Killing Bono Page #3

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He doesn't mind if I deal a bit of gear

on the side, you know?

So, if you want anything.

Coke, acid, weed, I'm your man.

No, you're all right, Plugger, but...

It's good to see you've

done well for yourself.

And those tossers at Mount Temple

said I'd never amount to shite.

What about Bono and the lads, yeah?

- Away to the big time.

- Yeah.

We should have stuck with them,

we'd be getting a ride every night.

Hey.

Hasn't your man, Machin,

got a venue or two of his own?

No, Neil.

He'll cut off our balls.

Could you put in

a word for us, Plugger?

You know, maybe get us a gig

for old time's sake?

Sure.

Leave it with me, lads.

I know just the place.

I don't like this. I've never been

this far out of Dublin before.

# Sleep keeps playing tricks on me

# Dragging out the day

while I'm waiting for the night

# Darkness got a fix on me

# Playing with the silence

I'm trying to keep it quiet

# Shake your dreams from your hair

# When the break up comes

you're going to be nowhere

# And I'll meet you there

# When the circle's complete

I'll take you walking in my sleep

# In my sleep

- # I'm walking in my sleep

- # Walking in my sleep

- # I'm walking in my sleep

- # Walking in my sleep

# Wake up #

Ow!

- Thank you.

- Thanks very much.

What a crowd.

You guys were great.

God almighty. Oh.

How are you?

Can I have a whiskey, please?

- Whiskey. Thanks.

- Ah!

Man, what a buzz.

That was great.

That was shite.

We died on our arses up there.

Maybe you would have noticed if you

weren't having some kind of fit.

- What was that?

- My moves.

Plus I got us our first headline gig.

Yeah, in an illegal titty bar,

in the arse end of nowhere,

run by a known killer.

This is Mr. Machin, lads.

What'd you think, Mr. Machin?

Godless, mindless and tuneless.

Still, you had the girls going.

I'm surprised you could hear anything

at all. The sound is shite in here.

You really want to get yourself a better

system if you want decent bands to play.

Yeah, well, when I find a decent band,

maybe I will.

Neil, we'll go. Shall we?

Come upstairs if you want your cut.

Just the cocky f***er.

The skinny one with the stupid haircut

can piss off.

He means you, Ivan.

Stay here.

- Hi.

- How's it heading? How're you going?

Fine.

You don't take your baths in here,

do you?

No. That's for people who annoy me.

You know, not many people talk to me

like you did back there.

There's always been that connection,

between gangsters and celebrities.

Oh, you're a gangster, are you?

'Cause you're sure not

a f***ing celebrity.

It's only a matter of time.

I don't suppose you know anyone

looking to invest in

an incredible new band?

Why, do you know

an incredible new band?

Come on, you saw us play.

We just had the wrong crowd tonight.

But with the right crowd

and the right backer we can...

You know, when my girls

go on their break,

they usually duck out the back

for a fag and a go at the crossword.

Tonight, they were clocking you.

- Tea, Plug.

- Well, there you go.

There's money to be made in music.

Money that doesn't involve

someone getting buried.

I mean, look at U2.

I bet you wish you'd got in there before

the lawyers had them all sewn up,

and we're gonna be bigger than them.

Yeah, you're better looking than Bono.

I'll give you that.

Thanks.

But the... the question is,

do you want in?

- Five grand.

- Ten would be more realistic.

I could do ten.

My ten buys me twenty-five per cent.

You don't get twenty-five per cent

of me that easy.

Is this my negotiating face?

OK, ten.

And a ticket to London.

I'll give you two tickets. One for you

and one for the skinny f***er.

And remember.

If you f*** with me...

...I will kill you.

OK, everyone your attention, please.

Wake up!

I've an important announcement

to make.

I am quitting.

I'm off to London

to become world famous.

Oh.

Oh, come on now.

Don't cry.

She's not crying over you,

you great f***ing eejit.

What?

What's happened?

Who's done this?

Some sad... loner psycho.

That's how

you become famous fast, hmm?

Pull a trigger.

Remember listening to dad's

scratchy old copy of Abbey Road?

Yeah.

- First songs you ever learnt to play.

- Yeah.

It just makes you wanna pack it all in.

No. It makes you realise

how short life is.

I'm sick of waiting around

for sh*t to happen. I just...

It won't unless we make it.

How?

We get out.

We move to London.

What?

Where did all this come from, Neil?

Give me one good reason why not?

Because we're broke.

I've enough to cover us until we're

in London, signed and earning.

I filed a lot of articles

with Hot Press.

OK, well. I've got a girlfriend.

Well, they do have girls in London.

- Apparently.

- OK, look.

What about Bono's offer of a deal?

Are you just gonna

walk away from that?

If Bono thinks we're great,

we don't need him.

Oh, that makes loads of sense, Neil.

We go straight to the source.

To the majors. Atlantic. Columbia.

The McCormick brothers together.

Yeah, just... just f***ing

hang on here a moment.

Look, you're asking me to

rip all this up and start again

just 'cause you say so,

when, you know, we're doing OK here.

- OK? OK, shite.

- Yeah.

There's one for the tombstone,

isn't there?

"Here lies Ivan, he was OK".

If you stay here, you'll spend the

rest of your life wondering what if?

And then, you will always be

a ninety-nine per center.

What?

What the f*** is that?

You just made that up.

No.

The bands who never make it.

The rock and roll graveyard.

Either you break on through

or you add your bones to the pile.

Yes, I am asking you to rip it all up

and start again.

Trust me, kid.

The world doesn't know it yet...

...but the next big thing

is lurking in an Irish backwater.

- Hey, here it is. Come on.

- OK, OK.

- Here.

- Hey, how's the hair?

Yeah. Yeah, cool.

# But some kind of loving

lasts forever

- # Some kind of loving

- # Turns to some kind of hatred

- # Some kind of loving

- # It gets you sooner or later

- # Some kind of loving

- # Locks your heart behind a brick wall

- # Some kind of loving #

- # Is no kind of love at all #

See, pop songs are usually about

fantasising about having sex

with hot women,

actually having sex with hot women,

or reminiscing about having sex

with hot women.

This one appears to be about rape.

On one level, yes.

But on another,

it's about existential angst.

Mmm. Right, well, either way

that's a pretty hard sell

for Top of the Pops, but I'm sure

we can sort that out later.

So, you do want to sign us, then?

Do you?

Well, that depends.

See, the music industry

is a very fickle business.

It's like a harem filled

with beautiful people

all f***ing each other's brains out.

But outside there are thousands

of ugly, talentless lepers

all clawing their way in,

trying to get a piece of the action.

Which one are you?

Um...

The beautiful people.

Do you want in to the harem?

Yes, please.

Yes, I do. I do.

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