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Right, let's smash the place up!
All right, Arthur.
Didn't know you was coming.
Motorbike. How is she?
All right, yeah.
Lifting her out of the van now.
You're the top
You're the Coliseum
You're the top
You're the Louvre Museum
You're a melody
from a symphony by Strauss...
Are you set up, Inch, it's very late?
Have you got Maggie out?
They're getting her down the drive.
Hello, Laura.
And hello, Arthur.
Some b*stard put sugar in the petrol tank.
That's why we're late.
It's good to see you.
How long can you stay?
How long do you want?
Well...
Saraffian said he thought
she might be on the way down.
Ugh, how's Saraffian meant to know,
sitting in that office all day?
He has a manager's nose.
He's like a truffle pig.
He can smell heroin at 50 paces.
Don't be absurd, dumbo.
It's not smack, it's booze.
Liquid boredom,
twice a day she flips out.
Game!
What's it to be?
Pope's ba*ls.
The game is the most boring and useless
piece of information you can think of.
Thus the Pope has ba*ls.
Right.
Away you go.
The town of Nottingham
was once called Snottingham.
Yes, that's borin'!
Thank you, pal, your go.
Efrem Zimbalist's first wife's name
was Alma Gluck.
Well done, Wilson, that's really dull.
Diana Dors' real name
was Diana Fluck.
Hello, Arthur.
Nashy, how are you?
Or Diana Clunt, I can't remember which.
The capital of Burundi is Bujumbura.
Or possibly Diana Clocksucker,
but I think I would've remembered that.
She starts drinking at breakfast,
passes out after lunch,
then she's up for tea, ready for the show.
Then after the show she starts drinking.
At 2:30, she's out again.
Morning she gets up and drinks.
She's a great professional.
Never misses a show.
Pills? Reds?
No. No. Blue heavens, no.
Yellow jackets, no. Bennies, no.
No goof ba*ls, no dexies, no dollies.
Still no acid?
Still no acid? No heroin?
No, she just drinks.
What is she, some kind of pervert?
No aeroplane glue,
no household cement, no banana peel,
no nail varnish remover,
no nutmeg, no paint-stripper.
No one in the world,
but her and Johnnie Walker.
And the singing?
Oh, the singing's OK.
Oi, waiter!
Excuse me, sir, but I am...
Yeah, yeah, waiter,
can you take 'er up to a bathroom?
..the Head Porter of the college.
You can be the f*ck' Shah of Persia
for all I care,
still gotta take her up to a bathroom.
Sir!
A cigarette that bears
her lipstick's traces
Airline ticket to romantic places
And where the hell are we?
At this moment in time
on planet Earth
the dead out-number the living
by 30 to one.
She doesn't speak
very warmly of you.
I'm not meant to drag round the country,
am I?
Or of me.
Still sings my songs.
She'd prefer not to.
I'm sure.
She'd prefer to get up there and scream.
The winds of March
that make my heart a dancer...
There's a couple of slags here
asking if anyone fancies a blowjob.
Ooh, blowjob. Do I want a blowjob?
How did they get in here?
Inch? Blowjob?
Bound to turn out like a Chinese meal.
Half an hour later and you want another.
Do they do butterfly flicks?
Ask them.
Sure.
Do you have to do that in here?
f*ck off!
Will they do butterfly flicks
with a roadie?
Not a chance.
Sorry, isn't he meant to be setting up?
You're an hour late.
Does it look all right?
It's up to him.
Why don't you help him?
Because we're artists.
Artists don't set up.
You don't ask Yehudi Menuhin
to go out and strangle the cat.
They do blowjobs with singers,
but nothin' below bass guitar.
That's right, love,
keep your standards up.
I play f*ck' bass guitar!
Artists! I mean,
Keith Moon ran over his own chauffeur.
He said, "Chauffeurs are two a penny, it's
blokes like me what are irreplaceable."
There is no word in the English language
that rhymes with 'orange'.
Hey, these Valiums,
do they go with me shirt?
Is that to be everything, sir?
No, you've gotta get her clothes off
and get her into the bath.
Sir?
What, you think I'm joking?
Sir, would you like me
to call Housekeeping?
No, we're gonna have to wash her.
Want to know what that's like?
Sir?
Well, have you ever seen 'em
cleaning St Paul's?
- We saved it during the Blitz, sir.
- Is that what happens every day?
- What does everyone do?
- Pretend not to notice.
Well, what would you do?
There's no choice.
Stoke tomorrow.
Then Keele, Bradford, Southampton.
Quick one in Amsterdam. Back to Glasgow.
Then, they claim, California.
But nobody believes it.
Saraffian's mad.
It's not Saraffian's idea. It's her. She
wants to hit San Francisco on her knees.
What's the money?
Tonight? 120, no more.
It won't cover overheads, whatever it is,
but she likes to keep busy.
All the jumping on the spot
makes you feel famous.
But it's no real substitute
for people knowing your name.
Arthur?
Yes?
Your contribution.
The most boring thing you know.
HG Wells was attractive to women
because his breath smelt of honey.
- Very nice. Very nice!
- I enjoyed that.
- Are we nearly...
- There's a plug.
We're waiting to mend a plug.
Look, over there. And then we'll be ready.
I'm the organiser. The booking.
You are 90 minutes late, you know.
Couldn't someone...
one of you mend it yourselves?
Arms like penguins, I'm afraid.
I see.
Three-quarters of all children
are born before breakfast.
Have you got her dress?
Here. Tonight, Miss Frisby is in peach.
Will that be everything, sir?
No. Why not lie down there
and I'll walk all over yer?
Sir!
Can't get any decent room service
round 'ere!
Every time we breathe,
we inhale several million molecules
that was exhaled by Leonardo da Vinci.
No, no, Nashy.
What?
You don't understand,
that's really quite interesting.
Leonardo, I mean,
it's far too interesting.
I'm thinking about marketing
a pork pie.
Yeah, a new kind of pork pie which,
when you put the knife through the pastry,
will let out an agonised honk,
as of a pig being slaughtered.
I think it would do well, don't you?
A tip is it, Mr Snead what you're after?
Sir?
Don't look at us, pal, we're too famous.
We're like the Queen,
we don't carry actual money.
Sir?
And you're playin' it far too fast.
She says will Arthur help her
out of the bath?
Waiter!
Sir?
f*ck off.
Come on, boy, come on, Arthur,
come and meet Maggie.
There's a good boy. Come on.
Open it.
What is that prick doing here?
If you've got something to say.
I never said it.
Where are the others?
I hate Canterbury.
Every time we come to Canterbury,
I swear to never come again.
So do I. Except this is Cambridge.
Yeah. Look.
Yack-yack-yack!
Cleanest needle in showbusiness!
Great, it should be dull.
The bag.
What?
The bag. Pass me the bag.
This is Maggie's.
Will you pass me the f*cking bag?
Just borrowing her bag.
That...
Just borrowing her f*cking bag!
- Has there been any...
- Progress? No.
She ain't been busted as often as me.
That would be quite hard, Peyote.
You'd have to stand on street corners
stuffing tabs up traffic wardens' nostrils
to get yourself busted as often as you.
f*ck off!
Is Miss Frisby with you?
She's just being sandblasted next door.
Why don't you sit down?
Thank you.
Did you see her?
What is she on?
Did she recognise you.
She said,
'Who let this piece of sh*t in here?'
Aw, she recognised you!
Yes.
I need to call Saraffian.
Do you know where there's a phone?
In the Porter's...
Lodge? Thank you.
He doesn't care.
As long as they stagger on stage and get
their hands somewhere near a guitar.
Yes, Peyote?
f*ck off!
I don't care either.
Butcher my tunes. Forget my lyrics.
Steal my royalties. I expect it.
I thought she....
I thought she wanted to see me.
Sure.
Just tell me what she's on.
Arthur, you lived with her.
Have you let her get hooked?
Well? Have you let her get hooked again?
Have I?
Well?
Have you had a look
where you're...?
Peyote, do you know what she's on?
She's mainlining string,
pulling it through 'er veins.
Do you want to have a look at...
Little fella, why don't you ever get
through a single...
Sentence. I know.
It's...
I just hear what I'm saying and it always
sounds so dreary and second-hand.
I...I just am... too fastidious to...
Finish?
Right.
I'm hoping to interview Miss Frisby.
She's in the bathroom, walk right up.
Does she have any clothes on?
Never stopped her before.
What are you going to ask her?
Oh... er...
General things about the role
of popular music in society.
Oh, that's a very good subject.
Very good subject.
You could even ask Peyote here about that.
He has a lot of words to say on that.
Well, not a lot. Actually, he has two.
'Off' and 'f*ck'.
Only usually, he contrives to put them
the other way round.
Mmm... Ha.
Squeamish.
Grotesquely squeamish for a medical
student. It's a problem. Really, er...
You call that 'sh**ting up'?
Mm-hm.
Is that heroin?
It's preludin.
Ah.
Preludin is a f*ck-pump,
I think I'm right.
I know that much.
It enlarges your sexual capacity.
You're meant to stay hard for 24 hours.
Is that not...?
I believe that's right.
I had a guitar once.
When I was young.
Had a guitar.
And a drum.
You make conversation seem
a little unreal.
I suppose the silence is what...
turns you on.
Yes. I know. f*ck off.
Certainly. By all means.
- Don't touch it!
- Right.
Oh, are you...?
Just gotta change this plug.
Will it take very long?
Don't know, it's a technical thing.
Is it going to be good tonight?
It's gettin' really nasty out there.
What?
The audience.
They're stamping all over the lawn.
Aw, f*ck!
What?
Forgotten the flowers.
Everyone's now ready
for the orchestra, sir.
Well, tell them
they're just getting into their dickies.
I think you'll have to make
some announcement, sir.
They're getting very restless
having to wait.
Tell them... er...
Tell them they are coming
just as fast as they can.
Ah, do you think they're almost...?
Ready? They're on rock time.
Get used to it.
I have, over the years.
Rock time isn't the same as human time.
Punctuality is an offence
against the spirit.
They got the place right, didn't
they? That's three-quarters of the battle.
The time
the time is a sophisticated detail.
I don't know, Mr Snead.
What is this place, anyway?
You are in what scientists now know
to be a black hole, Peyote.
Floating free.
An airless, lightless, dayless,
nightless time lock.
A cosmic accident
called Jesus College Ball.
- Jesus!
- College Ball.
What's it mean?
It means the college
at which I was educated.
Do you remember, Mr Snead?
I remember you, sir.
I remember all the young gentlemen.
It means undergraduates.
- Narcissists.
- Yahoos.
The student body
in it's primping intellectual prime.
Rich, complacent, self-loving,
self-regarding, self-righteous
phoney, half-baked, politically immature,
neurotic...
..evil-minded little shits.
Expect nothing,
and you will not be disappointed.
Internal memorandum,
Rhyl Town Hall.
The life expectancy of a civic deckchair
is now a season and a half.
- He used to clip tickets.
- Yes, God, I was at this college.
Indeed, I know Mr Snead of old.
Give me that.
That's where I first met Maggie.
She was singing in the Red Lion.
16, 17, a folk singer.
Let us go a pickin' nuts
Fol-de-ray
At the Glastonbury fayre,
Diddle-di-dum ay
I had to carry her over the wall
can you imagine to get her to my room.
They build walls here
to stop undergraduates making love.
Well, we got caught, of course,
by this very f*cking Mr Snead
coming in, satirical German manner,
even shining a torch.
Bof! An English suburban Sturmfhrer.
And he hauled me up to my tutor,
who said,
'Do you intend to marry the girl?'
I said, 'Er, not entirely.'
He said, 'Well, as this is your first
offence, you will not be sent down.
'Instead, I'll fine you 10
for having a girl on the premises.'
I said, 'What you mean
like a brothel charge?' I was furious!
I was out of my mind and everyone told me
don't waste your energy
because that's what they want.
They invent a few rules
that don't mean anything
so that you can ruin your health
trying to change them.
Then overnight they re-draft them
because they didn't really matter
in the first place.
One day, it's a revolution
to say 'f*ck' on the bus.
Next day,
it's the only way to get a ticket.
That's how the system works.
An obstacle course.
Unimportant.
Well, perhaps.
The word Cicero
literally means 'chickpea'.
Oh, God.
I think I'd better go and...
Oh, don't! Don't go away.
Sit down,
tell us something about yourself.
I'm sorry. It's just so late.
People appreciate things more
when they've had to wait.
That's not how we advertised.
Let them suffer.
We didn't sell tickets on the quality
of the suffering we could offer.
Well done. Whole sentence!
She says she's not going on tonight.
- Oh, no.
- It's fine. Don't panic.
It's quite all right, it's fine, mate.
The nights she's not going on are fine.
It's the nights she can't wait to get on,
they're the ones to watch for.
- How we doing?
- Fine.
Must be almost time.
Yes.
Only one man has actually died
on television. In a television studio.
He was sitting on a stool,
talking about health food, about honey.
And he just fell over and died.
- Fantastic!
- Oh, it's so good!
Oh, it's so very good!
It's a very long search
for a very short feeling.
I wouldn't have minded a sound check.
When did you last have one of those?
Barnsley. Halifax. I don't know.
They carry me about in a sealed container.
And sometimes the seasons change.
Or we run over a dog. Or they change
the design on me cigarette pack.
I don't know.
It seems to be what she wants.
It's needless, you know.
It just makes her feel good.
How is she to you?
Unspeakable.
Ah.
She treats me barely human.
Still?
More than ever.
She's jealous.
I don't see why...
There's a wheel comin' off the van!
It's all right, Peyote.
It's just a brain cell dying.
It's coming off!
It'll be horses in a minute.
On sweeties he always has horses.
- I'm sorry but I have to insist...
- What is wrong with you?
I don't think I've ever met a man
with so little karma.
How can I...?
You should leave your brain to a Buddhist
hospital, they'd be very interested.
We are waiting
for one plug to be connected?
Correct.
It's ridiculous, it's...
Don't touch it.
It's absurd.
I'm sorry, I just can't...
Don't f*ck' touch it,
you miserable little turd.
Just leave it to Inch.
- Inch changes a mean plug.
- Inch is a great roadie.
Inch is the Panama Red of roadies.
So great a roadie,
he even gets to play with the band.
- Beat that.
- I'm...
- It's just best, OK?
- She says she's goin' on.
- Says she can't wait to get out there.
- Oh, f*ck!
Now...
What? I'm nearly ready.
- sh*t, there was something.
- Plug?
I just gotta change this plug.
It's fine. No hurry. Enjoy it.
I can't work if I'm watched.
A pullet is a pullet till
the first time it moults. Then it's a hen.
Sussex have never won
the County Championship.
Marilyn Monroe was colour blind.
Oscar Wilde died
Sebastian Melmoth.
Two gallons to one peck.
Four pecks to one bushel.
Eight bushels to one quarter.
Four and half quarters to a chaldron.
One hectolitre per hectare
equals 1.1 bushels per acre.
Whoa! Winner! f*cking winner!
Right, ready when you are.
- I think we're ready.
- OK. Band?
You might want
to plug it in first, then we'll join you.
Fine.
I'm not gonna walk there
if the plug's not gonna work.
- Get your sneakers dirty.
- Quite.
Well, everyone...
let me say, er...
Go out there and break a leg!
- What a horrible little man.
- He's very short, isn't he?
Yeah, an' that horrible black hair
makes him look like a lavatory brush.
- Someone had better...
- Peyote!
- Agh! Horses.
- I told you.
Come on, Peyote,
once through the Christmas oratorio.
- You take one arm.
- Yeah, come in loud, Nashy?
Drum all over him
if you find he's on the floor.
Will do.
There's horses pounding down The Mall.
Right, right, Peyote.
I wish we'd found something more...
more kinda staggeringly boring.
Ask me what I want.
What, in life?
Ask me what I want to do in life.
What do you want to do in life, Smegs?
All I want to do in life
is play the guitar.
Is anybody gonna let me?
- Are you going to watch?
- What?
Arthur.
Yes, of course, yeah.
I'll see you later?
Good.
Don't drift away from me.
Paganini played the violin so well
people thought
he was in league with the devil.
In a caf called Disaster
We met beneath the stars
Looked down on by the customers
As if we came from Mars
In a caf called Disaster
Sheltering from the rain
You said, 'You are a miracle'
'Follow me, I'll bring you fame'
Will you always be this close to me
When you're far, when you're far
When you're far away from me?
And will you always,
will you always be this close to me
When you're far, when you're far
When you're far away from me?
And will it always be the same?
Too tired to remember
And too restless to forget
You say the show is over
But it isn't finished yet
You may be flying like a kite
While I'm a stale turn
Singing someone else's words
Before I crash and burn
Will you always be this close to me
When you're far, when you're far
When you're far away from me?
And will you always
Will you always be this close to me
When you're far, when you're far
When you're far away from me?
And will it always be the same?
Bah!
Canterbury,
we are Maggie Frisby and The Skins.
Mamma said I had the morals
of an alley cat
Just because I wanted more
Sister f*ck' Rita
Was a mean child beater
But she said I was a high-street wh*re
I'm burning down the freeway
Like a shootin' star
Bitching how my life is run
Learning how to shake it
In the back of a Bedford
Taking it from every m*therf*cker's son
Shut your mouth, honey
I don't wanna know your name
Shut your mouth, honey
I don't care why you came
Pass me the bottle
Roll over, let's do it again
Say you wanna save it
For someone special
And you know that that's a lie
If you don't holler
When the lights go out
Life is gonna pass you by
I gotta reputation
as a one-night stand
And kinda precious, too
If you let a greaser
Stay another night
They're gonna get a lease on you
Shut your mouth, honey
I don't wanna know your name
Shut your mouth, honey
Shut your mouth, honey
I don't care why you came
Pass me the bottle
Roll over, let's do it again
I'm a sunflower lady
With a sweet electric band
I'm a sunflower lady
With a bottle and a man
Don't want quiet
I don't want care
When the sun comes up
And the lights blaze out
If you don't scream, honey
How do they know you're there?
Teachers they say I'm too alert
And that's why I won't get far
Oh, lovers they say I'm the glorious sun
But that sun sets when I'm at the bar
Clouds begin to roll in
And the acid rain it falls
Back to the river and let it start again
And now you'll always have me
crawling up your walls
Shut your mouth, honey
I don't wanna know your name
Shut your mouth, honey
Shut your mouth, honey
I don't care why you came
I don't care
Pass me the bottle
Roll over, let's do it again
I'm a sunflower lady
With a sweet electric band
I'm a sunflower lady
With a bottle and a man
I don't want quiet
I don't want care
When the sun comes up
And the lights blaze out
If you don't scream, honey
How do they know you're there?
Ooh
If you don't scream, honey
How do they know you're there?
- Sorry about that.
- Necrophilia.
Like f*ck' the dead!
Amateur night
at 'Arrods staff canteen.
Like floggin' a corpse. f*ck 'em!
- The b*stards.
b*stards!
What b*stards!
World's worst audience.
Cambridge University.
Wankorama!
Cambridge f*cking w*nk*ng
w*nk*ng f*cking audience!
Some woofter comes up to me
after the set and says,
'I was expectin' something
altogether more Dionysiac.'
I said, 'Thursdays we're Dionysiac.
Fridays we're just f*ck' awful!'
Right.
Not that I care.
- f*ck ' penguins!
- Right.
I'm sitting there and I'm thinking
the Marshall stack's up the spout
and the Vox AC30's gone on the blink,
and not even the tin-ears of Cambridge
are fooled.
- And that's just the first set.
- How long till the next one?
One o'clock and the last at 3:30,
then you can go to bed.
Sorry, lads.
Bit of a wobble on the Vox.
Wobble?
I've smeared it with pork fat.
- Usually does the trick.
- I've come to interview Maggie.
There is a reason
Jim Morrison of The Doors...
Oh, here we go again!
There's a reason Jim Morrison of The Doors
will become the greatest figure
in the history of rock.
- Because last month...
- Light my fire!
..at the Dinner Key Auditorium in Miami,
Florida, he did what we all want to do.
What none of us have dared to do,
he alone has done.
- He got his c*ck out!
- Girl, we couldn't get much higher!
So becoming the first person
to be arrested on stage. Legend or what?
- Legend.
- Yes, he goes down in history.
- And he did it for us all.
- What a gesture!
The ultimate gesture.
The only possible response!
- Utter contempt.
- That's right.
f*ck 'em!
- And I know how he feels.
- How do you think it went?
Mother born in Rotherham,
father born in Hillsborough.
They met up halfway
and lived all their life in Catcliffe.
- That's how me interview begins.
- Oh, Jesus.
- I must have been unhappy as a child.
- Oh, my God.
I would love something to eat, Laura.
Sure.
Oh, hello, Candy Peel,
I thought it was you.
Hello, Maggie.
Do you know why I call him Candy Peel?
Yeah, just cos he's got a small scrap
of that substance
hanging where real men have great big...
Thank you, Maggie, do the same for you.
Do you know how you survive in Catcliffe?
You say, 'This is not happening to me.'
That's what you say.
You say, 'I may appear to be stifling to
death in this crabby over-heated mausoleum
'with these cringing waxworks
who claim to be my parents,
'but it's not true, I'm not here.
'I'm not here. I'm really some way away.
'And I am 50 foot up.'
Right.
- In fact, I'm a Viking.
- Have you got this?
I'd write this down, if I were you.
In another age, I was a Viking.
Reincarnation.
I had a dream last night
I was called Thor.
I was wrapped in furs and I had strips
of dried meat tied round my waist.
I think we can guess
what the dried meat means, honey.
No nourishment in Catcliffe.
You drew no strength.
It was like living on the moon.
I have heard you saying that before.
Listen, kid.
You asked for an interview,
I'll give you an interview.
If you want a new interview,
you've gotta pay more.
Do you understand me?
Yes.
Sorry.
Come to rub me rub my back, Arthur?
Give me the bottle.
I won't drink it before I go on stage!
I just like to hold it, OK?
Ask me another question.
Would you say...?
Yeah!
Would you say that the ideas
expressed in popular music...
..have had the desired effect
of changing society in any way?
Hamburger.
Dill pickle. That's what I want.
- I got the g*y boy back.
- Ah, come in, waiter.
Oh, eh-up, rimmer.
It must have been you in the tub just now.
- Sir?
- Sorry, did you say sir?
That's all right,
I'm just one of the boys.
Hamburger, please, Mr Snead,
with dill pickle.
And relish and French fries.
And a Coca-Cola.
Ooh, and a banana split with hot chocolate
sauce and chopped nuts and tinned peaches.
And frankfurters?
Frankfurters for everyone, yes?
With French mustard. And I fancy some
toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches.
On brown bread, by the way.
I'm a health freak. Write that down.
Got that, Mr Snead?
I'm afraid
I'll have to send out for this.
- You think you could give me some money?
- Money?
Don't make with the jokes, rimmer,
it don't go with the grovelling.
I can get you something
from the college kitchen.
Just get us
whatever's nice and greasy
- and answers to the name of Rover, OK?
- Sir?
Then the first time that I heard
Bessie Smith, that was something.
- Off you go.
- Sir.
I was 14, I was in a record shop.
Did you know that as well?
Actually, I read your press release.
Did you?
I reckoned he should.
Yeah, well, I do have some life
outside my press release.
I can't remember where I put it,
but I do know I have it.
Do you want to change
before the next set?
What you gawping at?
Looking at you.
What, you still looking at the tragedy?
That was over there.
The girl with no life of her own.
I left her over there.
That easy?
Tragedy's easy, lad. I pick it up,
I sling it off. It's like an overcoat.
- What is she on?
- Arthur!
Will someone please tell me
what this woman is on?
I'll tell you
the story of my life, shall I?
Everyone in Catcliffe hated me.
They hated me when I was a child cos I was
big and fat and I took no sh*t off anyone.
What's this for?
A university paper.
Oh, for f*ck's sake!
Er...
Right, then they sent me to a convent.
Anything you've heard
about randy nuns you, forget it.
They've got t*ts like walnuts.
Leathery little minds.
But me?
I'm like a great big slurpy
bag of wet cement
just waiting to be knocked...
knocked into shape.
Everyone at the convent,
they hate me, too.
- You...
- How did I lose it?
That what you want to know?
I wouldn't dare to ask about...
I lost it to an American airman on top
of a tombstone in Kiveton Park cemetery.
He was very scared.
I was only 13 and, well, he didn't want
to lose that pilot's licence.
Ha-ha! Write this down for Christ's sake,
it's good.
God, then even the American
got to hate me, didn't he, Laura?
Oh, yes.
She was at school with me, you see.
We both had it, this English education.
Takes a long time to wipe
that particular dogshit off your shoe.
And Arthur?
Arthur.
Arthur I meet when I'm 17.
God.
A case of Trilby.
Which one was Trilby? I never know.
The woman is Trilby.
No, ain't she Pygmalion?
He's Pygmalion. She's Dolittle.
Right, and the monster's Frankenstein.
No.
No! Is the doctor Frankenstein?
- The monster doesn't have a name.
- The man is Svengali.
Yeah, well, he reinvents me.
I join this band and it's four of them
and they're already called The Skins.
So, I think they should be renamed
The Four...
Do you get it?
Yeah, I... I get it.
- But the management wouldn't let me.
- That's terrible.
That's pure censorship.
No. It's actually very sensible.
Do you want to change?
Oh, yeah, Laura,
I'd love to change.
Are there...
any other singers you greatly admire?
It's a funny thing you'll find singers,
they tend to admire Billie Holliday.
Same as jazzmen,
they admire Charlie Parker.
Conductors all say they admire Toscanini.
- Summat to do with how they're all dead.
- No competition.
- Yeah.
- Among the living?
This is all real, you know, kid.
None of the others can say that.
I've never had a nose job.
Or a face lift. Or me jaw straightened
or me chin pushed in.
No paraffin wax, no mudpacks.
These are all my own teeth.
This is it this is the real thing.
I'm the only girl singer in England
to have not been spun out of a soya bean.
You never seem very happy
to have been English.
What would you have rather been?
American.
Why?
America is a crippled giant,
England is a sick gnome.
I sing of the pain. Do you understand?
No.
The words and the music, they're Arthur's,
but the pain is mine.
And the pain is real.
The quality of the singing,
it depends on the quality of the pain.
Yeah.
Well, what do you study?
Oh, er... medicine.
Oh, brilliant.
Well, yes, in a way.
Except I don't seem very suited.
It's not my...
Anyway, I don't want to bore you
with my problems.
What would you like to be?
Well... I...
I don't know, if I was free...
Round the back of the bike sheds?
After the show? Would you like that?
Bike shed?
Ha-ha! It's a figure of speech, kid.
You could stand on a beer box,
reach up to her.
Contract an itch
that will persist your whole life.
First man I knew played rock music
was nothing, a real nobody.
Well, I say rock music. It was really all
that camp dancing the groups used to do.
Anyway, this bloke got his big break,
bottom of the bill with The Who.
National tour.
At the end of the tour, he got back
to Sheffield, he packed it in.
I said, 'You got depressed
cos they're so good.'
And he says, 'I got depressed
cos they're so very good,
'and even they ask
the same questions I do every night.
'"Where's the money?
'And "where are the girls?"'
And that is it.
Where, indeed, is the money?
And where are the girls?
You know Jimi Hendrix,
he gets depressed, well he gets livid.
He says people don't come
to hear his music, not really to listen,
but just cos they've heard
he's got a big c*ck
- and he plays the guitar with his teeth.
- Yeah!
And I say, sure Jimi, love. Ah, you're
right to complain, people are c**ts.
But... wouldn't it be an idea
to stop wearing tight trousers?
And maybe give up
clapping your mouth round the strings?
I think I'd better keep an eye
on Peyote tonight.
- He'll be all right.
- He may need looking after.
Oh, if it makes you feel good,
Sister Mary Laura
That hat.
What?
I want that hat.
I'm gonna wear that hat tonight.
- Peyote got any chicks lined up?
- He didn't say.
- Well, where's he gonna put it?
- Can't guess.
He can't go around with blue ba*ls
all night. Laura.
I get sentimental about my body, Maggie.
Everything else I give to the band,
but the body, I still like to choose.
You couldn't make her with monkey wrench.
Arthur will tell you all about that!
End of interview.
Laura here is my press secretary.
Anything else you want to know...
I only sleep with very stupid men!
Write this down.
The reason I sleep with stupid men is
they never understand a single word I say.
That makes me trust them,
so each one gets told a different secret,
some terrible piece of my life
that only he will know.
Some separate... awfulness.
But he won't know the rest,
so he can't understand and then...
the day I die, every man I've ever known
will make for Wembley stadium.
And each, in turn,
recount his own special little bit.
And when they are joined...
..oh, they will lighten up the sky.
Come on, kid, I'll change after.
- No point in getting another dress dirty.
- No.
- Hey, Maggie, the food.
- Not hungry.
Just leave it there,
will you, Mr Snead?
Madam.
And thank you.
She knows what she's doing.
Always.
- That's what I learnt.
- Yes.
She knows the effect she's having.
Even when she's smashed,
when she's flat out on the floor,
there is still one circuit
in her brain thinking,
'I am lying here, upsetting people.'
Yes.
There you go.
- Has she gone?
- Yes.
All right, everyone,
you can come out now.
The little fellow with her.
She swallowed him up
like a vacuum cleaner.
- Did she tell the Jimi Hendrix gag?
- Of course.
Did she say...?
Yes, she said it.
You haven't heard it yet.
I haven't heard it but she said it.
'I sing of the pain.'
She said that.
'The pain is real.'
The pain is bloody real.
- Mostly in the arse.
- All right.
Readings
from the London telephone directory.
- The game is...
- Oh no. No!
The game is, I read
from the London telephone directory.
You lot remain completely silent.
The first person
to make a sound is disqualified.
The winner is the person
who can stand it the longest.
- Oh, my God...
- Arthur!
You'll get yourself disqualified
before we begin.
Is that a promise?
Now, where shall I begin?
I think I was just
getting into the Smiths!
Smith, MA...
Saraffian comes,
and at once we have a party!
Poulet farci aux champignons.
Loot from the ball, my dears.
And 12 bottles of a bleak little
non-vintage Dom Perignon.
Za-za!
- Fantastic.
Za-za!
Just in case we don't get paid.
Wilson, you old dog,
I've come to show you this thing.
Put the crates down, come here.
Look.
Look at my glittering,
pigeon-chested youth.
How do you like it? My future star.
- Great.
- Dazzling.
Beautiful, isn't it?
I'm really proud.
He's gonna wipe up the q*eer market,
no question.
I were just...
Don't risk it! Just don't spoil it, lad.
Don't mess with the words, OK? Don't risk
them, they only get you into trouble.
Pl...
He wants to protest his heterosexuality.
Just don't mention it,
underplay it and we might believe in it.
Might.
Much better.
So... Hello.
Peyote, don't bother to come down,
just stay up there if you want.
So, I'm a fine surprise.
- Saraffian.
- My dear.
What you up to?
I've come to hear the band.
I've been trying to ring you
these last few days. Have you seen her?
The sun's going down.
A thousand golden chariots.
Leather. Metal. Horseflesh.
Careering down through the sky.
10,000 angels in a single file.
Have you seen her?
Well, I...
Did you hear the first set?
Certainly I heard it, I heard it all.
From beginning to end
and I'm hoping it will have earned me
some small remission in hell.
Look lively, open the bottles, son.
When are you going to talk to her...?
Whoa! This is nice.
Peyote, I saw your old woman last night.
Would you believe it,
she has another husband! Still only 19.
Still queen of the teenybopper divorcees.
What's he like?
A very charming, easy-going bloke.
Nose-flute player in a monastery band.
- She's not very well, Saraffian.
- Let's have a game.
- Snap?
- Poker.
- Monopoly.
- Lost the board.
- Saraffian.
- Peyote swallowed the boot.
- And she's drinking again.
- Yes.
- Arthur, will you tell him?
- I'm not gonna...
Why do you think she drinks?
I never ask.
In my profession you expect
to spend a portion of your time
sitting by a hospital bed.
Listen, I...
I've got very good at it.
I think the ultimate accolade
of my profession should not be a disc.
It should be a golden hypodermic.
Saraffian!
What is this?
A courtesy call on one of my bands...
Don't be stupid, a courtesy call?
When did you last see a band on the road?
Glenn Miller, I think.
Saraffian, why does she drink?
Why do we discuss her all the time? That's
why she drinks, so we'll discuss her.
You know, so we won't have time
to do things like cut our fingernails
or make love to our wives.
That's why she drinks.
So as to stop any nasty little outbreaks
of happiness amongst her acquaintances.
Ooh!
Any glasses for this stuff?
And Arthur coming?
Is that your idea as well?
- Kid...
- Why? It only screws her up!
Please leave it, Laura. No answers.
Absolutely no point in the questions.
I see. Can I say anything at all?
No.
Can anyone say anything?
No.
I am very grateful, Laura,
for all the work you have done...
Don't crawl up my arse, Saraffian.
What is Arthur doing here?
He...
I wanted to come.
What?
He wanted to see her.
Arthur?
His own idea.
Just to see her, for Christ's sake.
I wanted to see her, is that...?
Just to see her.
Everyone should love everyone!
Take the global view, Laura, please.
Champagne.
Ease up, will you, Laura?
You're doing Joan Crawford out of a job.
sh*t! A man can love two women at once,
I've seen it done.
The human heart.
Shall we ever understand it, Tone?
I...
The answer is no.
The boy adored her.
Now he feels responsible, so...
- And...
- Well...
Finally! If musicians ran the world
there wouldn't be any of this hassle.
- Dubbin. Brass. Bells.
- What's up with him?
Streakin' through the sky.
The household cavalry itself.
- He's on horses again.
- Pomades. The royal horses!
Said in the newspaper
70% of adult males dream regularly
of f*cking Princess Anne.
Quite right. I mean,
what's the royal family for if not to...
- Dream.
- And a cry of hallelujah.
Shall we play the telephone game?
I can't tell you
the beauty of this profession.
Years ago, when I was young, it was full
of people called Nat and Harry and d*ck
in brown suits and two-tone shoes,
with thick chunky jewellery
as if someone had splattered hot melting
gold over their body with a watering can
and it had set in great thick blobs.
And golden discs on the walls,
and heavy presentation ballpoint sets
on their desk.
Would sell you
their grandmother's wooden leg.
Nat did sell his grandmother's
wooden leg after she died, admittedly.
And they muttered the totem phrases
of the trade
like, 'Tell him I'll get back to him.'
There was no higher compliment
an initiate could be paid
than to be taken out for pickled brisket
and beetroot borscht
and to be told in perfect confidence,
'The real dough's in sheet music, my son.'
And they snapped great white fingers
round the piano
and used words like 'catchy' and 'wild'.
And the artists, well, the artists bore
no connection to the world I knew.
When Nat travelled,
he carried them in the back of the van
with a sliding glass partition
between him and them
so he wouldn't have to listen
to their conversation.
It was organised crime, really,
those days.
That's what interested me.
The blatancy of it.
The damn-fool screaming stupidity
of popular music. I loved it!
You want me to sack her?
You all want her to go?
You are making the Mafia sign.
OK.
- Where are the people?
- In the dinner tent.
Oh.
They're having dinner.
In the dinner tent.
You ought to put this on.
The other one's got dirty.
Laura, the boy, the student.
Yes, I can imagine.
The journalist.
Yes, yes, I know who you mean.
Er, well, he was in a bit of a state.
I couldn't believe it.
Yes.
He goes, 'Your thighs are so beautiful.'
'Your thighs are so beauti...'
Well, Laura, you've seen my thighs.
Yes.
I said, 'I'd rather you didn't.
I'd rather you just...'
You'd better go on.
He said, 'Your body is like a book
in which men may read strange things.
'A foreign country
in which they may travel with delight.
'Your cheeks like damask,
the soft white loveliness of your breasts
'leading to the firm dark mountain peaks
of your...' Laura!
Now I'm dreading which part of my body
he's gonna choose next
on which to turn the great white beam
of his f*cking sincerity.
'Between your legs, the silver comets
spiral through the night.'
'I lose myself, ' he says.
'How beautiful you are, Maggie.
'And how beautiful
life ought to be with you.'
Don't.
Yeah, so, I...
I don't want to know.
No.
Eventually, I went, 'Please!' Faking.
He says yes, of course.
He stops talking, and we wait.
For 30 minutes!
For 30 minutes, it's like trying
to push a marshmallow into a coinbox.
And then he manages.
Well, in his way.
Afterwards, he said, 'It's all my fault!'
I said, 'No, mine.
Perhaps the choice of location.'
And he says, 'It can't be your fault.
'You have made love to the most brilliant
and beautiful men of your generation.
'You have slept with the great.'
And I said, 'There are no great.
'There is no beautiful.
'There's only the thin filth
of getting old!
'The thin layer of filth
that gets to cover everything.'
So, off he goes.
Za-za.
Where's Arthur?
Oh, God! I used to love that man.
Yeah.
He used to make me feel good, though.
He used to make me
want to curl up, foetal.
Across the way, they...
they're talking about you.
I'm a zeppelin. I am 50 foot up!
Saraffian's here.
Saraffian?
Yeah.
Oh, f*ck me. Why has he come tonight?
I don't know.
It's a bum set. Bum gig.
Do you think he noticed?
Give me the bottle will you, Laura?
Arthur's travelled quite a long way.
Yeah.
Say 70 miles.
I think he's entitled to a little of your
time, if you can fit him in between...
Do you know, Arthur, he was a good man,
when we first met?
Really good man.
He used to leave half-finished joints
in telephone booths
just so passers-by could have a good time.
Listen, Maggie, I just think you could...
But he's become a little bit over-earnest
for me, don't you think?
I think the protest thing's over,
don't you?
Too quick to anger, too slow to joy.
We've got to look around.
We've got to open a whole lot of windows.
If the revolution was gonna happen,
it would have happened by now.
I don't think 1970 will be the big year
and, anyway,
the real revolution,
that's got to come from the...
Inside? Why talk like that, Maggie?
Laura, give me the bottle.
Where does that stupid half-baked
bullshit come from?
Well...
If you really wanted rid of him
you wouldn't sing his songs.
And you wouldn't be afraid
to tell him to his face.
All my life, I've noticed people
in telephone booths, in restaurants,
heads down, saying things like,
'I don't want to see you any more.'
Once you start looking, Laura,
they're everywhere.
People running out of rooms,
asking each other to lower their voices
while they say, 'Ooh, you've got to choose
between her or me.'
Or 'Don't write me, don't phone me,
I just don't want to see you any more.'
People bent over, crawling into corners
at parties, sweating away
to have weaselly, tearful little
conversations about human relationships.
God, I hate all that!
It seems so clear.
I've finished with Arthur.
I'm fed up with his songs.
I'm resentful.
I'm jealous.
And I just want to be left alone.
And I don't want to look in his lame
doggy eyes!
God, the singing is easy.
It's the bits in between I can't do.
They're coming back.
Look at carrot-top over there.
Must be almost time.
Look, he's laughing now.
Oh, and his hand's coming up, look.
Oh! No, she's wriggled out of it.
She's saying summat.
I think his name's Rodney.
What did she say?
I dunno.
Something like,
'Don't touch me, Rodney.'
Christ, look at him.
He's taking it badly.
They're funny, the rich.
He's standing there gasping.
They do it all so slowly.
Like someone hit him with a cricket bat.
Jesus!
Ah... no, he's seen a friend.
Look, he's all right.
He's trotting away into the paddock.
'Hello, Roger! Hello, Rodney!'
Ooh, he's getting quite frisky now,
lifting his fetlocks.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
'Ha! All's well!'
You can't help wondering
what a b*mb would do.
- Hello, my dear.
- Saraffian.
Last night a met a new girl
in the neighbourhood
Something tells me
I'm into something good!
Come to check on your investment?
That's right.
Just merchandise to you, aren't we?
Sure are.
We could be anything.
Soapflakes we could be, lads.
That's fine by us, lads, in't it? Yes?
Hello? Arthur?
No, no.
It's not so easy, is it, no.
I believe the acid dream is over,
it said it in the Daily Express.
But, no, you and me, Maggie,
we still want to say something, yeah?
Love you.
Where are me shoes?
My funny Valentine
Sweet comic Valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Leonardo da Vinci drew submarines
500 years ago.
They looked pretty silly.
Today, we are drawing a new man.
He may look pretty silly.
God, you still think
it means summat, don't you?
You can't get over it, can you?
It's all got to mean something.
That's childish, Arthur.
It doesn't mean anything.
- Do you want the flowers?
- f*ck your flowers!
Haven't I seen Randolph before?
He used to be a drummer a year or two ago.
Used to lay down a beat for Petula Clark.
Petula Clark?
Well, he is nearly 35, you know!
They all come round.
It all comes round again.
I first knew Randolph in the '50s,
golden days of British rock.
Crepe soles, a tonic sol-fa, a change of
name, that was all you needed. He was...
Tony Torrent.
Right!
It never got better, you know.
Never got better than 1956.
Tat. Utter tat. But inspired.
The obvious repeated many times.
Simple things said well.
Then along came the boys
that could really play.
They spoilt it, of course, they ruined it.
They were far too good.
Hey, Saraffian?
I was just thinking maybe you could
shut the f*ck up!
Rock me, baby,
till my back ain't got no bone!
After that, the rest was downhill.
- Woo-hoo! Yeah! Let's go!
-
Just got back where's the party at
She said I'll never grow old
with a face like that
Yeah, you'll live forever
on a season's change
Yeah, it never really settles
while I stay the same
The elephant's back in the room again
You know it took its time
cos it can't pretend
To be the one not hiding
in an empty room
You wanna sing along
but you don't know the tune
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Y-eah, yeah
Bugs don't even bite my sour blood
They're all scared of the love
pumping through my veins
And just in case you don't feel much
Baby, I don't care
cos it all ends the same, yeah
It all ends the same and
Baby, I'm to blame
Just stop...
Come on!
I'm trying here!
Been singing this song five f*cking years.
There's no juice left in it.
I do suck.
I do suck. I suck and I suck and I...
Suck! But there's no f*cking juice left.
Mama!
Mama!
Mama! Mama, take your teeth out.
Cos Daddy wants to...
suck your gums!
Come on, drummer, one, two, three, four.
I just gotta...
That reminds me, actually.
Remember that gig in Wolverhampton?
Do the f*cking tune.
That last time this shite
was any f*cking good...
f*ck you!
I loved it in Wolverhampton!
I'd go back to Wolverhampton tonight.
Anyone driving to Wolverhampton?
Do you know what it's like singing songs
with no meaning every night?
Do you know what that's like?
I don't feel anything, not really.
They work me like a dog.
Like a dog. Well, no, you'd be nicer
to a dog. You'd give a dog a bone.
Or a ball. You would acknowledge
that the dog exists at all.
What? Come on!
Come on, this is meant to be a freak-out,
not a f*cking funeral.
I don't play funerals, they're sh*t.
One, two, three, four.
I think we should have a good talk.
- What I think we should do is...
-
What I think we should do is,
we should have a little talk about me.
Then I think we should talk about me.
Then I think you should all assume
something about me.
Then I think all your boyfriends should
think about me.
And then we'll take a break and make sure
you have all had a chance
to talk to each other
about what it is you think about me.
I'll give you an hand. It's mother born
in Rotherham, father born in Hillsborough.
Just f*cking get on with it!
Oh, eh-up, here he is. Have you
seen him? This is Wilson, everybody.
Wilson plays THE KEYBOARDS!
He were a child prodigy.
But when he got here...
He's always entertained the notion
of getting his trousers down
on account of the pain.
Well, this is your big chance.
f*ck off, Maggie!
f*ck off!
No! No!
OK.
Ladies and gentlemen!
The acid dream is over!
Let's just have a good time.
Yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah
Ye-eah!
Bugs don't even bite my sour blood
They're all scared of the love
pumping through my veins...
Great stuff.
Really terrific.
Where is she?
Getting her head kicked in.
It didn't get us very far.
- My jeans.
- Where did she get to?
My beautiful jeans.
f*ck off.
Winner of the 1969 Judy Garland award
- for boring, boring, boring.
- What the f*ck was that about?
Somethin' to do with the pain.
What pain?
Get a shower ready.
What f*ck' pain?
You know, the pain
that makes her such a great artist.
- I'm not washing her again.
- Anybody want her?
Put her down.
Someone explain to me what f*ck' pain.
The pain that she...
I know it's meant to be something to do
with the pain but what f*cking pain?
She can't even remember herself.
Something to do with her upbringing.
Well, if it's competitive lousy f*cking
upbringings, I lousy f*cking win!
By miles!
Something to do with being unloved? No.
She doesn't want to be loved.
She wants to be flattened
by a Sherman tank.
Leave her alone.
Of course. f*cking Arthur, the big man.
Tell her now! Tell her,
for God's sake! Get it over with!
It can't get worse.
She'll understand, she'll pretend not to.
- Just get it over with.
- What a cow!
Shut up!
Maggie?
- Maggie...
- She's listening.
Some pressure building up, my dear,
amongst us all. The boy...
I...
Shut up!
..in his stumbling way, I, in mine,
the band, all in theirs.
Arthur would like to be free of you.
He would like to set up home with Laura.
Yes.
And you're sacked. All right?
Stand easy! This is a raid!
You're all busted!
What matter?
Out of cavern comes a voice
rejoice.
I saw the second set.
She rather...
pushed the boat out, I thought.
Yes.
I saw the police about.
We got busted.
Gosh, I'm sorry.
Mmm.
Well, that's terrible. Vicious.
Vicious.
Terrible.
'Pop group busted.'
The home counties will love that.
Help them keep up that level
of self-righteous bad temper
they call justice.
What's everyone doing?
Who?
Everyone.
Oh, you mean the revellers?
Yes.
They've scattered.
It rather loses focus, you know,
till the champagne breakfast.
It's... all over the place.
Well, the dinner tent's a disco
and they've got an old Doris Day film
in the buttery.
Of course!
I do have a partner, you know.
Yes.
I rather lost track of her,
I'm sure she's...
Yes.
You were at this college?
I read music.
What happened?
I met Maggie. It seemed academic
just to go on reading it.
Yes.
At the time,
troubadour was a fashionable profession.
It was also really good fun.
Still the same sh*t-hole, eh?
I don't like it very much.
The people don't seem to have changed.
Oh, I don't know.
There are a few more totallys, you know.
I should think.
I share digs with a totally.
I mean, I call him a totally.
What happens is
he has his friends to tea.
I never stay, I just occasionally have to
let them in the door and I overhear them.
They're always sitting there and saying,
'The whole system is totally corrupt,
'And it's got to be totally replaced
by a totally new system.'
So, I just stand in the door and say,
'Couple more totallys for you, Tom.'
Hello, Peyote.
Arthur.
Now, if you happen to see a chick
wearing just a pair of red leather jeans
and a jockey's jacket,
let her know Peyote's looking for her.
Sure thing.
I'm hoping to drop out, you know.
After I get my degree.
I just want to groove.
Yeah, course you do.
But it's not so simple, is it?
The rules are so complicated.
It's three-dimensional chess.
Yes.
Just work at it, eh?
- Hello, Arthur.
- How they doing?
Still doing the interviews.
What they found?
Dunno. I think Peyote swallowed
a certain amount of the evidence.
- He's very quick.
- I wonder...
Where you off to?
Look for some crumpet.
Can I, er... Can I come with you?
No! You'd cramp me, Arthur.
Somewhere in that tent is my ideal.
What's that?
A short, dirty-minded blonde.
I've got a finger in my pocket.
Ah.
You know I'm a medical student?
Yes.
Can I show it to you?
I think it's rather a good joke.
Like a handshake, you know?
And one drops off. Ha.
Well, I cut up a corpse in the lab.
Here. It's, er... It is quite a good joke.
- Yes. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
- Here we are, lads.
Za-za. Small advance.
In lieu of. It's ten grand
to a spent rubber we don't get paid.
You must be mad,
the police are everywhere.
Well?
You can guard your own loot now.
What did they say to you?
Same as everyone.
Name, address and not to leave the area.
Do you know what they found?
Apparently, that Alsatian went berserk.
It found so much stuff its eyes
kept crossing and its knees have caved in.
Where's Nash?
Gone for a smoke in the bog.
Said he needed a joint
to calm himself down. Here, pepperpot.
Ooh, ta.
And Maggie?
Can't find her. Disappeared.
Don't say 'oh God',
that's what she wants you to say.
That's what you're programmed
to say, Arthur.
Where is she?
After the bust, she just slipped off.
Saraffian...!
Listen. She is sacked.
She had to be told.
She's not an entertainer.
I mean, entertainers make people happy.
You keep your nerve. Arthur.
Guv, can I...?
Here's something. Look. You gotta get
the little ba*ls into the little holes.
Right.
Do you know
how Saraffian made his money?
- Not us.
- No, real money.
Go on.
He used to wait for some Black group
to do well in the States,
you know like the Temptations,
then he says he's bringing them over.
It's a sell-out, of course.
Only, when they arrive they aren't quite
the same people they are in the States.
- They're just five guys he met in a bar.
- This is true.
Who he calls The Fabulous Temptations,
then teaches them the songs
the real group plays.
I've brought over
some great sounds this way.
And in England,
nobody can tell the difference.
Seeing as how they're Black.
You wouldn't try it with the Beach Boys.
Well, one or two cheap tricks, it's true,
people expect it.
The odd artist hung upside down
from a third-floor window.
It's all part of the show.
No doubt.
And Arthur feels strongly that...
All right.
No, come on, you feel strongly that...
It's not worth saying.
Nothing's worth saying.
It's all so obvious.
Has anyone got a f*g?
Gertrude Stein never
put her car in reverse.
Yes, there is the inkling
of an objection, just a smudge.
Perhaps the feeling Al Capone
might greet you in the street.
I told you.
Of course, it's a big organisation.
Fair number of clients, so if some junior
oddball wants to drive her band
until she's catatonic with fatigue,
with pills, with petrol fumes,
well, at least that's her taken care of.
Until you decide
to flick her off your balance sheet.
And if the damage is in her head
and irreversible,
at least you were many miles away.
- What's happening?
- Cambridge Union Debate.
- What's the subject?
- Ethics.
- County Championship?
- No. Not Ethex like Thuthex.
Ethics is like what you're meant to do.
I'm going to go and find her.
Take this.
- It's my finger.
- Course it is, lad.
I get screwed up, you know.
If you can imagine my life.
Er...
I... I just long to get away.
Join a band. On the road. Eh?
I wouldn't mind how menial.
Anything.
It's just that every day here
I know what the next day will be like.
Isn't that dreadful?
Go to lectures. Work in the lab.
And all the time
I want my mind to float free.
I want it to be above me like a kite,
and instead it's...
Why have I no friends?
And why does nobody talk to me?
And, of course, I'm being boring!
- Bloody hell!
- Well...
Never go to the pisser with that one,
he'd chop it off soon as look at you.
He's just lonely.
What else has he got in his pocket?
Bits of old toe and wee chunks of earlobe?
He's trying to be interesting, you know,
have some character.
'The man who goes round
with a finger in his pocket.'
Very casual, very interesting.
Rather dark.
He just wants to be liked.
You know the real K*llers?
Enlighten me.
The ones who just wanna be liked.
Where is she?
She's not in the tent.
- Nobody knows.
- 'Where is she? What is she on?'
Where is she?
Flogging her twat
to the Natural History Museum.
Look in the common room or the cricket
pavilion. She might be there.
Don't let her know you're looking!
- Nice boy.
- Yeah.
Let's have a look at that.
First day they met,
he drove her to the north of Scotland.
The northern sky was wide and open,
so that strange Hebridean light
came through white blinds
onto their bed in a perfect square.
A perfect white square
in a dark hotel room.
And they felt that that first night
they were almost not in the world at all.
I can give you more. Much more.
Many more moments of one thing or another.
Arthur is obsessed
what happened in rooms, on trains.
The telegram she sent, some pair of shoes.
- Everything.
- How do you know?
Oh, she told me.
Why?
She used to tell you everything.
To make you think it didn't matter to her.
That's why she told you
as a hedge against disaster.
Like her whole life.
You know what gets me is that
it's her we talk about all the time,
but it's Peyote
that'll actually k*ll himself.
- Has anyone seen Arthur?
- Oh, jeepers!
Where is he? What is he on?
I just wondered if anyone had seen him.
The footsteps, they go from left to right.
They stop there briefly and then we say...
Look in the common room.
Or the cricket pavilion.
But don't let him know you're looking.
You look puzzled and you depart.
What?
Next.
Laura,
just let me show you somethin'.
You see, doctor...
Wilson.
Oh, no! There it goes again!
Very funny
Laura,
I promise to concentrate next time.
Where did you stash it?
What?
The stuff.
Oh, we only had some giggle-weed,
and it...
And who carried the rest, the hard stuff?
Who carried that?
Shouldn't we talk about
the future of the band?
Yeah.
Do something different...
Don't tell me.
Well...
Did she know?
Look, she had the carpetbag.
It's only Peyote, he...
Did she know?
She's the bagman and she didn't know.
Yeah.
Think the police are gonna believe that?
It's true.
Course it's true, that's not the point.
The point is who gets to go to jail.
I have just been propositioned
by the rowing eight.
What did you tell them?
I told 'em I wasn't that sort of girl.
Peyote, you're gonna have
to come with me to the police.
You're gonna have to tell 'em
about this bag...
I said I'd smash a f*cking bottle
in their faces
It never works that. I never
believe it when they do it in films.
Who do they think I am?
Yes, Peyote.
I'm not anybody's.
No, no.
I'd rather busk.
I'd rather play free gigs.
I'd rather busk in the foyers
of VD clinics than play to these c**ts.
- Yes.
- It's pointless!
Oh, they've ruffled my f*ck' feathers!
It's pointless.
You'll never get through to him now.
All right, everyone. Find the girl.
I come from the rulers
you come from the ruled
We were making the film of our lives
And the media dwarves were howling
for a masterpiece
People were dropping like flies
The crew's on Librium
and I was on brandy
Struggling hard to get through
And the days and the nights were alive
With the hatred directed at you
Don't let the b*stards come near you
They just want to prove you're sane
To eat up your magic and change you
So, I'll help keep the b*stards away
Away
It was in your dark night of disaster
We watched as you smashed up your room
And Spanish and I we decided
We just couldn't stay in your tomb
In the morning I drove for the border
And Spanish he stayed till the end
But he had resources of humour
To which I just cannot pretend
Don't let the b*stards come near you
They just want to prove you're sane
To eat up your magic and change you
So, I'll help keep the b*stards away
Away
Now, I don't like singing with sailors
And I don't like drinking with fools
But I'll do anything that I have to
Because I know those are the rules
I know that the pain is like concrete
And the road is lonely it's true
And the load that we carry
is studded with nails
And this is my message to you
Don't let the b*stards come near you
Ooh
The b*stards come
They just want to prove you're sane
To prove you're sane
To eat up your magic and change you
So, I'll help keep the b*stards away
Don't let the b*stards come near you
They just want to prove you're sane
To eat up your magic and change you
So, I'll help keep the b*stards away
Away
Away
Away
Away.
Looking for you.
Everyone. Everywhere.
I was in the library.
Didn't think of that.
There are things you should be told.
Thoughts of St Ignatius.
Look. Pretty thin, eh?
Yes.
Yeah, poor value. Just whatever came
off the top of his head.
Maggie, there is a problem with the bust.
And I got you a trinket.
Thank you.
You can melt it down.
I will.
And you can pour it down your throat.
Maggie!
You really got me, Saraffian.
I know.
You did well.
The timing...
I was gonna quit.
I'm sure.
But I sacked you first.
Are you hurt?
Not in my overself.
And what does your overself say?
My overself says everything's OK.
Maggie, about this bust...
Why are girls who f*ck about
said to be tragic,
but men who sleep around,
they are leaders of the pack?
Why do people drink?
Cos they can't stand it!
Wrong. Need an excuse.
Fine.
They want to be addicted
so's to have something to blame.
'It's not me speaking.
It's the drink, the drugs.'
'It's not me can't manage.'
They want to be invaded,
so there's an excuse.
So there's a bit intact.
Well, I've never been addicted.
No?
No.
This goes through me like a gutter.
Even on heroin I knew I could beat it.
I did beat it.
There's just something in me
that won't lie down.
I've always pitied schizophrenics.
Oh, yeah?
Struggling along on two personalities.
I've got 17. I've got 21.
Like everyone else?
Do you know the purpose of reincarnation?
Not exactly.
You get sent back
because you failed last time.
I believe all we're doing here
is trying to avoid coming back.
I think you get sent back
cos you didn't get it right last time.
Basically, you get sent back
for having blown it the time before.
Well, this time...
I'm not gonna come back.
Nuh-uh.
I was a Viking, I was a Jew...
Ah.
I could get you through the Sinai desert,
no map, no compass.
I'd know. Just like that.
Really?
Why don't people take more care
of their overselves?
They just rub them in the mud.
Why is that?
It's a failing people have.
You don't believe a single word I say.
No. Neither do you.
I'll go to San Francisco, sing in a bar.
You never would.
Well, what am I gonna do tomorrow?
Tonight?
I thought you had the little fella.
Don't patronise me, Saraffian, please.
The finger freak. What happened to him?
I don't know! Oh.
I gave him some acid.
I told him to get high.
How'd you get it?
What?
The acid.
Some creep who liked the way I sang.
Have the police talked to you?
Don't worry, this is legal,
it's all I've got.
Hey, I've started writing songs now.
Yeah.
I thought it was time.
Does Arthur know?
You're not my manager now.
That's right.
Do you know why I liked you as my manager?
I have a fairly shrewd idea.
Because you were such an unspeakable sh*t.
That's right.
That's why everyone likes
to be handled by me.
I'm an excuse. Any artist stands
next to me looks like a saint.
Canonisation. Cheap at 20%.
So, why did you like me?
I don't know.
Two-bit band, one of 500, 1,500.
Tunes were better
and the singer had ba*ls.
But where did I get you?
One week in the Melody Maker at number 84.
And what's called a minor cult.
I'd rather have leprosy than a minor cult.
Some booking manager rings,
says, 'What you got?'
I say, 'Maggie Frisby and The Skins.'
He goes, 'No, no, no, no.
I never take minor cults.'
You have it round your neck
in letters of stone.
So, what happened?
Well, what happens to everyone.
Bands just break up
travel too much, drop too much acid.
57 varieties of clap.
Become too successful!
Never your problem, my dear.
They break up
because they don't feel any need.
I don't mean fame, that's boring,
or money, that's a clich.
Course, it goes without saying
that money will separate you
from the things you want to sing about,
we all know that.
I mean need, Maggie.
Where's the f*cking need?
Yeah. I don't know.
What do you think?
I don't know.
I don't sing.
In Russia, the peasants could not speak
of the past without crying.
What have we ever known?
One of the nuns, she weren't as bad
as the rest. Only in her 20s.
She took me down to this river,
and we bathed together.
She was all right.
I was probably 12.
Or anyway, we... we tried to bathe, but
this river, it was all thick with reeds.
So, afterwards,
we laid on the bank together, drying out.
The sun was shining,
and she took my head in her hands.
And she went,
'Inside this skull is the most beautiful
piece of machinery God ever made.'
She said, 'Remember, for you,
a fair-haired English child...
'..everything is possibility.'
'And never let anyone tell you otherwise.'
The sun blazed and her hands
enclosed my whole skull.
Saraffian.
Thank you.
Mm.
Great relationship.
Great creative control.
Maggie...
Great help in career
at a time most needed.
Never forgotten.
But farewell.
Maggie, the band never got around
to telling you
they stashed their stuff in your bag.
That means
the bust sort of settles on you.
OK.
Try prison for a while, why not?
Eh?
Is that all right?
Cigarette.
No, thank you.
You know...?
You know how people crap on
about Hollywood in the '30s?
Yeah.
Long books about Thalberg
and Louis B Mayer.
Who rubbed the ice-cubes
on Jean Harlow's n*pples?
But nobody notices that we're living
through something just as rich,
just as lovely.
And in 30 years' time they'll write books
about the record business
of the '50s and '60s.
What it was like
to have known Jerry Wexler.
Or glimpse Chuck Berry
at the other end of the room.
Ooh, do you really think?
I'm banking on it.
If I'm to have had any life at all.
It's gonna look so special.
Once it's over, of course.
Upper-class c**t,
it's in a world of its own.
'Ere, smell my fingers.
Thank you, no.
Just dab some behind yer ears...
Inch!
Now I'm hungry.
They should invent a machine.
What?
Gratify all your senses at once.
Well, I did know someone who used
to eat Complan while sitting on the can.
He was into his head, you see,
he despised the body.
So, he figured it best, right,
to sit shovellin' it in at one end
and pushin' it out at the other,
and that way, just get the whole thing
over and done with.
Now, I reckon he could have
spared his left hand as well...
Quite.
Do the lot in one go.
Yeah, well, the rest of us,
we spread our pleasures so thin.
- Correct.
- What's happening?
- Did you find him?
- No. Is she all right?
Yeah.
Get ready for the third set.
It's cancelled.
- Here we are!
- That's not ours.
Well, Saraffian said nick something,
so I nicked something.
Can't nick that, can we?
We can't get it in the van.
Let's have a ball of our own!
- Did you speak to the pigs?
- They got a ball. I want a ball.
- How are you feeling, Peyote?
- Fantastic. Let's have a party.
He's right back up there.
How does he do it?
Listen, mate,
if you'd dropped as much stuff as me...
It always comes back to this.
You lot'll never understand...
If there's one thing I really despise
it's psychedelic chauvinism.
I want some fun.
'I've had more trips than you.'
Fun!
Well, if you like, I could always...
What?
Set light to my fart.
No, we've seen that!
Dozens of times.
One streak of blue flame and it's over.
- Can't you do anything else?
- Yeah.
- I do bird impressions.
- Really?
Yeah. I eat worms.
I'll need a f*ck
in about 45 seconds.
- Did you take sweeties again?
- I'm not gonna last.
This little ball just won't go in.
You may stop!
You may sing with the band.
But I've not got the little ball...
Tony!
Show 'em what you can do.
What key are we in?
Ball gown baby
Bubble gum queen
Left her body
in my bright red jeans...
She
Said hello
That was that
Didn't have time to check my hat, so
Let's have a party, let's paint the town
Let's have a party,
chase away that frown
Let's have a party, let your hair down
Ball gown baby
Bubble gum queen
Saw her picture in a magazine
Said she goes down
The butterfly flicks
All of them changes, all of them tricks
Yeah
Let's have a party
Let's paint the town
Let's have a part
Chase away that frown
Let's have a party
Let your hair down
Ball gown baby
Bubble gum queen
Spread some sauce on my baked beans
Ha-ha-ha.
Said, 'Hey, I got you a special treat'
Be-bop-a-lula, let's eat some meat
So
Let's have a party
Let's paint the town
Woah, yeah
Let's have a party, chase away that frown
Please, have a party
Let your hair do-own
Yeah!
Let's have a party
Let's paint that town
Let's have a party
Let's chase away that frown...
Hold it, hold it, hold it, hold it,
hold it, HOLD IT!
What do I always say
about the only skill in music?
The only skill in music is...?
Getting paid.
We need that little bloke,
the one that booked us.
The one with the finger?
Yes.
Nah, you won't find him.
Some cretin gave him acid.
They took him to hospital,
stupid little sh*t.
Oh, dear.
We're gonna have to sort that out.
Tony, ring Mrs Saraffian,
say I'm not gonna get back tonight.
So, she's to change
the budgie's sandpaper.
OK?
Will do.
- What the hell's going on?
- Arthur!
I just talked to the police.
Don't worry, everything's in hand.
They seem to think
Maggie's been pushing the stuff.
That's right.
Who the hell put the stuff in her bag?
I am just gonna phase out...
- He knows what's going on.
- I'm just gonna go and get laid.
He's a bit f*cking selective
what he blocks out.
Arthur, it's all right.
We'll deal with it, I promise.
Oh, yeah, like you've dealt
so brilliantly with everything so far?
- Did you tell Maggie?
- Yes.
Does she know she's gonna get done?
Oh, yes.
Well, what does she say?
Well, to be honest...
she doesn't seem to mind.
Guv, you'd better come quick.
She's burning down the tent.
Maggie!
Maggie, are you there?
- Are you there?
- Arthur!
- Ah.
- I'm here!
But I'm naked
and I'm covered in coconut oil.
Oh, f*ck! What was that?
- That's a rugby post.
- Cor, you've done pretty well.
- Thank you very much.
- Yep.
Police, ambulance, fire brigade.
You just got to score the Coastguard
and you got a full house.
Thank you. And what's the damage?
Ah, it's not bad.
No, I can't see many flames.
No, no, no.
They're all coping rather well.
They all love it, dashing about in the
smoke. Hope to make it an annual event.
- Really?
- Just a bit of fun.
How you been?
All right.
I haven't seen you for a long time.
Must be, like, six months.
What you been up to?
Nothing much.
I had the flu.
What else?
Oh, er... Nash finally discovered 5/4.
No, really?
Yeah.
Somewhere between here and Hull.
I think he'd been doing it,
I just don't think he'd noticed.
Have you got a cigarette?
Yeah, yeah.
Can I have the whole pack, please?
Of course, yeah.
It's just if I'm gonna be arrested.
Here, look, look.
What were you doing?
What?
The tent, you just making sure?
Yeah.
Yeah, I was just making sure.
I can get you a lawyer...
Don't be stupid.
Hey.
What else?
Er, yeah, um...
Yeah, well, er...
Larry says you should come
and see him soon.
And Martha says will you cover the new
Dusty Springfield for the supermarket?
And, um, Derek...
Derek says... Derek says, er...
What does Derek say?
I don't know what Derek says.
Derek says, 'Far out. Wow, man.
Out of sight. Jeez.'
That's what Derek says.
I can't live without you.
I can't get through the day.
What else?
You said you loved me.
I did. I did love you. I...
I loved you the way that you used to be.
But it's you that's made me
the way I am now!
I know.
That's what's called irony.
On another bitter morning
You're still waiting for a sign
I was always selling nothing
An offer you couldn't decline
But I will smile
and say that everything is fine
It's not the first time
or the last I'll use that line
Stick it out or leave it all behind
And then tomorrow comes
With it another lie
When you go
Through the storm
And still come out wanting more
Then you'll know
As I do
There's no justice
but there's truth in all you've seen
You just have to be looking
Please go softly with your answer
I can't bear to hear the sound
Of another dawn defending
My desire to live out loud
There is no reason
There's no blame to why I cry
Once in a cage
a bird can still remember sky
If it tried to do more with its life
Than fly low enough so to survive
When you go Through the storm
And still come out wanting more
Then you'll know As I do
There's no justice
but there's truth in all you've seen
You just have to be looking
All yours?
All mine.
It's going to be hard for you, Arthur.
The wilder I got, the more you liked it.
I did your living for you.
We'd better go back.
- Maggie...
- No, nothing is gonna stop me!
No one!
Ever! Let me do what I want!
So much for small talk, eh?
Will you walk me back?
Right, yeah, yeah.
Poor Arthur.
You want so much to be hip, but...
..your intelligence,
it'll just keep shining through.
- Hey, watch where you drop that f*g!
- Ha ha
You don't want to start a...
What, start a...?
I just drove the van
across the cricket pitch.
Well done.
I reckon
the wicket'll be taking spin this year.
- There's some people looking for you.
- Oh, really?
Yeah.
Where?
Ooh, about 750 of 'em, and all around,
I'd say.
My dear!
Saraffian.
Well done. Very educational.
We have all learnt something tonight.
What's that?
Always put an arson clause
in the contract.
I'm gonna have to pay for this.
Inch, might as well nick it.
Right...
My God, but that was fun!
Bless you, my dear.
At a stroke, the custard is crme brule.
You have totally restored my faith
in the young.
- Is anyone hurt?
- That great blaze.
It reminded me. Can I tell you a story?
There is a story I want to tell you.
Congratulations!
Thank you.
That is really beautiful.
Oh, well, is it better than
taking your trousers down?
- Yeah, it's just a different thing.
- What I love about fire is...
- it's once and for all!
- Come on, lads.
Let's drag some naked women
from the flames!
It's so stupid it's wonderful.
Let me tell you about my evening
in the Caf de Paris.
- March 9th, 1941.
- You won't put it out with that.
It's not for the fire. It's for Peyote.
I was with this girl.
She's related to a Marquis
on her mother's side,
and me a boy from Tottenham whose dad
ran a spieler in his own back room.
So, I'm something of a toy,
a bauble on her arm.
She said,
'Please can we go to the Caf de Paris?'
So, I say, 'Fine.'
Off to Piccadilly Circus, Coventry Street.
You won't believe it,
but you went downstairs
into a perfect reproduction
of the ballroom on the Titanic.
And there they are!
A thousand young blades
and a thousand young girls
with Marcel waves in their hair.
So, out of chronic social unease,
I became obstreperous,
asking loudly for brown ale,
and 'which way to the piss-house'!
Showing off,
which gave me a lot of pleasure.
I remember they enjoyed me,
thinking me amusing.
And I was pretty pleased with myself.
The glittering heart of the empire,
the waiter leaning over me
to pick up the champagne.
And then, nothing.
As if acid had been thrown in my face.
The waiter is dead at my feet,
and the champagne rises of its own
accord in the bottle and overflows.
Two 50-kilo bombs
had fallen through the ceiling
and Snakehips Johnson is dead
and 32 others.
I look at the waiter.
He has just one sliver of glass
in his back from a shattered mirror.
That is all.
So, we're all lying there.
A man lights a match,
and I can see that my girlfriend's clothes
have been completely blown off
by the blast.
She is 21, and her champagne
is now covered in grey dust.
A man is staring at his mother
whose head is almost totally severed.
Another man is pouring champagne
over the raw stump of a girl's thigh
to soothe her.
Then somebody yells, 'Put the match out!
We'll die if there's gas about.'
And indeed there was a smell.
A yellow smell.
Then suddenly I realised that somebody,
somehow, God knows how,
had got down and come amongst us.
I just saw two men flitting
through the shadows.
I close my eyes. One comes near.
I can smell his breath.
He touches my hand.
He then removes the ring from my finger.
He goes.
He is looting the dead.
And my first thought is,
'I'm with you, pal.'
I cannot help it,
that was my first thought.
Even here, even now,
even in fire, even in blood,
I am with you in your scarf and cap,
slipping the jewels
from the hands of the corpses.
I am with you!
So, then a ladder came down
and the work began.
And we climbed out, and there we are!
An obscene parade, the rich in tatters,
slipping back to our homes.
And how low, how low can men get
stealing from the dead and dying?
And I just brush myself down
and feel lightheaded.
For the first time in my life,
totally sure of what I feel.
I climb the ladder to the street,
I push my way through the crowd.
My arm is grazed and bleeding.
I hail a taxi.
The man is a c*ck.
He stares hard at the exploded wealth.
He stares at me in my dinner jacket.
He says,
'I don't want blood
all over my f*cking taxi.'
He drives away.
There is a w*r going on all the time,
a w*r of attrition.
Good luck to you, Maggie.
Bollocks. I just wanted to go to jail.
They really do seem to want you,
Maggie. Can they have you?
What a load of sh*t.
You are so full of sh*t, Saraffian.
What a crucial insight
What a great moment in the Caf de Paris.
And what did you then do
for the next 30 years?
I'm sure it gives you some comfort,
your nice little class w*r.
Ties things up very, very nicely,
doesn't it?
Cos from the outside you look like
any other clapped-out businessman,
but on the inside, oh!
Inside, you've got it all worked out.
This man has believed the same thing
for 30 years, and it does not show.
Is that gonna happen to us?
f*cking hell! Somebody...
Somebody's got to keep on the move.
Laura, come here.
Look after Arthur.
You can have your hat back.
All the hats he wants to give you,
you can have.
Anything I said about you, I withdraw.
The tightness of your arse,
I was wrong, I'm sorry.
You're Mahatma Gandhi, you.
You're the Pope.
Arthur...
You're Cole Porter.
Or at least you will be.
Or at least nobody else ever will be.
Shall I let you know
how it goes in Stoke?
- If you make it.
- What?
I'm only guessing, but I'd take
a bet The Skins never play again. Oi!
- When did you cancel Stoke?
- About a week ago.
You know me too well.
Right, so, I go to jail.
Nobody is to think about me.
Nobody is to say, 'How is she these days?'
Nobody's to mention me.
Nobody's to say,
'How much does she drink?'
Nobody's to remember.
Nobody's to feel guilty.
Nobody's to think
they might have done any better.
Remember, I am nobody's excuse.
And, if you love me, you...
You just keep on the move.
Hello, boys.
What are you on?
On?
Transport.
Oh, um... motor-sickle.
Is there room on the back?
Sure, yeah.
Give us a tune?
One of those awful old ones...
I used to think it was so easy, you know.
'If I leave her, she'll k*ll herself.'
I thought she's only got one problem.
She doesn't know how to be happy.
But that's not her problem at all.
Her problem is
she's frightened of being happy.
And if ever it looked
as if she might make it,
if the clouds cleared and I, or some other
man, fell perfectly into place,
and everyone loved her
and the music came good,
that's when she'd k*ll herself.
It's not so easy, huh?
Just play us a dreadful old tune!
Laura, it just won't work between us.
Not now. It's too late.
That was the best night
I've had in years!
- Really brightened up the evening.
- Yeah.
I thought we was gonna have
a real flop on our hands.
Funny how plastic burns, isn't it?
All sort of blue
with little fringes.
- And Formica doesn't.
- Yeah, I noticed that.
I kept holding it in the flames,
but nowt.
There's hardly any petrol left
in the van. I can't find the spare can.
Maggie took it
to burn down the tent.
That's a bit f*ck' inconsiderate.
She might have noticed
we were short of gas.
Lend us a couple a quid then, lads.
Arthur?
Don't have it.
Right.
Sorry, Laura, but we are gonna have
to sell your body, and pretty bloody fast.
Somewhere between here and Baldock,
you'll have to do it in the road.
I've only waited six years.
You might have mentioned it before.
Yes. Yes, it was silly.
- I had a look at the cellars.
- Ooh.
The stock is remarkable. The 1949 Romanee
St Vivant is like gold dust, you know.
- Did you, er...
- Unfortunately, not.
They'd padlocked the racks.
- Laura, get your fat arse in 'ere!
-
Of course,
this college was once famous for its port.
I didn't know that.
Finest cellar of vintage port in England.
Then in 1940, when the dons
heard that Hitler was coming...
Hitler was coming...
Laura, can you stop crying?
Hitler was coming...
- I can't hear what Saraffian's trying...
-
They drank it.
So he wouldn't get
his fat German hands on it.
Their contribution to the w*r effort.
4,000 bottles in just 11 months.
- Fantastic.
- Yeah.
f*cking on a fire engine!
You won't believe it.
- What time is it?
- It's just gone four.
- Laura, are you coming with us?
- Yes. Yes. I am coming with you.
I don't know why you lot
make it so hard for yourselves.
Right, well, back into the little tin van.
Always makes me feel like a w*r hero.
Another night, another show,
another disaster,
but our moustaches are trim,
our lips are stiff,
our khaki's nicely creased,
and f*ck me
if we ain't whistling Colonel Bogey!
Good night, all.
Good night, Wilson.
- Good night.
-
I knew a guy, played in a band.
They were loud, they were very loud.
What I mean by loud is they made
Pink Floyd sound like a Mozart quintet.
And I said to him,
'Why the hell don't you wear muffs?
'In 18 months,
you're going to be stone deaf.'
He said, 'That's why we play so loud.
'The louder we play,
the sooner we won't be able to hear.'
And I can see us all.
Rolling down the highway into middle age.
Complacency.
Prurience. Sadism. Despair.
Don't worry about it. Have some brandy.
What?
Napoleon.
Waiting till those buggers had gone.
- Rung the wife.
- Thank you.
Bloke answered.
So...!
God bless you and... Saraffian goes.
Come along, Tony, long way to go.
Too late to count number plates.
We'll just have to sit and think.
Where is the money?
And where are the girls?
My relatives and friends
all think I'm barmy
Because I went away
and joined the Foreign Legion
My funny little ways
have got the others in a mess
I think it's time that I came clean
Decided to explain
It isn't just the season
That has given me the opportunity to do
What I have always wanted to do
And though we're stranded in the rain
Leaving on a midnight boat
At ease upon our chairs before the mast
The world is spinning round
Decidedly too much
We must hang on
Or lose our sense of drama
I've never seen faces so empty
I've never spent money so fast
You can't touch the important things
They keep them under glass
Good friends always tell you lies
Just doing what your bad friends
would never do
And nothing rhymes with 'orange'
But I love you
Sir.
Left these.
Left these behind.
Sir.
Thank you, Mr Snead.
Why are you so frightened?
Why is everyone so frightened?
Last orders on the Titanic
Set up the fol-de-rol
Tell the band to play that number
Better get it in your soul
Put the lifeboats out to sea
We've only got a few
Let the women and children drown
Cos, man, we've gotta save the crew
Because the ship is sinking
And the time is running out
We've got water coming in
Places we don't know about
The tide is rising
It's covering her name
The ship is sinking
But the music remains the same
The music remains the same
Last orders on the Titanic
Put your lifebelt on
We can't hear the captain shouting
Cos the band goes on and on
I only want to tell you
That you have my sympathy
But there has to be a sacrifice
And it isn't going to be me
Because the ship is sinking
And the time is running out
We've got water coming in
Places we don't know about
The tide is rising
It's covering her name
The ship is sinking
But the music remains the same
The music remains the same
Last orders on the Titanic
Get up and paint your face
Deckhands in dungarees
And millionaires in lace
I only woke you, baby
To say I love you so
But the water is up around my knees
Goodbye, I have to go
Because the ship is sinking
And the time is running out
We've got water coming in
Places we don't know about
The tide is rising
It's covering her name
The ship is sinking
But the music remains the same
Oh, the ship is sinking
And the time is running out
We've got water coming in
The tide is rising
It's covering her name
The ship is sinking
But the music remains the same
The music remains the same
The music remains the same
The music remains
The same.
Hello, ladies and gentlemen,
we are The Skins.
I come from the rulers
you come from the ruled
We were making the film of our lives
And the media dwarves were howling
for a masterpiece
People were dropping like flies
The crew's on Librium
and I was on brandy
Struggling hard to get through
And the days and the nights were alive
With the hatred directed at you
Don't let the b*stards come near you
They just want to prove you're sane
To eat up your magic and change you
So, I'll help keep
the b*stards away...
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Teeth 'N' Smiles (2026)
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