Killing Bono Page #2

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# Why don't you tell them

# What you are gonna do

# You get so lonely

# Maybe it's better that way

# It ain't you only

# You got something to say

# Do anything you wanna do

# Come on

# Do anything you wanna do #

# And I'm promising nothing

# I'm just living a smile

# I casually arrange it

# I walk tall

Walk in the wild wind

# I live an image of plastic and gold

# Some say maybe tomorrow

# A resurrection, hello

I know, know, know

# Well, I know, know, know

Well, I know, know, know

They're sounding tight, man.

Their drummer can actually drum.

- They're even playing their own stuff.

- Huh?

I said they're playing their own stuff.

Well, we can write our own songs too.

Plus, we'll have something

that they'll never have.

Brotherhood.

Neil and Ivan McCormick.

Well, Ivan and Neil. It's alphabetical

like Lennon and McCartney.

Bollocks.

- I'm older, I'm going first.

- Whoo!

# Oh!

# I need something

# I need someone

# I've got you

# Street mission

# Street mission

# Street mission #

Good night!

You big riot, ya.

Neil McCormick here with home-grown

rock sensations The Hype,

still sweaty from

a blistering live show.

So, boys, tell us. Where do you see

The Hype in say five years time?

Five years?

The Hype'll be history.

- What?

- What?

What?

Why? You boys

were f***ing amazing tonight.

You said that this was what

you wanted to do forever, like.

- Yeah.

- It is.

So we're changing our names

to something good.

Oh?

You're looking at U2.

U2?

U2?

That is so...

...shite!

Thank you, Neil.

I didn't want to say it.

It sounds like a bleeding submarine.

- And we're changing our names.

- What?

Dave wants to be known as The Edge.

What, like, Edge Evans or Dave Edge?

Just The Edge.

The edge of what?

And from now on, he's Bono.

- Bono?

- Bono!

Bono?

Yeah, yeah, it's good, it's good.

I could be... Biro.

- I could be The Hedge.

- Stop taking the piss.

At least I'm not the one jumping

up and down on stage wearing these.

- Would you look at the state of him?

- Hey, hey, hey, hey.

You f***ing poser.

He likes 'em. He likes 'em.

# Dreams are making a mess of me

# They say I'm like a ghost

but they don't understand

# I'm the haunted not the haunting

# I need to get some peace

# I'm walking in my sleep #

If I'm honest, Neil, I don't get

half the stuff you sing about.

Your lyrics are a bit weird, Neil.

Well, next you'll be telling me

that Bob Dylan's weird.

Is Bob Dylan weird, is he?

Or Leonard Cohen?

- Yeah.

- Yeah, very weird.

Ah, nice of you to swing by.

Who needs a lead guitar anyway?

Check this out.

- What the f***?

- Look at it.

- It's really real.

- Just watch the corners.

It's really happening for the boys.

- Oh, my God.

- Take it easy with it.

Yeah, but Rolling Stone magazine

reckons it's pretty mediocre.

Oh, man. This could have been

my first album.

In your dreams, man.

No, I was nearly in the band.

No, you weren't.

You stood in Larry's kitchen once.

That's his great claim to fame.

Well, at least I auditioned for them,

Neil. That's more than you ever did.

Where'd you get this anyway?

- Oh, I bumped into Bono.

- What?

Down at The Vinyl Frontier.

- I played him our demo.

- Great.

So now he'll pinch all my lyrics

for his next album, will he?

He reckons he can get us signed.

- Signed?

- Signed, signed.

- What?

- Yes!

We can get out of

this bleeding garage, boys.

And you wanna follow

in their footsteps?

No. We are not playing

catch up with U2.

Not now. Not ever.

We'll do this our own way.

And we will get our own deal.

Well, hang on. I don't see

that happening here, Neil.

Yeah, well, I can make it happen.

Yeah, when?

Where are you going?

I just told you.

To make it happen.

Jesus.

Jesus, it's the U2 f***ing fanzine

in full effect.

- Do you want a Bono pin-badge?

- Do I bollocks?

Well, would you

look at that, Maureen?

A rare sighting of our

most elusive scribe, hmm?

How's the work allergy?

Hey, Niall, don't come all

proddy work ethic with me.

I'm not the one

pretending to be disabled.

Hey. The insurance pay-out

on this little baby pays your wages.

So where have you been, Lord Byron?

Fannying about penning poetry again?

Actually, I've been in the studio,

yeah? Laying down some new tracks.

Besides, I've already filed

my article for this week.

Yeah, but it was meant for last week.

Lucky you can write,

that's all I can say, hmm?

"In his search for the singular identity

in the landscape of the bland,

Adam Ant has somehow evolved

into a post-punk,

Dick Turpin with a pirate fetish".

I like that.

"Landscape of the bland".

Yeah, well, I thought it preferable

to "a sea of sh*t".

Are you giving it the cover?

No, I think Ireland's hottest band

just pushed it out.

What? Gary's U2 piece?

It's only Gary's U2 piece

'cause you turned it down.

You picky bastard.

Thanks, I am standing right here,

you know?

Yeah, and I didn't want

to give it to a rookie.

- Yeah.

- Well, it's weird, but I...

It's weird,

but I didn't really much fancy

talking to my old school mates about

how brilliantly amazing they are

and how much hot sex they're getting,

you know?

Yeah, there's a little bit more to it

than that.

Yeah, I bet. "U2 are brill.

And hasn't Bono got lovely hair.

And he's dead good at singing

and that".

You're just jealous 'cause no one

writes about your poxy band.

Oh, really?

Ah, Jesus.

Neil, not more f***ing demo tapes.

You've already carpet-bombed

every poor bugger in my address book.

That's not true, actually.

I've only gone up to P.

Look, look.

I know the owner of a place in town,

and I could get you a slot if...

If you cover the Horse Slips gig for me.

Quid pro quo.

No way. Their singer still wants to

murder me after that last piece I wrote.

Where's the venue?

- McGarrety's.

- F*** off!

- F*** off!

- I hope you said yes.

Of course I said yes, it's McGarrety's.

Legends are born in the place.

- When is this?

- Next Saturday.

Hold on. That's the day

the Pope is in town.

- I'm sorry?

- The Pope?

Wears a big popey hat.

Drives a popemobile. He's the Pope.

Who's gonna go and see the Pope?

It's only the Pope.

- It's not like it's anyone good.

- I'm going.

I'm an altar boy.

F*** off!

Eric, who do you wanna be

in ten years time, eh?

Keith Moon? Rocking out

with the biggest band in the world?

Neck deep in girls and booze

and drugs, yeah?

Or a piss-poor,

who sits in at the weekend

and pulls his winky?

Didn't Keith Moon die?

Listen, Eric...

I am asking you to make a choice.

It's me or God.

I can't believe the Pope

f***ed our band.

I never liked him. He has no

appreciation of the live music scene.

And not a single person here.

Bugger me. The McCormick's?

Yous great pair of arse bandits.

What are you doing here, Plugger?

Me boss, Danny Machin,

runs security here.

I keep the eejits in line.

Well, when they show up I do.

What? Danny Machin the criminal?

He prefers enpreteneur.

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