Kill Your Friends Page #9

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You're priceless, Steven.

Not that he'll notice, but this

is the cheapest champagne in the house.

The celebration's fake.

The friends are fake.

The only real thing at the table

is Woodham's stupid smile.

F***. Excuse me a sec, guys.

Oi, Mr Stelfox.

All right, Steven?

Rage, I...

He don't talk so good since the accident.

How are you doing, mate?

- He just wanted to say hello.

- Yeah.

- Come on, let's get you cleaned up.

- Yeah.

- Steven.

- Trellick.

- Did you drop Rage yet?

- Well, yes.

No, I mean,

did you actually terminate his contract?

No, not exactly.

- Good. Don't.

- What?

I said do not drop Rage.

I've got an idea.

I almost feel sorry for him.

He thinks this is all really happening.

The power of dreams.

When it comes to aspiring musicians,

there really is no upper limit

to their level of delusion.

So what's the plan?

Oh, sh*t. F***.

I didn't think an officer of the law

would be into this sort of thing.

More cokeheads in the police than

the bloody music industry, I bet.

Anyway, 30 grand.

I know you said it's not a big advance,

but I hardly make that in a year.

I mean, maybe I'll just quit.

If I was just writing songs all the time,

I bet in six months I'd have enough...

Alan.

Two?

For Rebecca.

Fancy making some drinks, Alan?

F***.

Yeah, OK.

Sh*t.

You reckon that'll do it?

He's a married copper with kids.

I don't think

he'll want this making the rounds.

I'm gonna enjoy us working together.

You know, you really are hardcore, Rebecca.

You're either outside or you're inside.

You do not want to be inside.

I can't f***ing take it.

Look, you'll make bail in a couple more days.

A couple more days?

They think I'm a f***ing paedo.

- Someone's gonna do me.

- Easy. Listen...

I know this is not great timing.

But I need to get you to sign this.

It's just with the potential

publicity surrounding this, we... Derek...

...thought it would be best

if you took a voluntary leave of absence.

You know, let the dust settle.

Listen, you know... you know I had...

I had nothing to do with

that stuff they found, right?

Come on.

Here. I brought you some magazines.

There's a good review of

The Lazies album in there.

Hey, it's the least I could do, mate.

The taste of victory.

Savour the rusty blood of your enemies,

but, remember, the true warrior understands

that war is not a crisis or

an event but a ceaseless state of being.

Power comes from the relentless

pursuit of the unattainable.

Oi, oi.

Listen to this.

'Rage.'

'This harrowing, fractured piece,

is the sound of a man trying

to communicate with an environment

he has been savagely dislocated from.'

- We're shipping gold, mate.

- We might just f***ing recoup.

The drum and bass Stephen Hawking,

the ultimate coffee-table accessory

for today's middle-class spastic.

Rage, the talentless halfwit.

The last turkey in the shop

sprouts some f***ing wings.

Well?

We just got the midweeks.

It would appear that Songbirds

are number one by a country mile.

- Come on!

- Come on!

Would our new head of A&R care

to make a speech?

- Alan.

- What?

Alan.

Alan, help! Alan...

- She just fell.

- Christ!

What kind of f***ing...

She's dead.

Jesus. Jesus!

Sh*t. F***.

F***ing...

Oh, God. What happened?

I don't know, Alan!

She fell off the bed on the bottle.

She's dead!

- F***ing God!

- Through the f***ing neck, didn't it.

I'm calling the police.

I am the f***ing police.

We're out of our minds.

There'll be forensic evidence

that we both, you know...

Christ.

You know what happens to coppers in prison?

So what are we going to do?

There's a level of grief you'll take

from doing your secretary.

The red eyes, the balled Kleenexes,

the substandard work and

the frosty silences in the office.

And there's a level of grief

you definitely don't want.

Like a copper on ketamine dismembering

a corpse in your f***ing en suite.

Still, secretaries come and go.

Bands come and go.

Even executives come and go.

But record companies, we're here forever.

Schneider, Waters,

Parker Hall,

bloody Rebecca suddenly buggering off.

We've had a very difficult year.

But it's a tough business.

You know what they say.

A&R, artiste and repertoire,

the branch of the music industry concerned

with finding and nurturing new talent.

Since the first field hand

crawled out of a Mississippi swamp

and croaked his miserable blues

into a wax cylinder,

we've been here, taking our piece.

The Beatles earned a penny

a record for most of their career.

The f***ing balls on us.

Artiste and repertoire?

Assault and retribution.

Annihilation and robbery.

Armageddon...

...and revenge.

What is the meaning of life, young Stelfox?

- It's to drive your enemies...

- Your enemies before you.

And hear the lamentations of their women.

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