Worried About the Boy Page #3

A pint of beer, cheers.

Alright, John?

Kirk. Shouldn't you be up there?

They can have him when I'm done.

All right. Go break someone else's leg.

What are you? A fan?

I'm a drummer.

Oh, checking out the competition, are we?

Something like that.

Jon Moss.

A handshake? How very traditional.

George O'Dowd. So very pleased

to make your aquaintance.

O'Dowd? Irish?

Irish to the heels of me brogues.

And what do you do, George?

Apart from taking a piss?

I take care of Kirk's appearance.

I thought his mom was still dressing him.

He's moving out of home very soon.

We'll probably get a place together.

Something nice in the suburbs.

Growing veg, skin our own goats...

All very Tom and Barbara.

Kirk? He's as straight as I am.

Well, I'd say the jury's still out on the pair of you.

Jon, are you there?

What do you want?

Who are you doing?

It's the middle of the night,

I'm not in the f***in' mood for this.

Well maybe I'm in the mood so make

a f***in' effort to get into the mood!

Get to the point, George.

I'm quitting the band.

Didn't we fire you already?

Nobody fires me, you dwarf, I am the band!

And now i'm a solo artist. Branson would

cut his own dick off to get my signature!

Yeah, well, good luck with that.

Let me know how it goes, won't you?

Go to bed, George.

Who are you with?

What does it matter?

Just answer the f***in' question.

I'm not with anyone.

I'm on my own, trying to sleep.

Liar.

What do you wanna hear?

What do I have to say so that

we can both get some sleep?

Just tell me and I'll say it.

What do i wanna hear?

What do you wanna hear?

I wanna hear...

I wanna hear you say...

Repeat after me.

I'm a talentless dwarf and I've made a

pile of money riding on your coattails.

Go f*** yourself, George.

George! George!

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,

catch a poser by the toe.

If he hollars, let him go,

eeny, meeny, miny...

Mo. Go. Before I change mu mind.

You better be f***in' important

to be parking on my yellow line!

Sir!

He's looking for dancers! For a video!

Who?

Bowie!

Is it really him?

You can copy the look,

you can mimic the voice

but you can't fake the crooked teeth.

You're too late.

I am the chosen one.

You?!

I'll let you in on a little secret, though.

David's asked me to pick two

other dancers.

People I think would compliment

the look of his new video. So...

If you'll excuse, that's what I'm

gonna do. Better luck next time!

First he steals my look!

Then he steals my career!

I mean, I was into Bowie before

Steve Strange cultivated his first pubes!

Are you even listening to me?

Should my face be on this?

I bet that would call upon Grammies.

Bollocks! Twit! Bowie's loss is your gain.

You're gonna sell millions and then

I can finally tell my parents

what I'm gonna do for the rest of my life.

And what's that?

Help you spend all your money, of course.

That is still the plan, isn't it?

Yeah. Yeah, of course.

Hello?

Can I speak with Kirk, please?

Don't do this to me.

Not on the phone.

You say it to my face!

Say it to my f***in' face, you coward!

What are you doing here, you silly totter?

Have you got something to say to me?

Who is it?

It's for me, mom!

You came all this way to make a scene?

I'd walk further than this.

Well, get in here!

He's a funny looking thing.

He's had a fight with his girlfriend.

What?

Boys like that do not have girlfriends.

What do you want me to do?

Kick him out in the street?

Bless, his little heart's broken.

He'll get over it.

Kirk...

I made f***in' onion rings for you.

You have no idea how much I've cried.

I was hoping you'd just take the hint.

But we had plans...

Everyone makes plans.

It doesn't mean anything.

Look at me.

I'm your girl.

But you ain't.

I'm Jane Fonda, I'm Joan Collins.

I'm Cheryl Ladd.

I'm whatever you think I am.

We were just f***ing around, you

know? Experimenting. None of it's real.

It's like I ever got with punk.

Just shut about punk. Forget about punk.

That's what I'm saying.

Punk's gone.

I don't know what's next.

It's all changed and you've never noticed.

Everyone looks more like you

and less like me.

Yeah, well, I'd give anything

to look like you.

I've been trying to keep up.

I've been pretending I'm something

I'm not. I'm sorry, George, it's not you.

It's fashion.

Whoever the b*tch is, I hope

she knows how lucky she is.

Yeah? Well at least my mom knows

how to make Yorkshire pudding

you shrivelled-dick country whore!

I never wanna see you again!

Come on, sindis.

I said:
"No, David."

The travel was first class. The beach...

The most beautiful beach you've ever

been to had a massive Ferguson tractor.

Ten seconds in a Bowie video

and he thinks he's Liz Taylor.

He thought they'd be filming in Barbados

and they ended up in South End.

They should have let me drive

that bulldozer down the beach.

I would have flattened the bastard.

At least he's doing something with his

life. What have you, freaks, achieved?

You know what this means, don't you?

What?

If Steve Strange can get on television...

anyone can.

Half of it doesn't even rhyme.

Poetry doesn't have to rhyme.

I thought these were song lyrics.

That's what poetry is, you spaz!

You should learn an instrument.

Guitars are too butch,

drums make you sweat...

And no one even notices the keyboard player.

No.

I'm a solo artist.

Alright, George?

Steve and me wanted a quick word.

Here he is.

Well, I'm off. I'll see you next Tuesday.

Sit down, Rusty.

I don't wanna be involved in this.

Well, you are involved so sit!

God, who died?

Empty your pockets, George.

Why?

Because we're your employers

and we're telling you to.

You're making a big mistake.

All right. The bag.

Happy now?

We owe you an appology.

Yeah! Too f***in' right you do.

I mean, you wouldn't try this sh*t if I was in NUCA.

What's NUCA?

National Union of Cloakroom Attendants.

I'm starting it tomorrow.

George!

What now?

I just like to say...

that I'm really, really sorry.

Yeah, and so you should be.

Really sorry...

...that I have to fire you.

You can't fire me, I quit!

You can't quit after you're fired!

I quit, it's just the end of my shift!

Well, you haven't mentioned it to

me or Rusty so it doesn't count.

Yeah, it counts. Me and Martin are

talking about starting a band.

Martin f***in' Degville!

If that man ever records a note of

music, I'll burn my record player!

Yeah? I quit!

No, you're fired!

Quit!

Can we just agree that

you no longer work here?

Fired.

Quit.

Fired!

Quit!

He's fired.

He's up there!

George!

Nice night for it.

Sorry, love.

Who is it?

It's George!

Whoa, I never said you could come in.

Yeah? Don't play silly buggers with me.

Where's the drugs?

You're Malcolm McLaren?

So much for the new look.

What are you?

I'm a singer.

Come on, son.

No, no, no, leave him, he's a singer.

We should let him sing.

In your own time.

What do you wanna hear?

Whatever pops into your deluded little head.

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