Control Page #2

we have The Clash, live in the studio.

We've just been on telly, lads.

So is Tony Wilson a fan,

then, or what?

That was bollocks.

He didn't even say if he liked it

or anything.

- 'Course he liked it.

- Well, how do you know?

He waved it

in front of camera like that.

Forget the record.

He's got to put us on.

Hiya.

There he is.

Um, just orange juice, please.

Go on, tell him.

OK, how are you?

You're gonna go out there,

it's all gonna be fine.

You're not up there having a wank, OK?

Think.

You're a twat, you are.

You're a bastard.

Am I? Why is that?

Because you haven't

put us on television.

Well, then, you'll be the next band

I'll put on, darling.

F***in' right we're going on

before your band, twat!

Your band ain't even

a real f***in' band.

- F*** off.

- Hooky'll do your head in.

F*** off!

That was superb, that, lads.

It really was.

I've not seen a reaction like that

since George Best got kicked out

for blasting a bouncer.

I know how you can be better...

like that.

- Go on, then.

- Simple. You employ me.

You play, I manage.

We all get stinkin' rich and go buy

f***in' great big houses in Cheshire.

- Job's a good 'un.

- And who are you?

Rob Gretton. I already manage

a couple of bands.

But they couldn't sniff the sweat

round your bollocks.

You lot are somethin' else.

I hold my hands up.

I am a believer in Joy Division.

F***in' hallelujah.

I'm also resident DJ here,

which means I know anyone of any

music biz use anywhere in this city.

I'll have you lot signed within

the month. In fact, I guarantee it.

We've already got a manager,

haven't we, lads?

- Who's that, then?

- F***in' me.

- What's your name, mate?

- Terry.

- Terry what?

- Terry Mason.

Terry Mason. Tez.

You mind if I call you Tez?

Tez, you know jack sh*t about this

business. Wanna know how I know?

'Cause I haven't heard of you.

I bet you haven't even got

a f***in' telephone, have you?

Didn't think so. How will you book gigs

and cut deals without a phone,

you daft c*nt?

No offence. I call everyone that.

Look, I've got to pack up my gig.

Ring me.

Rob's Records, Rob speaking.

All right, Ian. Yeah, good, yeah.

Well, that's f***in' brilliant, Ian.

Well, I'll speak to you later, then.

Fine, I understand.

But you've got to sign with Factory.

This isn't an issue.

We're a fresh and exciting label,

you're a fresh and exciting band.

And, most importantly, we both fly

the flag for the Republic of Manchester.

- Don't give a f*** about that.

- I'm a royalist.

- And I suppose they're Nazis as well.

- We're not Nazis.

- What about the money?

- It's 50l50 on the profits.

You own all the publishing rights

and can walk away at any time.

- You serious?

- Rob...

I don't f*** about with talent

I want to work with.

I'll even sign the contracts in my

own blood if it'll make you happy.

We'll speak later, then.

Now remember, we are live,

so no swearing or they will cut you off.

- What about "arse"?

- What?

- Is "arse" a swear word?

- "Arse", yes. It's a swear word.

- No, it's not.

- Bernard,

out there I know

"arse" isn't a swear word.

Here, in TV land,

"arse" is most definitely a swear word.

Trust me, I know

all about swearing and TV.

I'm a master of knowing

when I can and when I can't.

What about "big dog's cock"?

Can you say that?

No.

Seeing as how this is

the first television programme

which brought you the

first appearances from everyone

from The Beatles to the Buzzcocks,

we like to think we bring you

the most new and interesting sounds

in the North-West.

They're called Joy Division,

a Manchester band

except for the guitarist who comes from

Salford. A very important distinction.

This is called Transmission.

I can't believe you did it.

Must have lost about half a pint.

Shows he's serious, though.

- How you feelin', Tony?

- Mmm.

I've felt better.

Hold on. You spelled Morriss wrong.

It's supposed to be double S.

Tony, you're gonna have to add

another S to this, kid.

Do I have to?

It's not very professional to spell

the drummer's name wrong, is it?

Job's a good 'un. Thanks, Tony.

So...

...I can officially announce

to the press

Joy Division have signed with Factory?

Can you f***? I'll give you a ring

and arrange a proper meeting Monday.

Bit of a drama queen, isn't he?

Ian...

...please come to bed.

Right, Geoff, well,

there's your reference.

Thank you.

- That's fine.

- Well, good luck with it.

Thank you very much.

We are gonna be late, you know.

All right?

- What's up?

- Bloody dying with the flu.

He's all right,

just a bit of a sniffle.

He's f***in' scared of playing

London for the first time.

Chocks away.

Well, that was sh*t.

First gig in London,

there's nobody there.

And now I'm freezing.

I told you it's broke.

Well, you're probably just too thick

to work it properly.

It's a heater, Ian.

You turn it on and it heats up.

And that one doesn't, 'cause it's broke.

Give us a go on your sleeping bag.

- I'm dying here.

- Ten minutes. I'll give you it back.

- No.

- Don't be so spoilt.

- I'm not. I'm dying!

- You've got a little cold

and that's it, babyface!

- Hey!

- F*** off!

- Pack it in, the pair of you.

- Ten minutes, I'll give it back!

I'm gonna crash the bloody car.

- Ian, you f***in' menk!

- Ian, calm it, mate!

F***in' hell.

Pull over. Steve, pull over.

Hooky, quick, quick, give us a hand.

Yeah, I've got his knees.

F***in' hell.

Ian, what's up with you, mate?

F***, I thought he was just

trying to warm himself up.

This isn't right, this, Rob.

- What's the story, then?

- He's had some kind of fit.

Oh, right. They're clever,

these doctors, aren't they?

- What kind?

- Epilepsy. They're not sure.

I thought epilepsy

was only for head-the-balls.

- What?

- Head-the-balls. Spaccas.

Nice, Hooky, nice.

- So is he gonna be all right?

- He's not said a lot.

Well, if he were chatty we'd be worried.

We'll try you on...

carbamazepine...

...phenytoin,

tiagabine and oxcarbazipine,

to be taken with the, uh, phenobarbital

that they gave you at the hospital.

In the meantime you'll be

on the waiting list to see

a neurologist specialist

at Macclesfield General.

You should also be getting

plenty of early nights

and steering away from alcohol.

It's a matter of trial and error

until the right drug or

combination of drugs is found.

Some might work.

And... are there any side effects?

Carbamazepine's side effects

include skin rash,

double vision, drowsiness, dizziness,

gastric disturbances...

That means farting.

Phenytoin's side effects

include drowsiness,

acne, overgrowth of the gums,

nausea, vomiting, mental confusion,

mental slowing. That's it.

Ian, you're

gonna be late for work.

Ian?

Ian.

Uh, I'm sorry, Earnest.

I must have drifted off.

- You all right?

- Mmm.

It's these tablets.

Yeah, well, them and

the late night concerts, eh?

Listen, um...

I'm not sure you can do

both jobs, Ian,

so just have a little think

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