Original subtitles

(FLICKERING)

(POP MUSIC PLAYING)

Jon, Jon, he won't come out of the car.

(KNOCKING ON WINDOW)

Is he definitely in there?

George, don't be a prat. Not today.

MIKEY: How are we going to get him out?

What are you looking at me for?

I think he might be upset about something.

(SIGHS)

George, will you open the door

so that we can talk about this?

Please?

Pretty please?

(SCREAMING) Open the bloody door!

Biggest day of our lives and you're going to ruin it!

Well, thank you! Thank you very much!

I hope you suffocate in there!

(BELL RINGING)

CAREER ADVISOR: O'Dowd.

(SIGHS)

(CLEARS THROAT)

So, George, what do you want to be?

Don't know.

No burning ambitions? Fighter pilot?

Hairdresser? Captain of the England team?

Valerie Singleton's soap on a rope?

(LAUGHING) I've had them all in here today.

Unemployment is on the rise, you need a skill.

What can you do better than others.

Make up.

Well, it's not really a career choice, is it…

At the end of Play for Today it says "Make Up by…"

Listen, sunshine, the future might seem a long way off right now,

but you take one wrong step

and who knows where you might end up.

(DOOR OPENS) (KEYS JINGLING)

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION ON POLICE RADIO)

(DOOR UNLOCKING)

(DOOR OPENS)

A dress?

You can nick anything you want and you choose a dress?

You know, son, I was 18 once.

Brothel creepers, drapes,

the biggest quiff in the neighborhood, you know.

I get it.

But this thing you're going through right now, it won't last forever.

Fashions come and go.

Fashion is what you adopt when you don't know who you are.

Quentin Crisp said that.

The poof in the hat?

I don't pretend to know much,

but I do know this,

you're never going to achieve anything

in this life looking like that.

Who says I want to achieve anything?

Why is everyone so obsessed with how I'm going to turn out?

Because we're worried about you.

We want the best for you.

Whatever's going to happen to me,

I don't think it's going to happen here.

(SIGHS)

Here you are, son, mind yourself.

Thank you.

(ROCK SONG PLAYING)

DAWN: Pull the zip, pull the zip down.

Just pull the zip down.

I'm pulling it.

Pull it down. Are you breathing in?

Hiya. Hey.

(LAUGHS)

You gotta breathe in.

I am breathing in.

I'm updside down. Just pull the fucking zip down.

(DRILLING)

(WOMAN YELLING)

(WATER DRIPPING)

MARILYN: Nice pants.

Am I dreaming?

Why don't you pinch yourself?

Ouch.

All right, George.

Is this yours?

Isn't she great?

She?

It's Marilyn Monroe.

What does that make me, Bette Davis?

(SCOFFS)

What's its real name?

Norma Jean.

(EXHALES)

MARILYN: What are you wearing?

This would go for 200 quid in Sex.

I found the suit in a bin behind a wedding hire shop,

hacked up an old kilt for the straps.

I'm sure that would be very outrageous back home in Trumpton.

Eltham.

What are you, exactly?

You're not a punk.

Too much make up even for a mod.

And I think we can rule out skinhead or hippy.

Glam, perhaps?

I'm nothing.

Which is why I can look good in anything.

Anything?

(ROCK SONG PLAYING)

And what have we stumbled upon here?

A boy, is it?

(GASPS)

A boy in mascara!

(SNAPS FINGERS)

Take a good look.

Would you let this in?

Go home and make an effort!

(PEOPLE LAUGHING)

And here they line up, the Wacky Racers.

(CHUCKLES)

Penelope Pitstop,

Peter Perfect,

the Gruesome Twosome,

the Ant Hill Mob.

And I guess that makes you Dick Dastardly.

Or Muttley, perhaps?

I heard there's a shortage of pricks in London tonight.

So good of you to get a coach in from the valleys

and make up the shortfall.

We are very busy tonight…

That's because they've all come to look at me, you Welsh fuck.

(LAUGHING)

(ELECTRONICA MUSIC PLAYING)

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

(CAMERA CLICKING)

(CHUCKLES)

All right, Billy.

You can smell the fucking mothballs from here.

Am I the only one making an effort?

I mean, it's worse than last week.

T.B.H.

To Be Had.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

Excuse me. Sorry.

Sorry. Excuse me. I just want to get to the bog.

Thank you.

MAN: Oi! There's a queue here.

Oh, this is ridiculous!

Last Train to Clarksville?

No thanks, darling.

But give my love to Vicious and Joplin when you see them.

(CAMERA CLICKING)

Sorry. Just wanted to get a…

What are you apologizing for? Keep going!

(CLICKING)

NEWSREADER: Further allegations regarding the pop star Boy George

have emerged today, following revelations in a Sunday newspaper

by his younger brother David.

The Culture Club lead vocalist,

real name George O'Dowd,

is reportedly spending £800 a day on heroin.

Friends and family have offered support to the troubled star,

but are calling for police action to be taken.

(REPORTERS CLAMORING) (CAMERAS CLICKING)

REPORTER: How are you feeling, George?

Fine and fucking dandy. How are you?

Are you going to buy drugs, George?

Not unless they started selling scag in Tescos.

How are you feeling today?

Same as I was three seconds ago when you asked me that.

Why do you think your brother grassed you up?

Maybe he's a compulsive liar.

Are you taking drugs, George?

No. Why, are you?

We're offering £50,000 to anyone who can prove you're on heroin.

For that sort of money I might just take it up.

Is that a confession?

(CLAMORING CONTINUES)

(CAMERA CLICKING)

I'm not a drug addict, I'm a drag addict.

And if you're going to quote me on anything,

for God's sake make sure it's that.

Now kindly fuck off. Go pick on Wham! for a change.

We're worried about you, George.

Do you really want to help me?

I need milk, tea, sugar, and Weetabix.

Oh, and some Coke. The fizzy brown variety.

(REPORTERS GROAN)

REPORTER: Message for the fans, George?

MAN 1: Oi, darling.

Don't walk away, I'm talking to you, ain't I?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

MAN 1: Come here, darling. I'm talking to you.

Come on.

Come on, come on…

MAN 2: Yeah, you want some? Come on!

MAN 1: Come here, darling. I wanna see ya.

(MEN CONTINUE SPEAKING)

Hey, leave her alone.

Go on, sod off.

MAN 1: What's your problem?

(MUTTERING)

MAN 3: Freaks! (MEN LAUGHING)

You must be my knight in camouflaged armor.

(GEORGE MOANING)

I'm not really gay.

It's okay. I'm not really a nun.

(BOTH LAUGHING)

Let's just say I memorized

every name and number, from A to D.

(LAUGHS)

You're a fucking fantasist.

What's this, then?

(SCOFFS) You could've done that yourself.

You're accusing me of sucking my own neck?

No, I'm saying you pinched it yourself

to make it look like a love bite.

That's not even possible.

Yeah, it is. Watch.

(GROANING)

What are you homos doing?

It's a scientific experiment to prove

that George is a lying little poof.

You'll meet him at the party, then you'll see.

BOTH: What party?

(ELECTRONICA MUSIC PLAYING)

(MUSIC CONTINUES PLAYING)

(LAUGHING)

All right, darling, how you doing?

(LAUGHS)

You all right?

Have you seen Vernon?

I need to fuck someone.

Oh, God.

Vernon?

MAN: Over there, mate.

Darling, have you seen Vernon?

No…

(WOMAN MOANING)

(SWITCH CLICKS)

Ooh, sorry. Anyone see…

Shut the door, George, there's a breeze howling up my chuff.

VERNON: George!

George!

George!

George, come here. George!

Sorry, is it my turn already?

How do you want me? Up the stairs or in the crapper?

I tried to tell you…

Tell me what?

You know… No, I don't know! Tell me what.

That your mum's got piles?

That you secretly listen to Billy Joel records?

That I'm straight.

You might have mumbled something while I was in your mouth.

Was that what you were trying to say?

Listen up, everybody.

In case any of you were in any doubt, Vernon here is straight.

100% hetro!

Shut up. Or what?

(GRUNTS)

You shouldn't have done that.

ALL: (CHANTING) Fight! Fight! Fight!

(YELLING)

(GRUNTS) (CROWD EXCLAIMS)

How does it feel to get your arse kicked by a fairy?

(CROWD CHEERING)

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION)

(CHEERING CONTINUES)

(SIGHS)

Why can I only ever pull straight guys?

Because gay guys don't find you attractive.

They fucking do!

Gay men think you're too much.

(SIGHS)

You, petal, are what a straight man thinks a gay man looks like.

Why are you in my room?

I came to cheer you up!

(SIGHS)

Hmm.

(LAUGHING)

(LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY)

Dad… (GROANS)

I'll go boil a kettle or something.

(PANTING)

Very nice.

You're wet.

It's raining beer in the Black Lion.

What are you doing here?

I'm working nearby, promised your mammy

I'd drop in and see how you were getting on.

I called in to your office yesterday.

They invented a machine to replace me. You should get one.

Just drop the wise cracks for one minute, would you?

I'm not a friend.

I'll find something else.

When? I don't know.

Doing what? I don't know!

Christ, could you just lay off me?

I'm not hurting anyone!

Right, get your stuff together.

What? I'm taking you home.

You gave it your best shot, it didn't work out.

No shame in that.

This is my home! These are my friends!

I'm not going anywhere.

I just want you to have a plan.

Ah!

George, John. John, George.

All we need now is a Paul and a Ringo. (LAUGHS)

What do you think of the penis extension?

Lovely. Oh, circumcised too.

Oh.

Your nose grows when you're jealous.

Like Pinocchio with bad skin.

Are you ready, Peter?

He's still a work in progress.

I'll send you a postcard.

From where? (CAR DOOR CLOSES)

Scotland.

I think he owns a chunk of it.

What am I gonna do now?

If you get lonely, you could always resort

to a series of grubby one night stands.

Honey, you'll be fine.

I'll be back to visit.

Promise.

That's it, keep your chins up.

(ENGINE STARTS)

Oh, and I left a little something on your bed.

Enjoy it.

(HORN HONKING)

What am I supposed to be looking at?

It's me!

What have you all done?

Nothing.

I don't get it.

We're a fashion movement.

What are you called?

We don't have a name.

So I probably wouldn't have heard about you, then?

Here, Dee, listen to this, yeah.

He said he's a fashion movement

and so I said, "What are you called?"

And he said he doesn't have a name,

so I said, "I probably wouldn't have heard of you then, would I."

(LAUGHING)

That's funny.

Oh, I don't know.

Any news on the job front?

Yes and no.

Which?

I've heard about a job that's going.

So can you get an interview?

That isn't the problem.

Why do you want this job, Mr. O'Dowd?

I fucking don't.

In that case, you're hired.

(GRUNTS)

You're so hideous,

I don't want the public looking at you.

Chop-chop.

(POP MUSIC PLAYING)

Do you want me to check this, or cremate it?

Just give me my ticket!

Fuck off, Steve, I'm on a break.

His name's Kirk. He's a singer.

What does he sing about?

Diving into muff, for all I know.

He's straight. Very straight.

That's your problem, Steve.

No ambition.

Back to your hutch.

This country hasn't been engaged

in a proper land war for 35 years.

Don't you think we're due one?

And what are you, 20 years old?

Any war in the 1980s, and there will be one,

and you and me will be conscripted.

Be cool if they put us all in together.

We could be like the cross dressing regiment.

(LAUGHS)

Just suppose they do make us fight

who do you think it's going to be against?

I don't know, the Russians?

What's a Russian ever done to hurt you?

They have nuclear.

So do the Americans.

What makes you trust an American over a Russian?

Anyway, Maggie will save us.

(SPURTING) Thatcher's just Callaghan in a dress.

You should put that in a song.

Our fathers will be remembered

as the generation who skipped the wars.

That's why they fucking hate us.

That's what punk was really all about.

And that's why it ended the way it did.

As soon as they started labeling it, we killed it off.

And whatever we come up with next,

we'll kill that before they figure it out. (WOMAN LAUGHING)

My dad thinks wearing after shave makes men gay.

(LAUGHS)

Who are you talking to?

Myself. Obviously.

What was it like?

Now I remember.

Sort of grey, looked like something we buried my nan in.

Voila!

Where's the boyfriend tonight?

He went home.

Alone?

WOMAN: What's it to you?

You want to keep your eye on that one.

(SOFTLY) I reckon he's got a tendency to deceive.

(BANGS) Ow!

You're mental.

Slag.

It's very sweet of you to walk me home.

I'm a gentleman.

Are you sure your bike's going to be all right back there?

What bike?

Your motorbike.

Why would you think I have a motorbike?

Oh, I don't know, the helmet, the jacket…

My mate gave me a backy, dropped me off at the club.

Why, do you like bikers or something?

The ones who don't chase me

or threaten to kick my teeth in.

This is me.

Do you want to come and see us play sometime?

Only if you write a song about me.

(LAUGHS)

How are you getting home?

I don't know, bus.

They stopped running hours ago.

You can come in for a cuppa if you like.

You know I don't have sex with blokes, right?

I'm only offering tea.

(DOOR OPENS)

(POP SONG PLAYING)

I hope you like it weak.

You look like a girl.

Thank you.

(FIRE CRACKLING)

(FIRE CRACKLING)

What the hell are you doing, you crazy old bastard?

I'm killing him.

Killing who?

The freak they all like to gawp at.

The junkie that took over my son's body.

Well, it's a good thing insanity doesn't run in the family.

I received a Grammy in this!

Get a grip on yourself.

It's just a dress.

Wrong! It's an Issey Miyake!

But you're such a thick Irish lump

you wouldn't even know who he is.

How did you get in here?

Through a window.

One of the photographers gave me a leg up.

Nice to know they're good for something.

They're worried about you.

I don't know if you've noticed,

but there's a big fucking bounty on my head

and I'm not talking the chocolate variety.

Your fellow house breakers out there

are being paid to harass me!

One minute you're chasing them,

next they're chasing you.

Seems like a funny game, if you ask me.

You're wasting your time.

I flushed it all.

What I could find of it anyway.

I'm sure you've got another stash hidden away somewhere.

You've been watching too much Grange Hill.

(CLOCK CHIMING)

Is this my fault, all this?

Did I fuck up with you somehow?

You say that like there's something wrong with me.

Oh!

You just don't even see it, do you?

If you were happy…

Just go. Please, Dad, just go.

I came here to help.

What do you think you're capable of doing?

So far all you've done is aggravate my asthma.

Why won't you let me try?

Because I'm fine!

Stop reading the fucking red tops

for a day and look at me.

I'm your son. Look at me.

I am fine.

I don't even recognize you.

I should've brought some of the letters.

People who have been through similar problems

with their sons and daughters.

So reassuring to know I'm a cliche.

They're all worried about you, Georgie.

They grab your mammy and me in the shops

and tell us how they want to see you get better.

We got a phone call from Japan a couple of days back.

I didn't understand a word they were saying,

but it was obvious it was to do with you.

(EXCLAIMING)

"How Boy? How Boy?"

People you've never met before are praying for you.

I get sick and your mammy just sneers at me, but you…

You've no idea how many people love you.

Then why do I feel so hated?

(BELL RINGING)

(BELL TOLLING)

(HORN HONKING)

You're a girl.

If that's what you want.

Just say it.

I'm a girl.

Again.

I'm a girl.

I'm your girl.

(SOUL MUSIC PLAYING)

(LAUGHING)

Bloody hell.

Yeah, I love it.

Thank you.

(INAUDIBLE)

(ALL EXCLAIMING)

(ALL CHEERING)

Oh, wow.

Thank you.

♪ Sexuality ♪

What are you doing?

I think they call it singing.

That's your singing voice?

Why, what's wrong with it?

Nothing, it just… Doesn't suit the song.

Well, maybe I'll write a song that does suit my voice.

You?

(STRUMS GUITAR)

Write music? (LAUGHS)

(HUMMING TUNE)

(INSTRUMENTS TUNING)

Wait, wait, wait.

Pint of bitter, cheers.

All right, Jon.

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.

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 acquaintance.

O'Dowd. Irish?

Irish to the heels of my brogues.

Can I do a little jig for you, sir? (CHUCKLES)

So, what do you do, George?

Apart from take the piss.

I take care of Kirk's appearance.

I thought his mum was still dressing him.

He's moving out of home soon.

We'll probably get a place together.

Something nice in the suburbs.

Grow our own veg, skin our own goats.

All very Tom and Barbara.

(LAUGHS)

Kirk? He's as straight as I am.

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

(CAMERA CLICKS)

(RINGING TONE)

(RINGING TONE)

(RINGING TONE)

Jon? Are you there?

JON ON PHONE: What do you want?

Who are you doing?

It's the middle of the night

and I'm not in the fucking mood for this.

Well, maybe I'm in the mood!

So maybe you should make the fucking 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, 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.

You'll let me know how it goes, won't you?

Go to bed, George.

Who are you with?

What does it matter?

Just answer the fucking question.

I'm not with anyone. I'm on my own, trying to sleep.

Liar!

What do you want to 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 want to hear?

What do you want to hear?

I want to hear…

I want to hear you say…

(INHALES DEEPLY) Repeat after me.

"I'm a talentless dwarf Jew

"and I've made a pile of money riding on your coat tails."

Go fuck yourself, George.

(DISCONNECTS CALL)

(YELLS)

REPORTER: George! George! George!

(REPORTERS CLAMORING) (CAMERAS CLICKING)

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,

catch a poser by the toe.

If he hollers, let him go.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

Go on, before I change my mind. (SIGHS)

You'd better be fucking important

to be parking on my yellow line.

(ELECTRONICA MUSIC PLAYING)

Sir…

(EXCLAIMS)

(ALL SCREAMING IN EXCITEMENT)

He's looking for dancers for a video!

Who? Bowie!

I've gone fishing!

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 secret, though.

David's asked me to pick two other dancers.

People I think will compliment the look of his new video.

So, if you'll excuse me, that's what I'm going to do.

Better luck next time!

GEORGE: First he steals my look, then he steals my career.

I was into Bowie before Steve Strange cultivated his first pube!

It's not fair!

Are you even listening to me?

Should my face be on this?

A bit of color wouldn't go amiss.

Bollocks to it. Bowie's loss is your gain.

You're going to sell millions

and then I can finally tell my parents

what I'm going to do with the rest of my life.

What's that?

Help you spend your money, of course.

That is still the plan, isn't it?

Yeah, yeah, 'course.

(ELECTRONICA MUSIC PLAYING)

(RINGING TONE)

(GEORGE PANTING)

Hello.

Can I speak with Kirk, please?

(COIN CLINKING)

Don't do this to me, not on the phone!

You say it to my face.

Say it to my fucking face, you coward!

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

(BANGING ON DOOR)

What are you doing here, you silly tosser?

Have you got something to say to me?

WOMAN: Who is it?

It's for me, Mum.

You came all this way to make a scene?

I'd walk further than this.

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 on the street?

WOMAN: Ah, bless…

His little heart's broken.

He'll get over it.

Kirk… (SHUSHES)

I made fucking onion rings for you.

You have no idea how much I've cried.

I was hoping you would just take the hint.

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.

It's just fucking around. You know?

Experimenting. None of it's real.

It's like how it got with punk.

Oh, God, will you just shut up about punk!

Punk is gone, forget about punk.

That's what I'm saying.

Punk's gone and I don't know what's next.

It's all changing. Haven't you noticed?

Everyone's looking more like you and less like me.

I'd give anything to look like you.

I've been trying to keep up.

I've been pretending that I'm something I'm not.

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

Whoever the bitch is,

I hope she knows how lucky she is.

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

(SOBBING)

(HORN HONKING)

Yeah, well, at least my mother knows

how to make Yorkshire Pudding, you scrittled dick.

(TIRES SCREECHING)

I never want to see you again.

Come on, Cinders…

(SOBBING)

I said no, David.

(ALL LAUGHING)

The travel was first class.

The beach, the most beautiful beach I've ever been to.

(CONTINUES SPEAKING)

Ten seconds in a Bowie video

and he thinks he's Liz Taylor.

He thought they'd be filming it in Barbados,

they ended up in Southend.

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.

(SCOFFS) I thought these were song lyrics.

That's what poetry is, you spaz.

(LAUGHS)

You should learn an instrument.

Guitars look butch, drums make you sweat,

and no one even notices the keyboard player.

No. I'm a solo artist.

(DANCE MUSIC PLAYING)

RUSTY: All right, George.

Steve and me wanted a quick word.

Here he is.

I'll see you next Tuesday.

STEVE: Sit down, Rusty.

I don't want to be involved in this.

Well, you are involved, so sit.

GEORGE: Who died?

Empty your pockets, George.

Why?

Because we're your employers,

and we're telling you to.

You're making a big mistake.

And the bag.

Happy now?

We owe you an apology.

Too fucking right you do.

You wouldn't try that shit if I was in NUCA.

What's NUCA?

National Union of Cloakroom Attendants.

I'm starting it tomorrow.

George…

What now?

I'd just like to say that I'm really, really sorry.

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 hours ago, I was just seeing out the end of my shift.

Well, you didn't mention it to me or Rusty,

so it doesn't count.

It counts. Me and Martin are talking about starting a band.

(SCOFFS) Martin fucking Degville?

If that man ever records a note of music

I'll burn my record player.

I quit.

No, you're fired. Quit.

Can we just agree that you no longer work here?

Fired! Quit!

Fired! Quit!

He's fired!

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION OVER POLICE RADIO)

Bye.

(EXCLAIMS)

(SIGHS)

(GRUNTING)

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

REPORTER: He's up there.

(CAMERAS CLICKING)

(DOG GROWLING)

Nice night for it.

(BARKS) I'm sorry, love.

(BANGING ON DOOR)

STEVE: Who is it?

It's George.

Whoa, whoa! I never said you can come in.

Don't play silly buggers with me.

Where's the drugs?

(INHALING)

(HEAVY METAL MUSIC PLAYING)

(TRIMMER WHIRRING)

You're Malcolm McLaren.

(SCOFFS) So much for the new look.

What are you?

I'm a singer.

Come on, son. No, no.

Leave him. He's a singer,

we should let him sing.

In your own time.

What do you want to hear?

Whatever pops into your deluded little head.

♪ All things bright ♪ ♪ and beautiful ♪

♪ All creatures great ♪ ♪ and small ♪

♪ All things wise ♪ ♪ and wonderful… ♪

You plucked up all that courage,

came all this way, just to sing a Sunday School hymn?

It was just in my head.

(WHISPERS) Do you hear that?

That is the sound of no one applauding.

Get used to it.

I want to be famous.

Famous for what?

Thirty-five years should just about do it.

(LAUGHS)

Since you force me to look for a positive,

you have an interesting exterior.

You should see me when I make an effort.

(OPERA PLAYING)

(DOORBELL RINGING)

(DOOR BUZZES OPEN)

MALCOLM: Up here.

Take your shoes off.

No, no, no, down here.

And for God's sake put your shoes on!

MALCOLM: How wonderful.

Notorious for doing nothing.

Only now I think it's time I actually did something.

Why fuck with a winning formula?

Did you tell me your name already?

Three times, Mr. McLaren. It's George.

How horribly forgettable. We should change it.

To what?

I've just written a song about a pilot called Lieutenant Lush.

Do I get to record this song?

As it's named after me.

It's for a little group I put together called Bow Wow Wow Wow.

I thought there were just two "Wows".

I've been thinking about extending it.

That's a brilliant idea!

Don't kiss my arse, George.

Please. Call me Lush.

I have little interest in the music industry.

I sell clothes.

In order to sell anything you have to advertise it.

That's why I put The Pistols together.

If I were to form a real band

that would take a great deal of time and effort,

neither of which I have.

So, when I look at you,

what do you think I ask myself?

"How do I spell his name on a check?" (LAUGHS)

Can you wear what I tell you to wear,

and convince others to copy you?

I'm your mannequin, Mr. McLaren.

(GLASS SHATTERING)

I'm having a new house delivered.

They're sending it one bit at a time.

(PUNK ROCK SONG PLAYING)

(DOOR OPENS)

Did I miss the band meeting?

Well, they came early.

They didn't mention it.

There's no easy way to say this.

They don't like you.

Oh.

They want you out.

I hope you told them where to go.

Of course I did.

Which is why

they are off on tour without you.

Enjoy the rest of your life.

MARILYN: They're shit anyway.

Adam and the Ants with bongos.

You know who you want to be?

Who do I want to be?

Shakin' Stevens.

Trust me, I don't want to be Shakin' Stevens.

I'd give anything to be Shaky.

Kids love him, grannies love him.

He's number one every pissing Tuesday

and no one's even bothering to copy it.

I don't think there's enough room

for two people to dance on Elvis's grave.

Anyway, fuck music, I'm going to be an actor.

You're Lieutenant Lush.

"Leftenant" Lush. That's what I said.

No, you said Lieutenant. As in Columbo.

Anyway, I'm not him. Lush is dead.

A life cut tragically short.

But it means nothing to me.

I'm in the music business, too.

Yeah, I thought I'd seen you working in Our Price.

What do you do?

(SCATTING)

(CLEARS THROAT)

I'm starting a band if you're interested.

I hope you've got more instruments than that.

(LAUGHS)

You're funny. (LAUGHS)

Well, that's good enough for me, I'm in.

(LAUGHING)

STEVE: They're selling pirate shirts in Topshop.

What?

I said they're selling pirate shirts in fucking Topshop.

I walk down the street and people don't even throw stuff at me anymore.

What does that mean?

We're dead. Officially naff.

Doomed to walk the forgotten land

with John Lydon and Les Mc-fucking-Keown.

Who?

Bay City Rollers.

God, they were huge.

You either made it onto the Live Aid bill

or you picked up your P45.

(GRUNTS)

I was busy that day.

You still have a recording contract?

I quit the band.

Or I was fired.

Go it alone.

My grandmother couldn't pick the others out of a line-up.

And what exactly would Granny Strange know about it?

Who do you think used to buy your records?

It wasn't just fat teenage girls unable to get boyfriends.

My granny fucking loved you.

"Stevie, why can't you be more like that Boy George?"

"He's a lying, thieving, heroin snorting bender", I'd tell her,

but she wouldn't hear a word of it.

Thought you were as pure as the driven snow.

That was Jon's doing.

You two still together?

I think he wishes I was dead.

This could be his lucky night.

What are these, pornos?

I don't watch them, I just deliver them.

I'm George, in case you forgot.

Everyone knows who you are.

Flattering…

Kirk's fat Irish faggot.

I'm just fucking with you.

How's things?

I'm in a band. The Sex Gang Children.

You're not going to get much air play with a name like that.

We might be looking for a drummer.

Is that right? Mmm.

JON: One, two, three, four.

(PUNK ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

Sorry, sorry, can we start again?

(FEEDBACK)

One, two, three, four.

(PUNK ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

♪ Black boys, ♪ ♪ employ Selassie ♪

♪ We kiss, ♪ ♪ we define ♪

♪ White hands, ♪ ♪ white hearts ♪

♪ The gender ♪

♪ How can I ♪ ♪ make you mine ♪

(ALL LAUGHING)

Here we go, grubs up.

What sort of influences have you all got?

Punk.

Reggae.

Motown.

Soul.

Pop.

Throw in a bit of skiffle and you've got the full house.

Any ketchup, Mrs. C?

Were you in The Damned?

For a bit.

What's Captain Sensible like?

His feet smell.

(ALL LAUGHING)

So what do you think?

Honestly? I think Mikey's mum

makes a mean fish finger sandwich.

I'm serious.

Oh, you're "serious", are you?

We're going to be huge.

Not unless you replace your lead guitar.

We only just found him.

There's more to this shit than wearing the right frock.

You think I can't sing?

Did I say that?

You never said I could.

You're a needy bastard, aren't you?

More than you'll ever know.

Your voice is okay.

There's a bit of soul there.

When the words come out, I sort of believe you mean them.

That's a compliment, isn't it?

It's the best you're going to get for now.

So are we doing this, or what?

(GUITAR TUNING)

GEORGE: No Jon? Lazy prick.

Don't panic, Mr. Mannering.

Let's get on with this, shall we?

Are you seriously going to sing this?

(CHUCKLING)

"The eyes of Medusa, control and compel

"To love I surrender, I'm under the spell

"He loves me, he hates me

"He knows me too well"

It's no Shaddap You Face.

It says "he."

"He loves me, he hates me"

Medusa was a bird. Snaky hair.

Definitely not a geezer.

Not my Medusa.

Yeah, well, it's three against one,

so let's rehearse it with "she."

What have we got here?

A Jew, a Jamaican, a hairdresser and a poof.

Nothing can stop a line-up like that.

But if you want to write songs

that only appeal to half a dozen people, do it in your own time.

I thought we were aiming a bit higher than that.

We can't all pretend to be something we're not.

I'm not asking you to pretend anything.

Just don't elaborate on certain stuff.

Always leave them wanting more.

Walt Disney said that.

And he did all right for himself.

(SNIFFLES)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR) George, are you in there?

JON: George?

What happened to you?

The bitch went for me.

(GROANS)

She reckons I spend more time with you than I do with her.

We'll give her a triangle and stick her in the band,

then she can see you day and night.

She's jealous.

Of what?

Of you, you muppet.

She thinks I fancy you.

(LAUGHS)

Don't make me look a prat.

You have no idea what you're doing.

But that's good, that's fine.

(ROCK SONG PLAYING)

(SNIFFLING)

(TIRES SCREECHING)

(CAR CRASHING)

JON: Well, it ain't exactly a Rolls Royce in a swimming pool,

but I guess it'll have to do.

Oh!

(BOTH GRUNTING)

I'm calling the police!

No! Just… Just go back inside.

He's a bloody head case!

Are you going to let your brass talk to me like that?

Emily, get back inside!

George, shut the fuck up!

You're crushing my ribs. Good.

I'm going to vomit. Seriously.

(RETCHING)

What is that? Twenty-six all?

I've had you more than you've had me.

(PUNK ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION)

(GRUNTING)

(YELLING INDISTINCTLY)

GEORGE: I'm going to prison, aren't I?

JON: You're not going to prison.

I won't survive in a place like that.

No one is going to prison.

Don't you watch the news?

Norman Tebbit wants to lock me up and throw away the key!

Shouldn't have fucking voted for them then, should you?

What's his beef, anyway?

You're a rock and roll stereotype.

We've been exporting them for years.

What have I done that's so evil?

You got a little older.

A little less cute.

It's like Bowie.

Bowie?

You think he didn't go through this shit?

He killed Ziggy. He didn't know where to go next.

He put out Station to Station

and everyone thought that was the end.

But what happens after that?

He finds his way to Berlin and records Low.

I loved Low.

That's where you are right now.

You're somewhere between Station to Station and Low.

It's a transition.

It hurts.

It's going to hurt for a while longer.

(SIGHS) What am I going to do, Jon?

Get yourself well.

Then give them something else to talk about.

I'll buy you some new fish.

Damn right you will.

(CROWD SCREAMING)

(ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC PLAYING)

(ALL SCREAMING)

I think I've got diarrhea.

If you shit yourself, just carry on.

Is he going to do this, or not?

Of course he's doing it. (DOOR OPENS)

Culture Club, last call.

Whatever it takes, get him out of that car.

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

(MAN ANNOUNCING)

(MAN INSTRUCTING)

(CROWD CHEERING)

♪ Give me time ♪

♪ To realize my crime ♪

♪ Let me love ♪ ♪ and steal ♪

♪ I have danced ♪

♪ Inside your eyes ♪

(CAMERAS CLICKING)

(REPORTERS CLAMORING)

♪ How can I be real ♪

♪ Do you really want ♪ ♪ to hurt me ♪

♪ Do you really want ♪ ♪ to make me cry ♪

♪ Precious kisses words ♪ ♪ that burn me ♪

♪ Lovers never ♪ ♪ ask you why ♪

♪ In my heart ♪ ♪ the fire's burning ♪

♪ Choose my color ♪ ♪ find a star ♪

♪ Precious people ♪ ♪ always tell me ♪

♪ That's a step ♪ ♪ a step too far ♪

♪ Do you really want ♪ ♪ to hurt me ♪

♪ Do you really want ♪ ♪ to make me cry ♪

(CROWD CHEERING)