Modern Life Is Rubbish Page #4

looking for good designers at our agency.

Advertising?

Contrary to popular opinion,

the office doesn't actually

smell of sulfur, you know.

Anyway,

it's digital marketing, darling.

I'm sure I can

get you an interview.

I don't know.

Nat, wake up and smell

the economic implosion, okay?

Just think about it. I actually

think you'd quite like it.

- And I think you'd be quite good at it.

- You all right, babe?

Yeah.

- How'd the interview go?

- Just wasn't the right opportunity.

We'll figure it out.

As soon as we're signed, all of our

problems will be over. I promise.

How are we doing

with the logos?

Yeah, uh, just inked out

some options for you.

If you don't like any of them,

then I can just go back and...

No, no, no, no. These are all

well-refrigerated, for real.

But this is the one. Yeah, this is the

one we'll use for the demo cover.

That's a dog's dangly bits,

that is.

So, Natalie,

if you were a brand,

what would you be?

What are you doing home?

Manager

was a jobsworth prick.

Gave me the boot.

It's all good though.

I need to concentrate on the demo,

get these tracks finished, really.

How did your interview go?

They offered me the job.

They did?

That's brilliant!

Are you not happy?

Yeah. Yeah.

Of course I am.

Financial security,

steady paycheck.

What's all this?

I'm reorganizing

our music collection.

Come up with a great new system.

You're gonna love it.

I'll walk you

through it later,

but basically it's separated

by country and genre

and then alphabetized

within the different subcats.

Careful.

Careful.

- I'm being careful. All right?

- Slowly. Slowly.

- Wait! Stop!

- Grab it!

- Leave them.

- What?

It's pointless. I don't even want them.

I just want to go.

Are you crazy?

You can't just leave them.

- It's all on my iTunes anyway.

- That's not the point.

None of this even matters.

I hate CDs anyway.

They're tacky. They get

scratched and they skip.

Only if you don't

take care of them properly.

Let me show you something.

Come on.

- Come on.

- What? No.

- Come on. Come on.

- Liam, I d... [sighs]

I'm not a baby.

You can let go of my hand.

You see this?

Radiohead. Kid A.

Only a limited number of first-edition

copies had this inside.

This is not the track listing

or the inlay sleeve.

It's a whole different

ball game.

A veritable phantasmagoria of

ideas, poems, phrases, artwork,

and they hid it in there.

You have to break it open

to find it.

See it as whatever you want.

A hidden treasure map to help

people understand the album

on a deeper level,

or an irrelevant gimmick

that will remain unread and unfound

by 99% of the people that bought it.

But the fact remains,

it was put there

for a reason.

And call me old-fashioned,

but I think it's nice,

as a functioning, alive,

flesh-and-blood human being,

to be able to hold something

tangible in your hands,

to appreciate the texture,

to actually have

an interaction with...

with something physical

and real...

before we all download

our brains into cyberspace

and receive a pixilated equation telling

us the formula for a good f***ing song,

or drinking

a decaf f***ing latte!

[exhales]

- [thunder rumbling]

- [people shouting, chattering]

Sh*t.

- [chattering continues]

- [rock music playing, faint]

Well, there's a two-hour queue

for the showers

and a four-hour queue

for the cash point.

Are you sure

there's no more food left?

We've got one tin of beans left.

That's it.

[sighs]

Next year,

when we're headlining,

we'll be backstage gorging on caviar...

lap of luxury.

Beans it is then.

Is that all right?

Yeah, it's fine.

Is it man-fine

or woman-fine?

What?

Oh, you know, like,

man-fine

means it's actually fine.

Like when you're in the pub

and someone says,

"They're all out of Heineken. I got you

a Stella." And you say, "That's fine."

You know,

it means exactly that.

Woman-fine

means I'm saying it's fine,

but there's an implicit sense of guilt,

anger, and thinly-veiled resentment

attached to the statement,

designed specifically to make the

man feel guilty and ashamed.

But there's no way

he could possibly contest it,

because technically you've

already said, "It's fine."

Though the tone of your voice,

you know, suggests

that the subtext is,

"I f***ing hate you."

[thunder rumbling]

That's woman-fine.

So is it actually fine, or...

No, it's not.

I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of everything.

This place, here, being stuck in a muddy

tent for three days with no food, no money.

I'm... I'm soaking wet.

This is sh*t!

Why did you

come here then?

[crowd cheering, faint]

Yeah. You're right.

I obviously

shouldn't have bothered.

I've... had enough.

What do you mean?

I've had enough!

If you're gonna be in a band,

then be in a f***ing band!

Work, rehearse, hustle, write!

I mean, you bang on about

how great you're gonna be,

and you haven't even

recorded the f***ing demo!

I gave up my dream

so that you could live yours.

This whole place,

it just sums you up.

Never Never Land for a bunch of

aimless, perpetually stoned slackers.

I get why you like it,

but I'm not 18 anymore.

I mean, there's more to life

than this.

Like what?

Like getting married.

Buying our own house.

Raising a family.

Where's all this

coming from?

This is exactly what I'm talking about.

You've got no idea, do you?

I'm not a student anymore.

I'm nearly 30. I...

Perfect.

Just perfect.

I bought you the tickets

because I know how much

you wanted to come.

I bought the tickets because you're skint.

Because you're always skint!

But I don't care.

I'd bankroll the both of us

until we're old and wrinkly

and our pensions have run out...

if you just really

tried to make this work.

What? Nat, w...

I'm going home.

- What are you saying?

- I need time to think.

And so do you.

[chattering]

Thank you.

Are you lost?

You all right?

[continues, indistinct]

- What's wrong?

- Little fella's lost.

[Liam sighs]

Don't worry, mate.

We'll find your mum.

[footsteps] You mustn't

run off like that!

How many times have I told you?

Come on.

What kind of mother takes her

son to a modern art gallery?

Borderline

child abuse.

What are we

doing here anyway?

I told you. We're doing a viral

campaign for the gallery.

- A wank, if you ask me.

- Shh!

[whispering] Keep your voice down.

These are clients.

- Liam, my boss is here, okay?

- Well, who cares what they think?

F***ing corporate whores!

[chuckles]

- Are you drunk?

- Maybe.

- Are you kidding me right now, Liam?

- No.

- [man] Natalie!

- [chuckles]

Liam. This is, um,

Mr. Jennings, my boss.

From the office party, remember?

And this is Adrian.

Hi. Good to see you, man.

How's the band going?

Is it

the Head Wipers?

It's going

f***ing awesome, mate.

Yeah, actually, Liam's not feeling too

great so he might have to head back.

- Sorry to hear that.

- Feel better, man.

Don't do this to me. You're drunk.

You need to go home.

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