David Brent: Life on the Road Page #8

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"Is Bob Dylan cool, 75?

- "Is Sting cool?"

- No.

- What?

- Sting isn't cool.

Oh...

Check it out. Listen.

Open your mind and listen.

You'll enjoy it.

Have a good one.

Cheers, man.

F***ing hell. How old is he? About 12?

Chill out, dude. This is rock 'n' roll.

And Sting is cool.

Ooh!

Yeah.

We are Foregone Conclusion.

Okay, we got a little treat now.

We are gonna get a little bit funky.

Um, I say a little bit,

but probably too funky for some.

This one is called Ain't No Trouble.

It's through the eyes of an old Rasta.

- Don't do the voice.

- You gotta do the voice.

- No, you don't.

- You do.

So it's sort of like he's saying,

"Oh, whatever happens to me,

"as long as I've got me woman, you know,

you can do what you like, Lord."

So, it's sort of like a message.

Called Ain't No Trouble.

I mean, you think it's painful to watch.

Yeah, I have to stand on the stage

next to him while he's doing it.

It's what the dreads in UB40

have been going through for 30 years.

# I can work all day

Just to earn a dollar

# I can break my bones

You never hear me holler

# I can lose my home

I'm kicked out in the street

# If my baby's by my side

Then life is sweet #

Maybe 'cause I'm there,

he wants to play up to it

or he wants to be accepted.

But I think people would accept him

if he just was himself.

# I could lose my job

# But it would be fine

# 'Cause I could still find

The odd snob to rob

# I could get chucked out

# Of my mum's house

But it could be fun

# Sleeping rough

When the sun's out

# I could lose my voice

# But I'd manage to still do

# Some sick rhyme damage

With sign language

# You can take what's mine

# Almost anything

X-Box, wedding ring, fish tank, terrapin

# Poke me in the eyeball, pull out a gun

Say something spiteful about my mum

# Tease my dog

So he doesn't even know it

# By going to throw a bone

But just pretending to throw it

# Make death threats, yeah

Then I have to guess where

# Then when I get there

Pull out my chest hair

# Head-butt me in the nuts if you want

# 'Cause ain't no trouble

Like losing the one you love

- # Ain't no trouble like trouble

- # Yeah, yeah

- # When you lose the one you love

- # Come on, come on

- # Ain't no trouble like trouble

- # Yeah, yeah

- # When you lose the one you love

- # Come on, come on #

What did you think?

Dreadful. Embarrassing.

I mean, the rap was all right, but...

not with some middle-aged uncle

at a wedding dancing around.

# Then I see this face

And she smiles at me

# If I died right then... #

He's excruciating, uh, on stage and off.

And now we gotta go and have a drink

with him, you know. I mean, it's awkward.

Oh, right. Okay.

Hey.

After show.

- Cheers, David.

- Thanks, man.

- Cheers.

- Cheers. Thank you.

- Cheers.

- Cheers, mate.

Nice.

God.

Twitter. Or texting.

It's all social media, isn't it?

The iPhone, the iPod...

Ten thousand songs

in the palm of your hand, yeah?

Yes, please.

No more lugging round me albums.

Let's play a record. Let's get it out.

God, let's get it out the sleeve.

- I like vinyl.

- I like vinyl.

Yeah, I love the whole thing

of the paraphernalia.

Oh, Arctic Monkeys. Yeah. Stylus.

Oh, I love this one.

- You do like it?

- Yeah.

- Right.

- Yeah.

Especially if it is something

like the Arctic Monkeys or...

Foo Fighters.

About time England won a World Cup, innit?

- Yeah.

- 1966. Sort it out.

There's some fresh blood

coming through the ranks now, though.

Got some good players.

They need to be managed, though.

Sturridge.

Yeah, come and play for us, boy.

Not all this thing,

"You can't have foreign players".

- Well, he was born in England.

- No, I know. But it's like...

You can't have foreign players

in an international team.

- No.

- It's just for clubs.

I know. I'm saying get him in,

get him up front. Let's get some goals.

- Dom? Bob Marley.

- Hmm?

Am I right?

Yeah.

Mmm.

- Same again?

- No, I can't.

- No? See you later.

- Cheers.

- Thanks for the drinks, David.

- Yeah, not a problem, mate.

See you tomorrow. Lightweights.

- Where are you going?

- I just...

- No, we're gonna have another one.

- Really?

We're gonna have a laugh.

- Come on.

- Yeah.

You're the only one who cares,

if I'm being honest.

- Cheers, man.

- Yeah.

- You're my nigga.

- Whoa!

- Hey, David, you can't say that.

- You are.

- You are my real nigga.

- Stop... You don't say that.

- What?

- Listen. You can't say that.

I can say it, maybe. You can't say it.

- Well you call me it, then.

- I'm not gonna...

- Call me a nigga. Please.

- I'm not gonna call you...

- I'm not gonna do that.

- Call me a nigga.

- Just, shh, okay...

- Call me a nigga.

Stop saying that.

- You're... you're my nigga. Okay?

- Yeah.

- All right.

- Cheers.

Great, go to bed. Jesus.

- That's your credit card.

- What?

- That's your credit card.

- It's not working.

It's a credit... It's not...

Cool, dudes.

Battle of the Bands, innit?

A great night.

They do it every month, you know.

Each band gets along as many of their fans

as they can to watch them.

The promoter gets down

some record companies.

And we battle it out.

It's not a competition.

You know, we could all get signed.

Um, but you do go on in order

of how many people you got along.

So the more you get along,

the later you go on,

and a better warmed up crowd you play to.

- Right, you're on first, guys.

- Great.

How many people did we get?

- Doesn't matter.

- Two.

Glad I said it didn't matter

before I found out.

So, proves I'm telling the truth.

- That's so depressing.

- He's joking, ain't you?

No point in playing to the converted

all the time.

Let's get on there

and win over the other bands' fans.

- Come on, chop-chop.

- Yeah. Ah, whoo!

Come on.

Hello. Oh...

We are Foregone Conclusion.

Come through. We're all in this together.

Doesn't matter what band

you've come to see.

Let's see all the bands, yeah?

We're gonna kick off with a song

called Native American.

Um...

Typical Brent,

getting political straight away.

No, it's all about how the white man went

and, sort of, slaughtered them

and enslaved them.

And it's about time

someone said something, so...

Guilty.

Although they are having the last laugh.

So they can do what they like now

in them reservations, can't they?

Gambling, prostitution, probably.

I don't know.

But definitely gambling.

Swings and roundabouts.

I don't think they pay tax, do they?

- Stop talking. Let's just do the song.

- Yeah.

And, uh, you'll also learn why they don't

like being called Red Indians any more.

So, Native American.

I don't think there's

any real racism on David's part.

I just think he just doesn't quite get it,

does he?

Yeah, totally.

# White man's eyes too blind to see

# A gentle race so wild and free

# They called you savages

Called you bad

# But the scalping thing

Was only when you got real mad

# So

# Oh, oh

Native American

# Soar like an eagle

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