to LA to record their album? It's not cheap running a band.

Narrator - Tell me about it.

Tanya - Not that it matters much. I'm moving on shortly.

George - Really? Is it the money?

Tanya (gets close to George) - Can you keep a secret?

Narrator - Of course I fucking can't!

George - Sure.

Tanya - Have you ever heard of Microsoft Windows?

George - The double glazing firm?

Tanya - No, it's computers. I've got a job in the States, writing programmes.

Narrator - Hawd the bus!

George - For the telly?

Tanya - No, for computers.

George - Can you watch programmes on a computer?

Tanya (takes George's face in her hands and laughs) - Jesus...what are you going to do when your looks fade? Do you know anyone with a van?

George - If I get you a van, can I leave you a copy of the demo?

Tanya - I've already got one. It's actually quite good.

George - What? How?

Tanya - Gordon brought round a master copy this afternoon.

Narrator - The sly dog!

Tanya - Oh, and can you give this back to Jim? He left it earlier.

Tanya hands George a camera.

George - But this is Billy's camera?

Tanya - What was I thinking? Of course it's Billy's.

Narrator - Phew! What have I missed?

Tanya (handing belt to widemouthed George) - This belongs to Jim.

Narrator - Who'd have thunk it? Seems that the bold Tanya was a bit more than just expensive arm candy. A super shagging, computer boffin, Bond girl who's just bleeding our nemesis dry before heading to Redmond, USA. Things are starting to look up. But I would suggest to Mr Gates that he puts all his patents in a very strong box behind a very secure door.




George leaves the apartment and returns to the van, slightly shocked and bemused.

Brian - Well, what did he say?

George - Nothing.

Donny - What do you mean, nothing?

George (sheepish) - He wasn't there.

Donny - You shagged big Tanya, didn't you?

George (defensive) - What makes you think that?

Brian -Those aren't your trousers.

George looks down at the jeans he's wearing. They are sequinned.

George - Bollocks.

Donny, Brian and Thumbheid laugh as they drive off.

Voiceover of George - Might have a job for you Thumbheid...




Cut to Nico's at night. Band are carrying out a post coital inquiry.




George - So, who was first?

Jim's hand goes up.

Gordon - Dirty wee bastard.

Billy - Don't you agree that there's nothing worse than looking down and seeing a split, leaking condom hanging off the end of your cock?

Band nods in agreement.

Gordon - ...especially when you weren't wearing one to begin with.

The band let out a collective...Ewwww!!

Devon - So, all we need is for the track to be included on the album, printed then we'll go for the bastard?

Myra arrives.

Gordon - What news from Rome, Cleopatra?

Myra - Well centurion, my source tells me that a certain manager received a very large grant from Glasgow City Council to get this album together. Half of it went into the back pocket of Softly, Softly's Los Angeles producer and the other half bought a whole lot of strategically purchased Softly, Softly records. He bought them a hit record but he's been selling places on the album to interested parties ever since. £1000 a track.

George - Sneaky two soups bastard!

Devon - I admire his brio.

Billy - So, where does that leave us?

Myra - Well, when I approached the very elusive Mr Baxter with this info, he said that he'd make you a deal. A track, of his choosing, on the album for £500.

Billy - He can get fucked.

The band nods in agreement.

Myra - I thought you'd say that so I told him that if he didn't put a track of yours on the album, free of charge, I'd tell the papers. And the council. And the fraud squad.

Jim - So?

Myra - So, you're in! Side two, after Deacon Blue and before Bing Hitler. Launch party on Friday night at Mondo's.

Gordon - If I didn't know where your lips had been, I'd kiss you.

The band celebrate.


Narrator - Yes! We're going to be on an album! A real piece of vinyl! OK, it's only one tune. And it's hidden away on side two between Dundee's 2nd dullest man and the Joycean rantings of a mad boozebag, but beggars can't be choosers.

George - Don't want you to break a confidence Myra, but who was it that gave you the info?

Myra (very serious) - A good journalist never burns her source. The bond between a source and a journalist is sacrosanct, a confidence that can never, I mean NEVER be betrayed. I am frankly disappointed in you. If you think for a minute that I would give Tanya up...you've got another think coming. I am very thirsty though...

George smiles.

Narrator - Good old Myra. Now, haven't we got a record launch to attend?




Cut to Mondo's nightclub. The host warmly welcomes his old band.

Mondo - Congratulations lads! So, have you heard it yet?

Devon - No, we're picking our copies up tonight.

George - Can't wait to hear this.

Billy - Did you find out which track they used, Myra?

Myra - Nope. It's been kept under wraps. But I did hear that advance sales have made it the Number 7 album in Scotland.

Narrator - Be still my giddy heart.

Devon - Here comes that slimy prick Baxter now. Get ready boys.

Campbell Baxter walks on stage, with a huge smile beaming from his face.

Campbell Baxter - Welcome one and all to the launch of 'Dear Green Place', a compilation of the best talent, signed and unsigned, currently working in Glasgow with a couple of little surprises thrown in. I'm going to introduce all the tracks individually then take questions afterwards.

Narrator - I've already prepared my speech. I want to thank my Mum, Otis Redding and God, obviously...

Baxter plays the tracks from established bands like Hipsway, The Bluebells and Softly, Softly before getting to Deacon Blue. White are up next.

Chris the engineer arrives. Tanya appears, wearing large shades and frantically tries to get Myra's attention.

George - Hey man! How's things?

Chris - I'm fine. Just a bit surprised which song you chose for the disc, that's all.

Gordon - Whatcha talkin' bout Willis?

Chris - I thought we could have showcased something ...well, better actually.

Billy - I don't understand...

Cut to Myra talking to Devon, the latter reels back open mouthed. Myra looks across to the band, almost as shocked as Devon.

Narrator - Oh no...

Campbell Baxter - Next, track 14 from on of Glasgow's more...interesting bands. I'll let you be the judge. Here's White...

Cut to the assembled crowd of musicians, politicians and media looking baffled as White's throwaway jam from the end of the session plays.

Narrator - Sweet Jesus no...

Certain members of the crowd start whispering, pointing then laughing towards the band who are in turn are furious, embarrassed and stunned.

Campbell Baxter - Well, wasn't that fun? Something tells me that we'll still be talking about this after your fifteen minutes of fame have dissolved. Next, if you haven't laughed yourselves out, we have Glasgow's favourite wild anarcho comic, Track 15, Bing Hitler.

Bing Hitler (whispers to band) - For what it's worth, I quite liked it.

Cut to end of the party, the band are leaving the club, still furious. Baxter, surrounded by security, shouts out.

Baxter - Suck it up boys. While I'm number 1, to me, you'll always be a bunch of Number 2's.

Devon loses it and goes for Baxter.

Devon - I'm going to fucking kill you.

Baxter - With all of these witnesses? Not smart Devon, not smart at all.


The band hold Devon back.

George - Don't worry mate. We've got this.

Bing Hitler walks up behind Baxter and without being noticed, pours bottle of beer into his pocket.

Bing Hitler (whispers to Baxter) - Wank.

Narrator - In the future, Bing Hitler rebrands himself and becomes the host of the Tonight show in the States. Seriously. However, as far as that two soup bawbag is concerned, this means war!




Cut to Thumbheids van and Crawfy's Ford Falcon parked on a disused piece of field.

George - Delta Force will hit Shawlands while Wolverines from Red Dawn start the resistance at Sound City.

Donny - Are we Delta Force?

Jim - I voted for A-Team.

Billy - What about Broadsword calling Danny Boy, come in Danny Boy?

Brian - I still think Untouchables would be a better code name.

Gordon - That way George could be Eloquent Mess. Get it?

Thumbheid and Crawfy stand by their vehicles in silent bemusement.

George - Right! SHUT THE FUCK UP! Donny, Thumbheid, Gordon and I are Delta Force. Billy, Brian, Crawfy and Jim are the Wolverines from Red Dawn. We rendezvous Byres Road at 2100 hours. You know your signals and code words. Let's rock.




Cut to vehicles speeding off.














Cut to Thumbheid's van outside Baxter's apartment, Delta Force are ready for action.

George - Right, we all know what we're doing?

Donny - Get in, get her gear, shite in his hot tub then bolt?

George - The defecation might not be necessary.

Donny - I think it would be a nice touch.

Gordon (checking hair in mirror) - Guys, why don't I go up to the flat...alone...for a final bit of recon?

George - For fuck sake, put it away for five minutes. We've got business to attend to. Payback for the album and for Tanya.

Gordon shrugs then nods in agreement

Donny - Right Thumbheid, you know the drill. If Baxter returns, you give us the signal.

George - Make it loud enough for us to hear, OK?

Thumbheid - Aye, aye...I'm no stupid.

Gordon - Shall we?




The trio run up the stairs of the block like Ninjas. Donny uses his fingers as a pretend gun.

Tanya opens the door, still wearing shades and the guys start carrying boxes and suitcases down to the van. Thumbheid stands at the front of the van concentrating more on his takeaway meal than on his given task.

Narrator - All going to plan so far...

A taxi pulls up in front of the van and Baxter exits carrying a bag of groceries.

Thumbheid drops his bottle of Irn Bru as he runs out into the street, screaming towards the apartment in a high pitched voice...

Thumbheid - Abortion!!! Abortion!!!




(cut to slow motion scene with music - Intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana) Baxter turns, recognises Thumbheid and realising something untoward is going on, pulls out a baguette and throws it at Thumbheid, hitting him in the head but not before Thumbheid launches his ketchup covered chips towards Baxter. The red ketchup splatters over Baxter's causing him to yell out in anguish before reeling back as if wounded. The noise has alerted the guys and Tanya who now realise that an easy escape is not possible. Thumbheid charges towards Baxter who sidesteps him easily, causing the van driver to go head first over a small wall and into a hedge. Baxter looks up at the balcony and sees Tanya. He drops his bag, yells out before running up the staircase to his apartment. Cut to 'Wolverines' at Sound City. They trap the security guard in a revolving door before making their way upstairs to the studio. They open up their guitar cases to reveal a multitude of tools. They start dismantling and rewiring all of the amplifiers in the studio, priming them to blow when next used. They leave via the back exit and into Crawfy's Red Ford Falcon. Cut back to Delta Force. The last of the suitcases are thrown over the balcony, one of which hits the staggering Thumbheid, knocking him to the ground again. Cut to studio, Stevie, Devon and Chris sit in the control room, looking at the clock, nervously. Cut back to Baxter's apartment. George calls to Donny, telling him that there is no time left. Donny pulls up his trousers, disappointed that he wasn't able to leave a parting gift for Baxter. As the guys run past Baxter on the staircase, he pushes Donny who pushes him back towards George, whose hair he attempts to pull before seeing Tanya at his door, leaving for the last time. She takes her shades off to reveal a black eye. She whispers something to Baxter before heading to the van. Gordon approaches Baxter and cocks his arm, causing him to cower before walking off. He is distraught and climbs on to the balcony, shouting out Tanya's name. As the van pulls away, he swan dives from the balcony...

(back to real time) And lands on the pavement with an almighty thud...the van screeches to an abrupt halt.

George - Holy fuck! Did you see that?

Gordon - I think he's dead.

Donny - I'm going to check.




Donny goes over to look at the body.

Donny - He's...he's not moving.

Campbell Baxter (groans) - You talentless pieces of shit. You'll never work in this town again...

Donny (shouts) - It's alright. He's fine.

Donny kicks him in the ribs and walks back to the van.

Narrator - We found out later that on top of hitting women, big brave two soups used to bully Thumbheid, stealing his newspaper money and generally picking on him for not looking like one of the many pop hopefuls that passed his way. But while our man might not have won many prizes for his razor sharp intellect or for his non symmetrical looks, it was clear that the guy's heart lay in exactly the right place.

Cut to Tanya offering Thumbheid a bundle of notes for services rendered. Thumbheid refuses to take anything. Tanya points to a chip shop. Thumbheid looks shyly to the floor before nodding. Cut to Tanya, Thumbheid, Gordon, Donny and George standing outside of the chip shop eating straight from the bag. Crawfy's Red Ford Falcon pulls up followed by Devon's White Suzuki.

Cut to Sound City studios, security have checked the premises. Nothing appears to be untoward.

Security guard on phone - It's strange boss, they didn't seem to take anything. Yes sir. It's all here.

Softly, Softly enter and start to remove their instruments from their cases.

Narrator - There are times I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who did some messed up things. I want to talk to him: sometimes I would like to slap him in that unbearably pretty face but mostly I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can't. That kid's long gone and this old man is all that's left. I got to live with that. Maturity? It's just a bullshit word. So, you go on look at the chart positions sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth...

Cut to singer and guitarist going to switch on their equipment.

Narrator - ... I don't give a shit.




End.