Here’s a sample from a script I’ve been writing about two musicians and their desperate attempts to make it…
Dave is strumming away on his Les Paul replica, while Mick wails, cracking open a can of Carling as he goes. This is convenient, as Mick’s surname is Whails; Dave’s is Strummer
MW:
Whoahhhhh she’s the only one….
DS:
The only one….
MW tosses DS a can, and they break for a drink.
DS:
That rocked man
MW:
Yeh that was good. Tapes still rolling?
DS:
Yep. While we’re miked up and recording let’s go through some more potential band names. We can’t go on as Killer Whails.
MW:
Yeh… you know that was always my favourite -
DS:
- no shit, Mick Whail -
MW:
- but I know it’s not a killer name. We need something a bit punchier, a bit of vavavoom
DS:
I always liked Atomic Karma.
MW:
Nahhh too dull. Doesn’t mean anything! Sounds a bit bloody hippy with that Karma shit as well. Plus it makes us sound like a fucking Blondie covers band.
DS:
We do Atomic…
MW:
We do “Smells Like Teen Spirit” but we’re not called Nirvana Karma….
DS:
That’s not bad…
MW:
Yeah I like that.
DS picks up the guitar and blasts out a Nirvana riff….
MW:
Ladies and Gentlement, we are nirvana karma! Yeh that might work.
DS:
That might work. What time’s the match on?
MW:
7.30 - got three hours dude.
DS:
Nice one.
Dave sits down, puts the guitar to one side and lights a fag.
DS:
Who’d have thought it eh? Me and you, sharing this house and being in a band like a real-life Monkees?
MW:
I’m Davy Jones! Don’t forget it!
DS:
If you want, mate. But just think, after all these years busily working to make it, we managed to buy a house outright. That’s some going.
MW:
It’s a house, Dave. Not a house each. People are talking.
DS:
About?
MW:
You know… two blokes in their thirties buying a house together.
DS:
I don’t follow you. It’s not a very interesting topic for gossip is it?
MW:
Think about it. Me and you living here, no steady girlfriends, occasional visits from other people…
DS:
Depressing isn’t it?
MW:
They’re think we’re batting for the rear gunners!
DS:
Eh?
MW:
Christ haven’t you heard? My mother was convinced we were getting married because someone told her we had a priest here last week.
DS:
That was Father Longjohn and the Choirboys. That doesn’t sound too good either, does it? (the ring gag)
MW:
Exactly! Plus only managing to pull one lass between us isn’t doing anyone any good, in all honesty.
DS:
Well they’re often very accommodating in those situations.
MW:
Dave, tits and ass last night was more than accommodating. Could have laid a football pitch in there.
WHAT TO DO NOW?