Vim: I can't hear anything at all. I couldn't hear a thing, I was doing it all by sign language. (Starts to play "Masturbike".) Let's have a go at "Masturbike" while we're on the beat. Spider! Colin: Spider! Den: Spider! Vim: SPIDER! Colin: Spider! Stop... Den: Spider, do you want to do some work? Colin: Just take that out of your arm, will you? For heaven's sake, take that out of your arm. It doesn't do you any good, it just makes you feel stupid. Spider: Eighteen, nineteen, twenty! Vim: Now then. Now then, I've got a problem. Spider: Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine! Colin: (belches) Vim: I've got a problem here. Colin: Yes, it's being alive. Vim: I can't see the lyrics through this bit of stockinet. Colin: (sarcastically) Oh, we're all crying. Den: Why don't you move them to the other side of the microphone then, you twat? Vim: Because then I'm not singing across the two microphones which I have to have for my special peculiar kind of distinctive voice sound. Colin: Well, remember the motherfucking words then, you silly, silly ass. (Plays bass note.) Er, Peter Engineer? Vim: Okay! (Band starts to warm up.) Colin: Does my bass... never mind. (Band stops.) Does my bass sound better like this... (plays a few notes) or like this? (Plays a few more notes.) (Band starts up again.) Colin: It does sound ghastly at the moment. Could you all hush a tick? I know... I know it's heavy metal, but it does have to be self-disciplined. Den: Can I have a bit more of the snare in my drums... in my cans? Colin: No, it... oh, shut up. (Band grinds to a halt.) Colin: Nobody likes you. You know that, don't you? Nobody likes you. (Band starts up again.) Colin: I mean that. Nobody likes you. Vim: Alright, let's go! This one's called "Masturbike"! One, two, three, four! (sings) Fires of hell! Doomsday bell! Prison cell! Bloody hell! (Vim stops playing. The rest of the band follows.) Vim: The sound in my cans is just... I mean, unplayable with. Colin: Oh God, Mr Fussy goes to market. Spider: Yeah, Vim was totally out then. Den: I need more Vim. Vim: Shut up, or I'll piss on your face. Colin: Well, I wish you would, because it would be far more enjoyable than listening to you playing that instrument. Vim: Alright, I fucking will then. Den: I need more Vim in my cans. Vim: All I can hear is, fucking, "Chhhhhhhh".... Colin: Well then, you should play clearer. Vim: I am playing fucking clear. (Plays chord.) But, I mean, something's wrong somewhere. Colin: Has it ever occurred to you that you're working in the wrong art form? Vim: No. Colin: Well, it ruddy well ought to. You're like one of those people who comes along and says things like... Vim: Shut up! Colin: Yes, exactly! You're one of those people who come along and say "Oh shut up." You're a ghastly, ghastly individual. Nobody likes you, nobody wants to be in this pop group... Spider: Colin! Colin: What? Spider: Colin, it's not the time for this... Colin: Well... (Vim starts to play again, and stops.) Vim: I just, there's... there is nothing in these cans that I can play with. There isn't, really, I mean, it's so distorted... Colin: Stupid. Vim: ...when I turn it up... Colin: Stupid. Vim: Well, I've taken everything down on that little fader thing, and it just means I'm playing to virtually nothing. Colin: That's 'cause you've taken all the sound out of it. Vim: Shut your fucking face, you fucking cunt! Colin: Don't tell me what to do! I mean, don't tell me what to do, because, really, Alan... Vim: D'you want a f... Do you really want a fucking fight or what? 'Cause Den'll fucking give you one if you want one. Colin: Will you, Dennis? Den: I'm not giving him one! Vim: Fucking... Den: Oh, you mean a fight? Oh, sorry. (Vim starts to play again.) Spider: Never mind, it's all anarchy, innit? (Laughs.) Den: You're way out! Vim, Vim, you're way out. Come in here and listen to it, you're way out. (Vim goes into the control room.) Colin: Spider? Spider: Hello! Colin: (quietly) What do you think the problem is? D'you think he's drinking too much? Spider: It's the drink, and he's drunk with guitar power... and what happens is, you go flat. You've got these, like, chords blasting through your head, and guitar solos and that, and it just flattens your brain cells and you can't get in tune anymore. Colin: I didn't know that. That's what happens, is it? Spider: I don't know, I just made that up. Colin: It's a good theory. I tell you what I think is happening, quite honestly I think he's jealous of me. Spider: Well, let's face it, no-one expected you to make it through to... Colin: To the semi-finals, as it were. Spider: You could say that, yeah. And frankly, he's never fuckin' forgiven you, you know? Colin: Yeah. Spider: Anyway, Colin, well done. Colin: Well, thanks, Spides. Spider: Have you, er, got any cash at all? Colin: I've got some money, yes, why? Spider: Have you got fifty quid? I just owe this man... he's standing at the door now. Colin: I've got fifty pounds, I could... Spider: I've got to pay him or he's gonna hit me! Colin: Sounds a bit heavy. What do you owe him the fifty pounds for? Spider: Let's just say that it's something, you know... he did me a, you know... (Sniffs.) Colin: I don't understand. Spider (Sniffs.) Fifty quid! Up the fucking nostrils! (Laughs.) He's standing there now, with a gun... Colin: So, er, what rate of interest were you expecting on this loan? I was thinking about twenty per cent? Spider: Yeah, sure. Yeah, alright, yeah. Yeah, okay, yeah, twenty per cent, yeah! Colin: So if I lend you fifty pounds now, that means you, in a year... Spider: Yeah, yeah... Colin: You'll owe me sixty-five pounds... Spider: Yeah, sure. Give me the fifty pounds now, and I'll give you... I'll give it back to you. (Vim returns and plays a few chords.) Colin: It all seems very odd to me. Den: You alright? Vim: No! Spider: Well, I tell you what, give me the fifty quid... Colin: Yeah... Den: What's the problem? Vim: It's just a fuckin' horrible noise. (Plays chord.) Spider: And then, you know, we'll... we'll, you know... we'll have a good time. Oh, Colin.... Den: It's all Spider's fault for inviting Motorhead the other day. Vim: There's something wrong with my amplification. Man: Which one of you is Spider? Vim: Can you hear me? 'Cause it's just a fucking horrible noise in there. It's just horrible. Maybe we should just use the Marshall. I mean, it's just awful in there. (Plays chords.) Vim: Fucking cunt! Colin: He's right, it does sound awful. Den: I bet you he's broken another string. Colin: Well, he's not very good at playing the guitar, quite frankly. I mean, it's awful, isn't it, the sort of noise he makes? Look out, he's coming back in... It is awful, isn't it, I mean, the noise he makes? I think it's rotten. Do you think that? Den: I just wanna play. Colin: Yes, I know, I'm not talking about what you want to do, I'm just saying I think he's awful. Den: I've only got two strings left on my guitar, but I don't care. Colin: Yes, but you don't really play it, do you, so much as sort of bang it around the room, while we're jamming... joshing... Den: No, I play. I play. Colin: What's it called? Is it called joshing? What's that thing when you don't know what the tune is and you're all pretending you know... jamming! That's what it's called. (Vim plays a chord.) Colin: Spider, quick, get in that seat! (Plays a few more notes.) Colin: It's a bit of a jinxed song, this one, like one of those songs that's frightfully difficult for you. The rest of us find it quite easy, but you obviously have a hard time with it. Vim: Why don't you play it, and I'll just do the lyrics, then? Go on, you can all play it so fucking well. Colin: Well, actually, we can. I think it's probably your guitar that's getting in the way. Let's use this disadvantage to our advantage. One and-a-two and-a-three and-a-four... Den: No, somebody count us in properly! Colin: And-a-one, and-a-two, and-a-three... Den: Fucking shut up, Colin! (Band starts up.) Vim: (sings) Fires of hell! Doomsday bell! Prison cell! Bloody hell! On my masturbike. (Spider stops. Everyone else follows.) Spider: I can't hear the guitar... any of the guitars. Vim: You can't hear the guitars because I'm not playing, you stupid wanker. Spider: Well play it then, fucker! Colin: Are you cross, Vim? Vim: No, I'm not fucking cross, I'm completely pissed off. Colin: You look... you look cross to me. I don't think you should be cross. You've got a lot of friends here. Spider: Yeah, we'll all stab you in the back when you go out the fucking room! Colin: No, that's just a jape, isn't it, really, I mean... Alan... Vim: Well why don't I go out the fucking room? You don't want me to play guitar... Colin: We want you here! Vim: I'm not playing it 'cause it puts people off. Colin: Who? Vim: Spider said he didn't wanna fucking hear it. Colin: Oh, it's a SULK, is it? Oh, it's a sulk! I didn't understand it was a sulk, I thought it was... Vim: Why don't I just not play and not sing and see whether you can fucking count, you cunt! Colin: I thought it was broken, I didn't realise it was a sulk! You should have said, "I'm sulking," and then we would have understood. Spider: Right, just do it with the guitar, then, we'll... Colin: What does that mean? Roundy, roundy... Vim: What does that... what's this waving the stick in the air? (Spider starts drumming. Den joins in, then Colin. Vim starts to sing, but his vocals are drowned out by the band. He starts to play, the rest of the band stops.) Vim: See, as soon as I start fuckin' playing, Spider stops drumming and sticks his fuckin' hands in the air! What am I supposed to fuckin' DO? Colin: No, he's just stopping to say everything's okay. Spider: (sings) Oh, we're such a lovely bunch of boys! Vim: I don't think that's funny. Spider: (hits a few drums) Lub-a-lub-a-lub... Yeah, I'm fine! Colin: Well, keep the fucking... I'm, it's not a word I often use, but keep the f... you know, flipping rhythm. Now, can we all just keep in rhythm, try and stay friendly, and... (Den starts to play.) Colin: ...really give it some spunk. (Spider starts drumming. The others join in at different times.) Vim: (Stops playing.) Right, stop there, stop there! (They stop. Spider keeps drumming for a few bars.) Vim: Can you hear me? Can you hear me, Spider? Spider: Yes, I can hear you! Vim: When I say stop there, you might as well stop there, 'cause it's not actually going anywhere after I've said stop there, right? Colin: Isn't there a funny thing going on here... Vim: Once you've missed one beat, I think it's not worth going through the whole thing. Colin: ...that you miss one note and you think we should all stop, whereas we're really playing like billy-ho... Vim: Well, that's what I'm fucking saying! If you think you can all play like fucking billy-ho gung-ho toffee-nosed snot-nosed shit-faces, then why don't you fucking do it on your own and I'll come in and fucking overdub everything? (Den and Spider start to play.) Colin: Please play, please play! (Vim starts to sing. Den and Spider stop playing.) Vim: There you are, Den's fucking stopped! Every time I start, Den stops! Den: I stopped because you came in on the wrong beat, didn't you? Colin: Hey... Vim: Alright, I won't fucking come in, then! Colin: No... Den: No, come in, but on the right beat, you wanker! Colin: Please come in! Please come in, and I'm sure you don't masturbate, and everybody thinks you're great... why don't we just, you know, really pull together. Spider: Let's go! One, two... (Spider starts drumming. Nobody knows when to come in. He stops after about thirty seconds.) Spider: You came in on the wrong beat. Vim: Well, how many fucking intros are there? Colin: There's only so many ruddy-duddies you can do. Vim: That was about fifteen seconds' worth! Give us a fucking nod, then! Colin: I'm with you, Alan. Vim: I fucking hate you, I fucking hate you and I fucking hate you. Colin: I do too. (Den starts playing.) Vim: What's that supposed to mean, Den? Den: That's supposed to mean "Get on with it!" Spider: Yeah, get on with it! Vim: Alright. (Vim starts playing unexpectedly. The others join in at the wrong time. Again.) Den: Start properly! Colin: Shut up! Shut up, start properly! (Vim starts singing. Spider decides to start drumming now.) Colin: No, start properly! You stupid drunk! (It stops.) Den: Start properly! Vim: I don't think that's the sort of... Colin: Right, now, you two, both of you, both of you two guitarists, shut up, listen. Vim: If he comes any fucking closer to me I'm gonna fucking hit him! (Spider starts again.) Colin: Once and for all... Here we go, this is it! This is it! Spider: (Still drumming.) One, two, three, four, five! Vim: What's that supposed to be, "one, two, three, four, five"? What's that supposed to be? Colin: Hush now, give me a chance, give me a chance. Spider! Spider: (STILL drumming.) One, two, three, four! (The others join in. Everyone stops simultaneously after one verse.) Vim: Well, the only thing I can say about that is that we all stopped at the same time. Apart from that it was shit. Den: It was good when we stopped though, wasn't it? Spider: Let's go straight away again. Vim: It was fuckin' great when we stopped! Den: Count us in again, though. Count us in again. (Spider starts drumming. They join in again. It collapses.) Colin: Well, if you don't keep playing, I just can't keep along. I'm supposed to support the drums, that's my function. Vim: Well, I'm with Colin. This is the first time I've agreed with Colin in my life! Colin: I agree with you. No, actually, I don't. Vim: I think you shouldn't try to be so fucking flash in the fills, and hit just... just hit the fucking snare, if nothing else! Colin: Absolutely. There's always a drum machine tapping on your shoulder! Den: You have played it tonight! Vim: You fucking played it at Hammersmith! Why can't you fucking play it now? Den: You have played it tonight! Colin: What's the matter? Are you in love or something? Vim: Have you got an emotional problem, Spider? Have you got something praying on your mind, you got a stiffy or something? Spider: No, I just hear this blasting noise through my ears, I can't... Vim: I'M fuckin' hearing a fucking blasting noise! (Plays guitar.) That's it! It's fuckin' Den! Colin: That's it, yes. Den: That's what we are! I thought that's... we ARE a blasting noise, aren't we? Colin: No, for fuck's sake, just play the one fucking beat all the way through, otherwise it's curtains for your career, love. Den: Okay! Vim: No fucking fills! You can overdub the fills... (Spider starts to play.) That's a fill! That's... (Spider continues.) That's five fucking fills! (Den joins in.) Colin: Shut up! (Vim starts to sing.) Colin: No, shut up. Shut up! (It falls apart again.) Vim: There, you see, you're doing it again! You're trying to fucking syncopate or something! As soon as you do that it's not worth going on. Colin: See, Spider's left the band now because you were so unsubtle. Who was it called him a cunt? Vim: It was you, wasn't it? Colin: Oh, so it was! Silly me. Come on boys, let's sort this out. Den: What's happening? Vim: Has Spider... I mean, has he left the band or what? Den: I don't know, he sort of... Vim: It's fucking difficult to know, isn't it? Someone walks out... Den: Well, you haven't exactly... Vim: Fucking Colin's walked out now! Den: You haven't exactly been subtle. Vim: Have they both left, or what? Den: I think that, basically, everyone just got fucked off with the way you were behaving, you know. Vim: What... I wasn't fucking behaving at all! Den: They've turned out the lights and all left in the control room as well. Everyone's gone. I think, basically, everyone just got completely fucked off with you, basically. Vim: I was prepared to not... I was prepared to stand down. Den: Basically, you've been, you know, winding everyone up, and behaving like a complete, you know, twat and a shit all night, and basically, everyone left. Vim: But you like me though, don't you? Den: No. Vim: You fucking do! Den: I don't. Vim: You fucking do like me! Den: I do not! Vim: You've always fucking liked me! Den: I don't, I don't, I'm just here 'cause I wanna play music! Vim: Ever since I fucking interviewed you you've liked me. Den: And anyway, I haven't got, you know, the van here today, and... Vim: How are you gonna get home then? Den: ...I'm waiting for you to give me a lift.