Vinyl Page #3

---

and this is the Beatles.

I told you. No one's interested.

We'll find another record company.

Rome wasn't built in a day.

No, but it fell in one, didn't it?

Minto's right. Just drop it, John.

We're too old for this.

Do you wanna put the

tickets in there, babe?

Yeah.

You Okay?

Yeah, I'm fine. Just looking forward

to getting back to Ireland.

And now, here's a new

band out of Wales.

And when it hits number one,

remember where you heard it first.

It's us.

That's our record.

What are you doing?

I'm unpacking.

Mrs. Hanratty's had an accident.

Sunshine Care Homes.

Robbie speaking.

Robbie, turn the radio on.

We're on Sound Radio 1.

Yeah. They sometimes play us

on the '80s flashback set.

No, mate. "Free Rock

and Roll" is on!

- Oh.

- "Free Rock and Roll"!

Free rock and roll,

free rock and roll, oh

Go for the throat, yes,

destroy the system

Smash it all up, lose control

We've done it! It's

"Free Rock and Roll"!

We're on! Yes!

Johnny! It's brilliant!

I feel great.

I can't believe we're

back on the radio.

I told you. When it's from the

heart, people feel it, eh?

That is "Free Rock and Roll,"

by the great un-signed band

out of Wales, the Single Shots.

- This is Chris Knowles on Sound...

- Huh?

- Single Shots? Hang on.

- Go on, then.

- It's not a big deal.

- It's not that big a deal?

We're getting airplay there,

and no one knows it's us.

Exactly. We're coming

in under the radar.

- It's perfecto.

- Perfecto?

- We haven't even got a bloody contract.

- It doesn't matter.

The deejay thinks the Single

Shots are the kind of

hot young band the record

companies are looking for.

Yeah, but it's not them, it's us.

And what a stupid,

stupid bloody name.

We're too old.

Mr. Dobbs needs the toilet.

No. He just thinks he does.

He's got a bag.

If people don't take Weapons of

Happiness seriously anymore,

I say we give them what

they want... a virtual band.

What, you mean, like,

computerize ourselves?

No. We hire a load of spotty

kids to stand in for us

and mime our music, right?

And when the single hits the charts,

we reveal the scam to the press

and shame the corporate tossers

for the hypocrites they are.

Oh, right. And whose money is gonna be

paying for the hire of these school kids?

Yours, mate? 'Cause it ain't

gonna be mine, I'm telling you.

We chop them in on

the profits. Yeah?

Very entrepreneurial,

don't you think?

I ain't got time for this.

I got a business to run.

Yeah. And I can't give them a job.

You don't have to.

The fake band do all the work,

and we laugh all the

way to the bank.

Well, I suppose I could

do with the extra cash.

Minto?

All I know is, right, I'm on the

radio, and I want to get paid.

And if that means that

we have to hire a bunch

of talentless, spotty school

kids to get it, all right.

All right. So be it, mate.

But I'm watching you.

Shh. It's a rock and roll swindle.

Free rock and roll,

free rock and...

Sorry. Can I start... Sorry.

- Free rock and roll

- Free rock and roll

Free rock and roll, oh

Go for the throat,

destroy the system

Smash it all up, lose control

Start a revolution in

your livin' room now

- Go ahead.

- I was told there'd be one.

Go for the throat,

destroy the system

Free rock and roll

Free rock and roll

Smash it all up

Free rock and roll,

free rock and roll

Free rock and roll, oh

I can't really play guitar.

Why do I have to be a girl?

Told you he'd be like this.

Must be his time of the month.

There's a lad outside

wants an audition.

Tell him to piss off.

We got a band.

I tried, but he won't go away.

He's a real pain in the ass.

- All right?

- Auditions are over, mate.

Yeah, but your band's gonna

be sh*t without me, so...

Listen, you spout that kind of cockiness

when you've got three gold records.

- What's your name, drainpipe?

- Drainpipe.

He reminds you of Johnny.

Same puffy strut and pushy manner.

I'm a shadow in the shape of a man

You may say I'm shallow,

but I say I'm bland

Everywhere is my hometown

- But I'll stay

- Okay, Donovan.

Put your name and number

in the bin on your way out.

Mate, I ain't done yet.

You're finished, mate.

Finito. Kaput.

- That was a bit harsh, wasn't it?

- Audience is harsher.

You can't bear anyone else be

the center of attention, mate.

Oh, yeah? What's that

supposed to mean?

Well, you're still the same,

aren't you? Hmm?

Can't share it. It's all gotta

be about you, isn't it?

I mean, that is why you

split up the band.

I split up the band

because my dad died.

I was on me own, and all you

cared about was going on tour.

No card, no acknowledgement,

no nothing.

That's not why you

split up the band.

Yes, it is.

Wait a minute. You weren't

that close to your dad.

No, you weren't.

He was my dad.

You lot did my f***ing head in.

I upset him a lot.

Yeah, either you or the last fella.

Sat down like chewing gum

on the bottom of your feet

You're holding me down,

you're so sticky and so sweet

I don't know why you

think you're in control

- Come off it!

- Hey, what...

You on the streets, or what, mate?

What's wrong with you?

- Simon!

- I don't know why you think

- Hi, Robbie. You all right?

- No, I'm not, mate.

Who's Simon?

This is Simon. Hello, Simon.

- Time for you to go, I think.

- What?

Time to move on.

All right. I'm going,

I'm going. I'll move.

Thank you very much, little man.

All right. I'm going.

- Take the case with you.

- Yeah.

Okay -

You can do better than

that, mate! Come on!

Come back here! Come on!

Oh, brilliant. Here. You

need to hold that for me.

Okay -

- Hi, girls. How we doing?

- All right.

- Yeah, good?

- All right.

You again.

- Oh, you are just a dirty pervert...

- Come on. You're gonna have to leave.

- ...looking up a girl's skirt.

- Time to go.

- Don't take him, please!

- Come on. It's time to go.

What have you gone and did?

I've told him before!

Calm down, calm down.

Are you gonna take him away?

Do you know this man?

- Yes.

- He's my...

I'm taking him home for some

old-fashioned discipline, sir.

Okay. I don't want to see him again.

He's here again, he gets nicked.

- Thank you.

- Take him.

I went to see the Sex

Pistols, right? My old man...

Oh, here we go.

Where the bloody

hell have you been?

Found the singer.

No, no. We have found the singer.

I have chosen this guy.

We have chosen this guy.

Well, I choose the skinny

kid in the drainpipe.

Not the one that's

dressed like a peacock.

What? You said you didn't like him.

What you on about?

Cocky little bollocks, eh?

- Here's my man!

- I'm his man.

He told me this...

- You said you weren't gonna speak.

- Yeah, but I...

He's turning my studio

into a bloody dosshouse.

Stop groaning, mate.

I don't get it. Why we got

to move into this dump?

'Cause you've got to

look like a real band.

What's that got to do with

us shacking up together?

For this to work, it's got to appear like

you spend every waking hour together,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes