England Is Mine Page #3

---

What's this?

Studio time.

Gigs, stardom.

This is in London.

And?

And what is plan B if

that doesn't work out?

My alphabet has only one letter.

What? D for d*ckhead.

Just because the height of your ambition

is aisle five, doesn't mean that I'm

gonna slum it here for the rest of my life.

What are you talking about?

Once they discover my genius,

it's inevitable I'll move.

You've done one gig.

That's enough, you two.

I don't have to listen to this.

Clean up on aisle five.

Clean up on aisle five.

No?

All right.

Here, mate.

We talked last week.

We were f***ed by your

third song, but still.

This a private meeting

or can anybody join in?

Did you know Steve was in a band?

No, no, I didn't, no.

And I don't care. Get back to

your desk and start working.

I sometimes feel like

the subject of a Lowry painting.

I've never wanted to paint anything.

But look at these walls.

Returning to the real world

is like stepping into a cold shower.

Where the dress code is smart...

Where the hell is he now?

And the people less so.

Lazy bastard.

And your ambition

is to start each day

and still exist by the end of it.

At least Lowry had smog.

We've got nothing to choke on.

This is what you call

the records room, is it?

On the f***ing roof!

I was actually...

Yeah, I know exactly what

you're get up to up here.

Writing bollocks about

what f***ing idiots we are!

Well, I'll tell you one thing, Steven.

What goes around, comes around.

What are you writing now?

It's none of your business.

I'll be the judge of that.

Fine.

Fine. You get back to your desk.

I'll deal with this after lunch.

You make a note in your f***ing book.

Morrissey.

Right.

You know why you're here?

I'm not paying you to

write in your notebook.

Or be in a pop band.

I'm paying you to work.

But it's not just that, Steven.

Your attitude stinks.

You're never at your desk at 9:00,

if you're here at all.

And when you are in,

your mind is elsewhere.

I don't owe you a living, Steven.

But,

I'm a fair man.

You know that.

So, I thought,

I would give you one more opportunity

to convince me that

things are going to change.

You can't live two lives.

Work, or music.

What's it gonna be?

Ah, the famous Steve Morrissey.

I'm not gonna miss you.

Liar.

So...

Did you jump, or were you pushed?

Creative differences.

Just when I was going

to shoot you in the head.

I'm sorry to disappoint.

What time is the train?

We've got plenty of time.

Are you worried?

London belongs to me.

As I wandered thro' each charter'd street,

Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,

And mark in every face I meet.

Marks of weakness,

Marks of woe.

I can't remember the rest.

In every cry of every man...

You see, what am I gonna do without you?

Die.

Lonely and depressed.

Give it a rest, will you?

Some of us have still work to go to.

- Hello.

- Hi, Billy.

Steven.

It's...

I dropped off a tape.

- I got it.

- And what do you think?

It's really good, mate.

I was thinking that maybe we should

be the ones that demo for the manager.

- He called me this morning.

- Oh great! Did he...

Did he say when we were going?

Billy?

I'm sorry, Steve.

They just want me to go.

But I don't understand.

They want a new

guitarist for this band.

It's all lined up.

And yeah.

I'm sorry, Steve.

I don't know what to say.

I can't turn it down.

Steve? Are you still there?

Yes, still here.

I can't turn it down, mate.

I know.

Anyway, look, you

remember my mate, Johnny?

Well, he's looking

to start something.

So I mentioned you.

I'll give you his number.

Have you got a pen?

I'll get one.

Mum said you'd forget.

- What?

- Doctor's appointment.

You can't just lock yourself away.

Okay.

You've been in here for six weeks.

- Seven.

- I'm being serious.

- Steven.

- What?

Mum's worried.

When is it?

Twenty minutes.

I don't think these are gonna help.

Tell me what the doctor said.

Did you explain how you were feeling?

Are you hungry?

I'll make you some food.

So what's it like down there then?

Well...

I live in a shoe box, and all

anyone talks about is hammers.

When are you coming?

Soon.

You'd clean up down here, there's

loads of people you could meet.

You should come down.

I should, shouldn't I?

Yes.

Check the train guide.

I will.

If you need, I'll

lend you the money.

So...

Anything new happening up there?

There's a new bag of cement in the cellar.

I was planning my visit...

You know Billy's playing

in Manchester next month?

He always asks about you.

And?

And I told him you're

writing your obituary.

Anyway, he said he'd put

you on the guest list.

Hello? Are you even listening to me?

Not really. No.

Are you all right, Shakespeare?

You sound lost.

Now, I can see where I'm going.

- How are you?

- Thanks for coming.

Right.

How is he? Any change?

I'm running out of ideas.

Well, if it helps,

there's a job going on at the hospital.

I could put in a word.

The most used noun in

the English language is time.

And I'm running out of it.

You win, Christine.

You've won.

Some of us want to dream

and keep on dreaming.

Think of us.

And protect us.

The lion and the lamb

shall lie down together.

Down together we go.

Look at the state here.

I'll take the job.

What?

The hospital job. I...

I need the money, I

want to see Linder, so...

Everything all right?

Is Linder still enjoying London?

You could have probably get

there and back ten times by now.

Steven.

Were you a friend?

Life.

In its humdrum sense is worth

avoiding.

It's the factory for the father,

and the kitchen for mother.

It's arguments at the dinner table.

Missing children on the news.

And through it all, a sense that

things are slowly falling apart.

Is it better to

choose another record

to flip the lid on the pills

and wait for something to happen?

Is it better to turn out the lights,

climb under the covers,

until sleep invites you to a

world you've always wanted.

Is it better than the one

that's in front of us?

I like what you've done to the place.

I really don't know how to carry on, Mum.

I remember when you first heard this.

We couldn't get you down off the table.

Do you remember why I bought you this?

Mmm-hmm.

And the books, and the typewriter.

It's just not me anymore.

Then who are you?

Are you the boy who stood

on the table and sang to me

or are you just like everyone else?

Giving up,

with nothing to say.

I've tried, Mum.

It's not like I haven't tried.

What else am I supposed to do?

The world, it's just not

built for people like me.

Then create your own world, Steven.

You'll get there.

I know you will.

But only when you realize

you have a choice.

Not everyone's so lucky.

You are the only version

of yourself in existence.

There is no replica of you.

You just have to be who you are.

Isn't that worth life?

- Yeah?

- Mmm.

- Okay.

- Okay.

You could have at least

torn the wallpaper down.

Anything else?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes