Kill Your Friends Page #2

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486,000 in the hole on this record.

It's two years since the debut album

and quite frankly...

Well, hang on, Derek.

It's not like nothing's been happening.

We're doing some stuff to maintain awareness.

Those new T-shirts David

had made look fantastic.

T-shirts?

What f***ing T-shirts?

Oh, yeah, I mean, well, you know...

You're making T-shirts for an artist

who doesn't have an album out

and is half a million quid unrecouped?

- Are you out of your f***ing mind?

- Yeah, but, Derek, I just thought...

I don't give a f*** what you thought!

We're in the sh*t. We need some hits.

If we don't have a single soon,

I'm pulling the f***ing plug.

- Do you understand?

- Yeah, but I...

Do you f***ing understand?

- Yeah. Yes, Derek, yeah.

- OK.

Moving on.

Rob.

Sound Collective.

For God's sake.

Well played.

Derek seems even

more tightly wrapped than usual.

We need some hits.

The release schedule's a wasteland.

Well, if Schneider got fired...

I'm just saying.

Then either Derek goes out of house

for a new head of A&R or it's you.

Or it's laughing boy there.

- Waters?

- Pros:
he's a couple of years older than you.

More experience making albums.

The rank and file think he's a nice bloke.

Cons:
he's a lazy, brain-dead cocaine

addict with the attention span of a f***ing gnat

who hasn't had a hit record in donkey's.

- So he could get the job.

- Correctos.

Signing a nice big hit record

wouldn't hurt your cause.

Thanks for that blinding insight, James.

What is the meaning of life, young Stelfox?

To drive your enemies before you

and hear the lamentations of their women.

Good boy.

See you in Cannes.

I tried to imagine Roger as my boss,

Roger who tried to sign Menswear,

who thought Guy Stevens was living and well,

whose idea of a perfectly normal night out

involves waking up covered in someone else's piss,

but a crimson mist keeps closing in,

a skull charge of blood

keeps dimming my vision.

Midem.

Back in the 1960s,

a couple of Frog bum boys decided

to have a little music industry convention

in the South of France.

30 years later every January

10,000 A&R guys descend upon Cannesfor

a free-loading orgy of utter f***ing nonsense.

- Oi, oi!

- Danny.

Danny Rent, two-bob manager.

- Bollocks!

- Andy Restbourne, Sony.

Having it large, mate.

Some c*nt I did bugle with once.

Over here, son. Over here.

Incoming!

Anthony Parker Hall.

Three Brit nominations for that slag?

You having a f***ing laugh?

Who's this?

This is Darren, new scout.

Good luck, mate.

What you got going on over here, then?

Meeting with the Germans tonight

at the Martinez.

- Probably see you out, yeah?

- Yeah, later.

Clown.

I was looking for some action

Hey, Rudi.

Steven!

How's it going, man?

- When'd you get in?

- Just this morning, man.

I had Gunther fly ahead

to take care of stuff, you know.

You know me, time is money, bro.

Hardcore!

- Yeah.

- Hardcore!

- Hey, Steven. How are you?

- I'm very good.

This is Darren, new scout.

- What's up, Darren? How you doing?

- Yeah, good.

Listen, do you want me to make you happy?

- Should I make you happy?

- Very.

- I'm gonna make you happy right now.

- Thank you, Rudi. Crack on.

Listen to this sh*t, man.

Listen to that sh*t, man.

Come on, hit it.

Hold on, hold on. B*tches, come here.

Listen. Come here.

- Want some?

- Yeah, I'll have a glass.

Shut the f*** up!

One, two, three, four. Hit it.

Yeah, baby!

Who told you? Who told you?

- Who told you, Steven?

- Yeah.

I told you, man. I told you!

Yes, yes, Rudi. It's...

Biggest f***ing hit we've had

so far in Germany, man. Biggest hit.

- Really?

- Yeah.

- Who's the singer?

- F*** the singer.

What are you talking about, the singer?

Who cares about the f***ing singer?

It's just a girl. She was in the studio.

She's like... What do you call a...

it's a... A moose.

- Moose.

- F***ing moose!

But don't worry.

We'll find someone to front it.

It's catchy, Rudi, it's just...

- It's the lyrics, right?

- Yeah, exactly, Rudi.

Why are you so British, so square, man?

What's wrong?

We did a radio edit of the whole thing...

...and we changed it and the chorus now is like..

What does she say? She says like...

Why don't you slap me on the ass?

Why don't you slap me on the ass?

- And it works, man.

- That's much better.

Listen, what do you think

I'm offering it to you.

- First hand for the UK.

- Yeah.

And all I need is 30,000 in advance

- and...

- 15.

15 points.

So what do you reckon?

What do I reckon?

I reckon that tune is the biggest

insult to humanity

since a room full of Nazis chuckled

over the blueprints for Auschwitz.

It's utter garbage.

But this is exactly what 99% of

the great British public enjoy,

the f***ing animals.

Well, that crazed paedo has as good a track

record as anyone for this kind of crap,

and stranger things have happened, mate.

Is that a yes, then?

What, a 30K advance,

the same again for a video,

I'd have to do some remixes,

artwork, advertising.

I mean, it'll cost us something like a hundred

grand to try and have a hit with that piece of sh*t.

This is what's involved

every time you say yes, Darren.

Signing records can literally cost

you your f***ing job.

So we say no?

Maybe.

Christ, look, Virgin.

88.9% share of the singles market.

F***ing Spice Girls.

Rage.

How you doing? Good to see you.

- Fisher.

- How you doing? You all right?

- Hi.

- Hi.

So, Cannes, eh?

Great stuff.

- Rage, how's tricks?

- Yeah, boys.

We ain't gonna do this tour.

- What? But you...

- We're finishing the record.

I ain't dismantling the studio

to start some f***ing rehearsals.

Well, let's hire the stuff for the tour.

Look, do you believe in this guy long term?

Yes.

Of course.

Then this ain't the only tour

we're gonna do, then, is it?

It's an investment.

How much?

- 60 grand.

- Jesus.

The tour support budget's high enough as it is.

I don't think we can justify that sort of...

Well, I guess we're pulling out of the tour, then.

- 30 grand.

- 50.

40, recuperable.

Fair enough.

This pair of sex offenders

have just raped us for 40 grand.

At some point we'll see a Fantasy Island invoice

with bogus receipts stapled to it

for money they never spent

on gear they do not own.

So, how's the record sounding?

Schneider, mate,

it's gonna blow your tits off.

We'll have a playback soon.

It's f***ing out there, man.

Experimental as f***.

Experimental?

Experimental?

I think it's a smart way to go.

Listen, David, we did well with the debut,

over 100,000.

The obvious move will be to start chasing a hit,

doing a vocal collaboration with

f***ing Jarvis Cocker or whoever,

but it could alienate his fan base,

all the drum and bass kids.

If you make a really uncompromising

original record,

you'll keep all those people,

get great press and build it organically.

F*** me. Experimental, no less?

Schneider's face.

And Rage was gakked off his f***ing tits.

I take it you counselled against

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