Kill Your Friends Page #8

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- Who's this guy?

- Steven!

F***ing prick!

Who the f*** do you think you are?

Who hired this guy?

How dare you!

Misogynist pig.

Jesus. You f***ing bum.

Please leave a message after the tone.

Hey, loser. Where the f*** are you?

You've been back three days.

I'd get in here before your old

mucker Parker Hall has a fit.

Ross has been trying

to get hold of you, by the way.

Call him back. Call me.

I'm looking at the karma bank

and it's bad.

It's f***ing bad.

It's like looking at one of

my own bank statements.

The tumbling zeroes.

Overdrawn.

Debit, debit, debit.

Maybe the course can be changed,

the karma bank replenished.

Maybe if I helped old ladies across

the road every day until the end of time.

Or if I joined the VSO,

went to Africa or somewhere

and helped swollen-bellied kids build dams.

Volunteered to drive the buses

that take mongoloids to the seaside.

Served gruel to skeletal pensioners

in London soup kitchens.

Or moved to the country and had kids,

ate oatmeal, went running, read books,

tried to raise them to be

so that they don't...

...they won't...

Well?

Are you gonna let me in?

- I had some people over.

- Jesus f***ing Christ.

- What are you doing here?

- You've gone AWOL.

Rebecca's been covering for you,

but people are starting to talk.

Look, we haven't been working together long...

Listen, mate, listen,

let's get this straight.

We're not working together.

You work for me.

Right?

And if you wanna carry on working for me,

you need to get your sh*t together.

Then... then, please, get off your nut at dinner,

take the piss out of whoever you want,

but, I'm telling you,

I'm telling you, Steven,

you're this f***ing close to getting canned.

You're a smart guy, Steven.

The label needs someone like you,

because you're sharp.

Ambitious.

But you have got lost.

We're all under pressure.

You throw enough sh*t at the wall,

then something'll stick,

but where's the talent in that?

You might as well line a bunch

of chancers up on the stage,

let the public decide

who's gonna be the next number one.

But that's not the job.

I mean, John Hammond.

Ahmet Ertegun. Chris Blackwell.

Outside the music industry,

no one's even heard of those guys,

but look at what they gave us.

Ray Charles,

Dylan, Led Zeppelin,

Bob Marley, Springsteen.

That's the kind of music you measure

across lives, across generations.

That's why we got into this business.

What was the first record you ever bought?

Don't know. I can't...

Well, mine was The Cutter.

Echo and the Bunnymen.

Winter, 1983.

Well, I mean, that's what I tell the bands.

It was actually...

It was Rio by Duran Duran.

That's between you and me.

It was Blue Monday.

- New Order. 12 inch vinyl.

- There it is.

Please leave a message after the tone.

Steve?

Steve, you there, man?

Mate, I need to talk to you about the Songbirds.

F***ing hell.

If you're there, pick up the phone!

Ross.

...from London, the Big Smoke,

bringing it to the north!

Some doable beasts up north.

What, are you gonna tell them

you're a music industry lawyer from London?

You might as well say you're a f***ing astronaut.

I'm a f***ing astronaut.

This is it. Come on!

Here we go.

They're doing the dance.

It's got its own f***ing dance.

It's not just here.

It's like this all over the country, Steven.

Haven't seen anything like it

since f***ing Whigfield.

I got blindsided, didn't I?

Side-tracked by detail and nonsense.

I lost sight of the big picture.

Only one thing matters in this racket:

big hit records, and plenty of them.

Sort that out and

you can do what you f***ing like.

Right, OK, Songbirds.

Now, Pandora's on the phone

to Radio 1 about the playlist,

but as of this week,

the video's one of the most requested on The Box.

MTV have it on heavy rotation.

We're starting to get

a lot of interest from the tabloids.

Congratulations, Steven.

We knew this one had a shot, eh?

Result, mate. Well done.

Cheers.

So that's why he didn't fire me.

We'd best get on with the album.

He knew the track had landed.

Success is a gangbang,

lotions, lubricants, c*cks all over the shop.

Failure is a lonely rapist hiding

in the bushes.

They're all going to pay.

Everyone is going to f***ing pay.

How far...

How far are you willing to go?

You'll be happy, mate.

You'll be very f***ing happy.

So, any progress?

Who, me? I was gonna ask you that.

I have got some news, actually.

I've found a publisher

who wants to sign you as a songwriter.

You see, that's the key in this game, Alan.

Contacts. Loyalty.

Favours banked and reciprocated.

You know what I mean?

It's exactly the same in my game.

Cheers.

In every difficult, worthwhile endeavour,

there will come a point when the easiest

course of action is to abandon forward motion,

to allow inertia to take over

and return to the status quo.

- All right?

- Yeah.

I was just looking for a demo

we were talking about.

Tony left me some tickets.

Did he now?

Anything I should know about?

No, it's just some band.

He didn't think they'd be your cup of tea,

so he thought I should check them out.

Here you go.

Don't wanna be late.

See you in the morning.

It is the brave and great man

who upon recognising this point resists inertia

and smashes on through to the far side,

no matter the cost.

I call this juncture

'the critical moment of will'.

No sh*t the sluts can't sing, Danny.

Just tell them it'll have

to be a mimed PA or something.

The girls aren't gonna be happy

about this, Steven.

They're kicking off.

We already changed the choreographer

Just trust me on this, OK?

There you are.

What's going on?

- Strap yourself in.

- For f***'s sake.

The police arrived about an hour ago.

No one's been allowed to go upstairs.

We only know

'cause Jeannie came down and told us.

For f***'s sake's, mate, what is it?

Parker Hall's been arrested.

They found images.

- On his hard drive.

- Images?

Kids.

I mean literally, you know, like babies and stuff.

I swear to God, Steven,

he's a f***ing paedophile.

How far...

How far are you willing to go?

He's going on holiday on the 15th.

I'll tell him then.

There's no sense having him moping around.

- I don't want his car.

- What's wrong with Darren's car?

New car. BMW Compact at least.

You're hardcore, Rebecca.

Well, how else is a girl

gonna get on in this business?

Sit there and do my nails while the bands

I tip you off about become

the hottest f***ing deals in town?

Cometh the hour, cometh the girl?

Something like that, yeah.

How's it going with your cute policeman?

I'm getting him a publishing deal

would you believe?

Really?

Who on earth is signing his publishing?

- Me.

- Did you listen to his demo?

- Of course not.

- I did.

And?

C*nt.

Anyway, I think it'll be fine, although...

I might need a little help in that direction.

Don't push your luck.

It's in your interest too.

My interest, no less?

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