Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll Page #4

Oi, Chaz, let's start this up.

We'll go for the rock. We'll have

white face, black shirt, white socks.

One, two, three, four.

# Who, who, who slapped John?

# White face, black shirt

# White socks, black shoes

# Black hair, white Strat,

bled white, died black

# Sweet Gene Vincent

# There's one in every town

# And the devil drives

# Till the hearse arrives

# And you lay that pistol down

Just keep singing that last verse.

# Sweet Gene Vincent

# There's one in every town

# And the devil drives

till the hearse.. .

Keep singing!

# Sweet Gene Vincent

I hope you don't mind me saying,

but you are being a bit

of a right old moody.

We said we'd look after him, Ian.

Yeah, I know. He's my son.

-I've got him a driver and everything.

-What, someone reliable?

Yeah, yeah, of course.

-Really?

-I mean, the man was

a roadie with Led zeppelin,

for f***'s sake.

All right, Baxter?

I've got a little surprise for you.

Ooh, speak of the devil,

and he will appear.

Can you feel him slouching

ever nearer?

Ooh, has Santa Claus come

early this year? No.. .

It's the Sulphate Strangler!

# The sons of the prophet

were brave men and bold

# And quite unaccustomed to fear

# But the bravest by far

in the ranks of the Shah

# Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer

# One day, this bold Russian

# He shouldered his gun

# And donned his most truculent sneer

# Downtown he did go,

where he trod on the toe

# Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer

-Watch it!

-Oh, sh*t! Oh, sorry.

Lovely.

You all right, Dad?

l'm doing pretty good

at the moment, you know.

You should come and see me.

Would you like that?

# The sons of the

prophet were brave men and bold

# And quite unaccustomed to fear

Your mum told your dad to tell me

to make sure you went in. Now, go on.

I look like a prick.

Well, that went well, then.

Come on.

Did you?

-Don't shout at me!

I'm not shouting. Who's shouting?

Did you or did you not

try and sell my typewriter?

-How would you know?

-'Cause it says in here,

"For sale, Ian Dury's

f***ing typewriter"!

All right, I did it.

I admit it, all right?

-Hello?

Ian, we need to work.

But you know what, Ian?

No one f***ing wanted it.

I am not your f***ing pet, all right?

I'm as hungry for this as you are.

Oh, boo. The green-eyed

monster's coming out, is it?

The world doesn't revolve

around you!

Oh, I think you'll find

it f***ing does.

-How was school?

-Okay.

-F*** you!

-Feeling left out, are you?

-Double f*** you.

-Oh, f***ing hell, that hurt.

Write some lines!

I will show more respect!

And I'm doing all this f***ing work,

all this work

for the family, right?

You and me. You and me, it's for us.

Oh, God.

You fight like a bloke, Denny.

Oh, great. Broke me new leg.

Can you help me take it off, please?

Ian? Hello?

Everything you do is

for the family, is it, Ian?

-Yeah, yeah.

-Right, that's f***ing bollocks.

Everything you do is for you,

on your terms.

And if the rest of us happen

to fit along,

-then that is a f***ing bonus.

-Is that what you think, is it?

-Yeah, that's what I think.

-Yeah? Is that what you really think?

'Cause if that's right,

well, you better f*** off, then,

because do you know what?

I can't handle this.

I can't handle this.

I'm on a flow at the moment, right?

I'm right in it. I'm right inside it.

And you're getting

right inside my brain,

when I'm on one,

and I won't have it, all right?

So if you can't handle it,

then f*** off.

You think you can do without me,

do you, Ian?

-Yeah.

-Really?

Oi. Can I have me leg back?

Oi, don't leave me on the floor.

I'm a raspberry.

Nice throw.

Just easy.

Got it!

F***! F***!

We can rebuild him.

He just needs a bit of distance.

I'm either too close

or not far enough away.

Denise, what.. .

What happened to him

happened a long time ago.

There's nothing we can do

about it now.

Everyone has their weakness.

It's just that his weakness

is so obvious

he doesn't need to worry about it.

But what about me?

What am I supposed to do?

My weakness is loving him.

Dad's home.

I'm knocking 40.

I'm a bit of a shorty.

Little bit haughty,

a bit nutty, a bit naughty.. .

Enough with the rhyming couplets.

Look, I will pay front money

for the room,

proper wedge.

You can be the stern landlady,

with the surgical stockings

and the twinkle in her eye.. .

-This is serious.

-I will be

generally a domestic god

for the duration.

I promise. Please.

Oh, come on, Bet, just this once.

I've got work.

All right?

Faster. Cured.

Healthy.

Up, up, up!

Sliders out first, then walkers.

All hands on!

Come on! Come on,

let's be having you.

Oi, get a move on.

Up, up, up!

Oi, Dury, get on with it.

Shitter!

Shitter, shitter, shitter!

-Faster. Cured.

-Shitter, shitter.

Shitter, shitter.

-Faster.

-Shitter, shitter.

Cured.

-Shitter, shitter.

-Shitter, shitter.

-All right, all right!

Get a move on!

Where's your daddy now?

Healthier. Improving.

Greenness, cured.

Frustration, stagger.

Stun!

Knock one down

with a feather, clever.. .

Clever Trevor.

See, the English language

is a gloriously sophisticated

smorgasbord of words and phrases.

Songwriting's really not

that complicated.

It's all about the verbals.

I'll go first.

Cock.

Your turn.

-Willy.

-Dick.

-Knob.

-Love truncheon.

-Dong.

-Meat and two veg.

Um. ..

Come on,

keep them coming.

-Rhythm stick.

-Chopper.

-Old man.

-Pork sword.

One-eyed trouser snake.

Ah!

Look at you all, look.

Bloody marvellous.

I love being

in the warm bosoms of my family.

You know why?

Because I love warm bosoms.

Dad.. .

Come on, dinner's on the table.

Come on, then. Touch me again

and I'll punch your head in.

Kick your head in. Kick your head in!

Touch me again

and I'll kick your f***ing teeth

so far down your Gregory Peck,

you'll be able to eat

out of your Khyber Pass!

-F*** me, look who it is.

-F*** off!

Dreary Dury, the Dancing Durex.

-Don't get snotty on me, posh boy.

-Leave me alone.

Yeah, walk away! F*** off!

Gonna get your Spazzy Joe dad

to come and save you?

'Cause guess what?

We don't give a sh*t who he is.

-F***ing spaz.

-What's his name again?

-Captain Cripple the Raspberry Ripple!

-F*** off.

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

You learnt some words, have you?

Proper little villain.

-All right, Bax?

-All right, Strang?

You know you've got blood

coming out of your nose?

"Who awoke the sleeping tiger?

"It was thee.

"The dormant devil did no harm,

"except to me.

"The writer sat, scratching his arse,

"wishing he wasn't middle class.. ."

I've met someone else.

What, around here?

You wanna be careful.

He's Welsh. He does ceramics.

Oh, pottery sheep?

We should think about

getting a divorce.

No. No.

It would be better for you,

better for the kids, better for Denise.

That's far too logical.

No, Bet, that would be

just like tossing everything away.

-Don't do this, Ian.

-I love you.

I know you love me.

But you don't need me.

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