England Is Mine Page #2

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Your voice is sort of funny. You're

not, like, posh. Are you from Bolton?

Hello.

May I see Steven?

Who is it?

There is a girl at the door to see Dierdre.

Eh, was he expecting you?

Linder. No, he's not expecting me.

Might as well go on up, love.

You'll have to bang on the door.

Hold on.

What are you doing here?

Was that you?

Mmm, no...

I thought you said we were meeting in town.

Christ.

It's like a museum in here.

You're gonna put the kettle on then?

We don't wanna be late though.

Nobody watches the support bands.

I do.

Milk and two sugar, Steven.

Just, just, just...

Please don't touch anything.

I won't.

Right.

Do you think you can

hand some of these out?

I don't think that's your target audience.

I told you.

Think big, Shakespeare.

Think you've got an admirer.

Oh, God.

You know him?

I think he plays guitar.

He certainly knows you.

Just stop staring at him.

Excuse me, mate. Have we met before?

You're not in a band or anything?

No, he's not yet. You?

Well, trying to get something together.

- I'm Billy,

- Linder.

This is mute here is Steven.

Got a light?

This is my mate, Johnny.

Are you in his band?

Nah, I can't sing.

Well, here we go.

- Maybe see you in there.

- Maybe.

What?

Steven, what are you waiting for?

Just do something, take a chance.

Even cavemen wrote their name on a wall.

How's the world going

to remember you? Write.

Sing. Just don't moan about it when

it's someone else's name they remember.

I love that record.

He writes some great lyrics, Strummer.

What do you like about them?

Strummer's lyrics, I'm interested to know.

Don't you find him rather schematic

in his self-flagellating world view?

White Riot's good song.

When you're ready, mate.

I'll make us a bread.

Stick the Clash on if you want.

It's not all of whatever you said.

My mom loves this sort of stuff.

Mine too.

You're late.

Again.

Anything you'd like to say?

Not really. No.

I don't know what you think you're doing,

but you're coasting.

You can't waltz in here

any time that suits,

pick up your pay check

and f*** off at 5:00!

It's not the way it works.

Why can't you be more like everyone else?

Right.

I want those files shifted.

And don't make me repeat any of this again.

Which files?

What?

You're not going to jump, are you?

- No, no...

- What's this?

- It's nothing.

- Doesn't look like nothing.

I'm sick of being an undiscovered genius.

Please just give it back.

What are these, poems?

No, they're not.

It is becoming more

apparent now as I get older

that everyone is an imbecile except me.

Oh, my God.

Christine...

Wait till I tell everyone.

Christine.

Under one condition.

What, can this wait?

You promised.

Yes, but...

I have absolutely nothing

to do with this creature.

Do you promise not to

think any worse of me?

- Uh, no. Hiya!

- Hiya.

Steven.

Oh, Christine, um...

Linder, this is Christine.

Christine is an esteemed cohort in

the business of petty and dignity.

Tonight, I'll see you as well?

Why not?

Looking out for you...

I wouldn't have him any other way.

What's wrong with her tits?

It's from my exhibition.

It's art, is it?

Yeah.

I'm not sure I understand it.

Well, maybe you could come along.

And Steven could explain it to you.

You know, he writes poetry.

She doesn't understand that either.

Cheeky twat.

I think I'll leave you two to...

No. You don't have to.

Come on, what do you feel like eating?

I don't care.

As long as it's poisonous.

You c*nt!

Dear lord, what happened to you?

Think I'm ready for the electric shock.

All right. One minute.

Ready?

What do you think that means?

Whatever you want it to mean.

What does that mean?

What I just said.

Come and have a look at this!

I found a picture of a cock.

As you can see, these

are extraordinary works.

Our students are the future of

Manchester's thrilling artistic scene.

But, as every artist knows,

it's hard to resit the pull of the capitol.

And, we're delighted to announce,

That Linder's exhibition

will travel to London.

Thank you.

I need a drink.

Ooh, are we getting pissed?

I'm really very happy for you.

You deserve it.

You don't look it.

Will you be gone long?

As long as it takes.

Billy!

Steve.

Sorry, mate. Didn't

mean to crash the party.

Your mom said you'd be here, so...

F*** me, I need to stop smoking.

Billy, why are you here?

What would you say, if I told

you we were joining a band,

and we got ourselves a gig?

I'd say, Billy, get off the drugs.

Then call me Bob f***ing Marley.

I know this band, The Nosebleeds,

they suddenly find

themselves shy of a singer,

a guitarist, and some decent tunes.

So I said we'd do it.

It's brilliant.

It's a double celebration,

I'll get us some more drinks.

You don't look too happy about it.

Why is everybody concerned

with my happiness?

- Cheers.

- Cheers.

Hey!

What are we celebrating?

She's adorable.

In a bovine kind of way.

I've never been to a gallery before.

Did you just see what they were wearing?

If only we could make an effort.

You know, I just can't see

the point of university.

Do you know how much I would love a job?

- You have a job.

- What, that?

No.

No, I'm only giving it another few months.

I want a career change.

You know, our Tracy's gonna

get us a job in fashion.

Do you think I'd be good at that?

I do.

Some of the girls tonight were

dressed like blokes, did you see that?

Your girlfriend dresses well.

She's not my girlfriend.

Piss off.

You're like two peas in a f***ing pod.

She's got a great rack

though, I'll give her that.

Oh, God.

It's getting cold, isn't it?

No.

So when's this gig then?

You know we're all gonna

come to that, don't you?

Please don't.

Look, is it much further?

No.

It's just up here.

Well, good night, Christine.

You got to walk me to the front door

otherwise you're not a gentleman.

So...

Do you want to come in then?

I don't think so.

Oh, come on.

Mr. Hard to Get.

Oi, Steve-o!

Right, here we go.

Are you happy?

I think so, yes.

Should I be?

You owned the room, Shakespeare.

You were the room.

What's this?

The big time.

Some London manager,

talked about tours and recording,

I can't f***ing believe it, man.

One f***ing gig.

- See you later, Steve-o!

- Right.

Come on, boys.

Remember the date, and smile.

You too, Steven.

I said you'd be back in on Monday.

Yes but did you have to say I had diarrhea?

I've run out of excuses.

So...

Tell me all about it.

I've never experienced

anything like it before.

And now I know how you must

feel when you do your knitting.

You skivvying off again.

I've got far more important

things to consider.

Like what?

Tell her about your gig.

It went really well.

Great.

So can I take today off

'cause I don't like Thursdays?

It's not like I want to spend

my life stocking shelves.

Well, I hate to break

it to you, Jacqueline,

the way things are looking,

it looks like there might be one

less worker bee in the Morrissey hive.

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