Killing Bono (2011)

IMDb: 6.4 Two brothers attempt to become global rock stars but can only look on as old school friends U2 become the biggest band in the world.
Stars: Ben Barnes, Robert Sheehan, Krysten Ritter

I always knew I’d be famous.
Back at school, if you’d have told me that four of us…

would become the biggest rock band on the planet,
I’d have asked who the other three were.

I know what you’re thinking.
Everyone wants to be a rock star, right?

Well, this wasn’t some vague dream, this was real.
I had it all planned out.
Form a band.

Release a series of ground-breaking albums.
Tour the world’s greatest stadiums.

Pull off the biggest rock and roll invasion of America since the Beatles.
This life that I had going on inside my head.
It wasn’t my life at all.
It never was. It was his.

He rises, I fall.
He just gets bigger and better.

I suck up all the shite luck that never goes his way.
Hey, is that the… It is!
No!
Get out of the way. You out of the way, now there. Go on.
I always knew I’d be famous.
What you brought that thing in for? You’ll have someone’s eye out with that.
– I’ve got a lesson with Mr. Rowland. – What, that fogey old fart?

What’s he gonna teach you, a punk rock version of “Danny Boy”?
Yeah, maybe.

Hey, Paul. Paul, what’s the craic?
Larry’s putting a band together.

Oh, great.
– Who is Larry? – Larry Mullen, two years below.

– Oh, nice axe, man. – Oh, cheers.
Yeah, he saved all his pocket money for three years,

– he’s so rock and roll, aren’t ya? – Oh, yeah.
You should come and try out.

– Hey, they need a singer. – You’re looking at him.
You? It’s bad enough having to stand next to you in choir practice

singing like you’ve lost a bollock.
Besides, you… you really don’t much look like a front man, you know?

Oh, yeah? What’s a front man look like?
Yeah?

– Like me! – Oh.
Sorry, Neil. Nice try. But it’s my gig.

There’s plenty more bands out there.
See you on Top of the Pops, boys.
– G’s my favourite key. – Oh, sorry, yeah.
Oh, Jesus, lads. Make some space. Mick Jagger didn’t have to deal

with a bass in his face and a drum kit up his arse.
Made it myself. I got the design from a mag.

What, was it a bird spotting mag, was it?
It looks like a duck with a stick up its arse.

Do you really need a guitar as well? You know you can’t play it.
You can talk.

Jesus Christ, can nobody play their instruments here?
Will you relax, Larry? We’ve got Dave.

Give us a shot at yours, then. I’ll show you what it can do.
– Yeah, OK. Here. – Just for…

OK. One, two. One, two. One, two.
OK, come on, guys. Come on. Can we just play something together?

– You know, at the same time, all right? – OK, right. Whoa, whoa.
What do we know?

Um…
Do we know anything? David Bowie, yeah?

– Yeah. – Anyone heard the Ramones?
– Yeah, was that… – The Clash?

Or how about Thin Lizzy? Thin Lizzy?
– Yeah, yeah. – Sex Pistols and Dire Straits.

OK, just forget I said that.
Right, lads, fuck it. I’ve got it, right?

That’s Iggy. I know that. That’s Iggy. Let’s do it, OK?
One, two. One, two, three, four.

Gimme some skin Try to give me some skin
Whoo!
Yeah!
My girlfriend, she got soul Sucks all night on Lord Asshole

She puts me right up her ass She shoots speed, she smokes grass
But I don’t mind

If your mind is gone If you want my body
Come on, baby Now give me some skin

Two chips, please.
Man, she was definitely eyeing you up.

Every girl in school is acting like you’re made out of Mars bars.
That’s band life for you, man.

Well, dip me in rock and roll and throw me to the girls.
How’s it going, anyway?
Apart from becoming an overnight fanny magnet.

It’s going great, you know? I can finally see it all coming together.
We want Ivan.
What?
We want your brother on rhythm guitar.

Well, you can’t have him. On rhythm guitar or anywhere.
He’s with me. Ivan’s the lead guitar and I head up the band.

– You’ve got a band? – Yeah.
What are you called?

What are we called? We’re… we’re called The, uh…
…Undertakers. – The, Uh, Undertakers?

Yes.
Well, good on yous.

– You’ve certainly got the mouth for it. – Fuck off.
And I can see your face on the posters.

Yeah, you too. That’s if the teeny boppers go in
for that mop-haired, leaping gnome sort of thing.

Listen, so I just tell Ivan straight he didn’t get in, yeah?
No, no. Leave it with me.

He’s my brother.
You don’t have to say a word, OK?
Yeah.

Yeah, sure.
Listen…
…we’re doing a gig next month. Maybe you boys should support us?

Maybe you should support us.
Maybe we should support each other. Equal billing. Shoulder to shoulder.

– Your band and mine, brother. – Taking on the world together!
So, have yous got a name yet? What about the McCormick Brothers?
That’s not very punk, is it, Dad? We’d sound like a folk band.

We’d have to grow beards and live in a commune.
We’re called The Undertakers, Mr. McCormick.

Yeah, Frankie is Frankie Corpse. Ivan, is Ivan Axe.
I’m Eric Cadaver.

No. You’re still Hopeless Eric.
And Kev over there is Kevin Carcass.

I wanted to be called Jonny Durex, but I was afraid it’d upset me ma.
She’s gotta know what a Durex is, son, or you wouldn’t be here.

– What’s a Durex? – I’ll tell you later.
Six years later.

You’ll be needing punk hair-dos.
I’ll do them for you. No point in wasting money at the barbers.

Yeah, but we can do without all that swearing… and the vomit.
We’ve our first gig next week. It’s with Paul’s lot, they’re called The Hype.
Oh, yeah, the band I almost joined.

Next week, we’ll blow them off the stage.
And then you’ll be glad you stuck with your big brother.

It’s lovely to see the two of you working together.
It’s just a different sound.
Yeah, yeah. It’s a whole new quality, it’s great.

Hey, lads. What’s going on?
Oh, Paul was just talking to me about second guitar.

Was he?
And what was he saying?
We decided we don’t need one, so…
– No hard feelings, hey, Ivan? – No, you’re grand.

Course not. He plays lead for The Undertakers now.
Never mind second guitar.

Why are we second billing?
Hey? You said we’d be equal.

Well, we’re both on the banner. The Hype and The Undertakers.
– Are we? – Well, look at it this way.

It gives you a chance to steal our thunder.
– That’s Neil McCormick? – Yeah, that’s him there.
OK, guys, you’re the support act, right?

So, four songs, then clear the way for the headliners.
What? Who put him in charge? Who’s that? Who are you?

Oh, this is Paul McGuinness, our manager.
Look, man, I’ve gotta go and do a sound check here, yeah?

One, two. One, two. One, two. Check.
Yous look like you’re bricking it.

– All right, Plugger? – Fifty P a pop, right?
Purple ones are uppers. Green ones are downers.

I don’t know what the white ones are for,
but you shouldn’t take them with alcohol.

What are you, Plugger? Their dealer?
– I just get paid to hump the gear. – One, two. One, two. One, two.

– Well, a manager and a roadie! – Check. One, two.
One, two. One, two. One, two. Perfect.

Oh!
Why don’t you ask them
What they expect from you?

Why don’t you tell them
What you are gonna do

You get so lonely
Maybe it’s better that way

It ain’t you only
You got something to say
Do anything you wanna do
Come on
Do anything you wanna do

And I’m promising nothing
I’m just living a smile

I casually arrange it
I walk tall Walk in the wild wind

I live an image of plastic and gold
Some say maybe tomorrow

A resurrection, hello I know, know, know
Well, I know, know, know Well, I know, know, know

They’re sounding tight, man. Their drummer can actually drum.
– They’re even playing their own stuff. – Huh?

I said they’re playing their own stuff.
Well, we can write our own songs too.

Plus, we’ll have something that they’ll never have.
Brotherhood. Neil and Ivan McCormick.

Well, Ivan and Neil. It’s alphabetical like Lennon and McCartney.
Bollocks.

– I’m older, I’m going first. – Whoo!
Oh!
I need something

I need someone
I’ve got you

Street mission
Street mission

Street mission
Good night!
You big riot, ya.
Neil McCormick here with home-grown rock sensations The Hype,

still sweaty from a blistering live show.
So, boys, tell us. Where do you see The Hype in say five years time?

Five years? The Hype’ll be history.
– What? – What?

What?
Why? You boys were fucking amazing tonight.

You said that this was what you wanted to do forever, like.
– Yeah. – It is.

So we’re changing our names to something good.
Oh?

You’re looking at U2.
U2?
U2?

That is so…
…shite!

Thank you, Neil. I didn’t want to say it.
It sounds like a bleeding submarine.

– And we’re changing our names. – What?
Dave wants to be known as The Edge.

What, like, Edge Evans or Dave Edge?
Just The Edge.

The edge of what?
And from now on, he’s Bono.

– Bono? – Bono!
Bono?

Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s good. I could be… Biro.
– I could be The Hedge. – Stop taking the piss.

At least I’m not the one jumping up and down on stage wearing these.
– Would you look at the state of him? – Hey, hey, hey, hey.

You fucking poser.
He likes ‘em. He likes ‘em.

Dreams are making a mess of me
They say I’m like a ghost but they don’t understand

I’m the haunted not the haunting
I need to get some peace

I’m walking in my sleep
If I’m honest, Neil, I don’t get half the stuff you sing about.

Your lyrics are a bit weird, Neil.
Well, next you’ll be telling me that Bob Dylan’s weird.

Is Bob Dylan weird, is he? Or Leonard Cohen?
– Yeah. – Yeah, very weird.
Ah, nice of you to swing by. Who needs a lead guitar anyway?
Check this out.

– What the fuck? – Look at it.
– It’s really real. – Just watch the corners.

It’s really happening for the boys.
– Oh, my God. – Take it easy with it.

Yeah, but Rolling Stone magazine reckons it’s pretty mediocre.
Oh, man. This could have been my first album.

In your dreams, man.
No, I was nearly in the band.

No, you weren’t. You stood in Larry’s kitchen once.
That’s his great claim to fame.

Well, at least I auditioned for them, Neil. That’s more than you ever did.
Where’d you get this anyway?

– Oh, I bumped into Bono. – What?
Down at The Vinyl Frontier.

– I played him our demo. – Great.
So now he’ll pinch all my lyrics for his next album, will he?

He reckons he can get us signed.
– Signed? – Signed, signed.

– What? – Yes!
We can get out of this bleeding garage, boys.

And you wanna follow in their footsteps?
No. We are not playing catch up with U2.

Not now. Not ever.
We’ll do this our own way. And we will get our own deal.

Well, hang on. I don’t see that happening here, Neil.
Yeah, well, I can make it happen.

Yeah, when? Where are you going?
I just told you. To make it happen.

Jesus.
Jesus, it’s the U2 fucking fanzine in full effect.
– Do you want a Bono pin-badge? – Do I bollocks?

Well, would you look at that, Maureen?
A rare sighting of our most elusive scribe, hmm?

How’s the work allergy?
Hey, Niall, don’t come all proddy work ethic with me.

I’m not the one pretending to be disabled.
Hey. The insurance pay-out on this little baby pays your wages.

So where have you been, Lord Byron? Fannying about penning poetry again?
Actually, I’ve been in the studio, yeah? Laying down some new tracks.

Besides, I’ve already filed my article for this week.
Yeah, but it was meant for last week.

Lucky you can write, that’s all I can say, hmm?
“In his search for the singular identity in the landscape of the bland,

Adam Ant has somehow evolved into a post-punk,
Dick Turpin with a pirate fetish”.

I like that. “Landscape of the bland”.
Yeah, well, I thought it preferable to “a sea of shit”.

Are you giving it the cover?
No, I think Ireland’s hottest band just pushed it out.

What? Gary’s U2 piece?
It’s only Gary’s U2 piece ’cause you turned it down.

You picky bastard.
Thanks, I am standing right here, you know?

Yeah, and I didn’t want to give it to a rookie.
– Yeah. – Well, it’s weird, but I…

It’s weird, but I didn’t really much fancy
talking to my old school mates about how brilliantly amazing they are

and how much hot sex they’re getting, you know?
Yeah, there’s a little bit more to it than that.

Yeah, I bet. “U2 are brill. And hasn’t Bono got lovely hair.
And he’s dead good at singing and that”.

You’re just jealous ’cause no one writes about your poxy band.
Oh, really?

Ah, Jesus. Neil, not more fucking demo tapes.
You’ve already carpet-bombed every poor bugger in my address book.

That’s not true, actually. I’ve only gone up to P.
Look, look.

I know the owner of a place in town, and I could get you a slot if…
If you cover the Horse Slips gig for me. Quid pro quo.
No way. Their singer still wants to murder me after that last piece I wrote.

Where’s the venue?
– McGarrety’s. – Fuck off!

– Fuck off! – I hope you said yes.
Of course I said yes, it’s McGarrety’s. Legends are born in the place.

– When is this? – Next Saturday.
Hold on. That’s the day the Pope is in town.

– I’m sorry? – The Pope?
Wears a big popey hat. Drives a popemobile. He’s the Pope.

Who’s gonna go and see the Pope? It’s only the Pope.
– It’s not like it’s anyone good. – I’m going.

I’m an altar boy.
Fuck off!

Eric, who do you wanna be in ten years time, eh?
Keith Moon? Rocking out with the biggest band in the world?

Neck deep in girls and booze and drugs, yeah?
Or a piss-poor, 30 year old altar boy,

who sits in at the weekend and pulls his winky?
Didn’t Keith Moon die?

Listen, Eric…
I am asking you to make a choice.

It’s me or God.
I can’t believe the Pope fucked our band.
I never liked him. He has no appreciation of the live music scene.

And not a single person here.
Bugger me. The McCormick’s?

Yous great pair of arse bandits.
What are you doing here, Plugger?

Me boss, Danny Machin, runs security here.
I keep the eejits in line.

Well, when they show up I do.
What? Danny Machin the criminal?

He prefers enpreteneur.
He doesn’t mind if I deal a bit of gear on the side, you know?
So, if you want anything. Coke, acid, weed, I’m your man.

No, you’re all right, Plugger, but…
It’s good to see you’ve done well for yourself.

And those tossers at Mount Temple said I’d never amount to shite.
What about Bono and the lads, yeah?

– Away to the big time. – Yeah.
We should have stuck with them, we’d be getting a ride every night.

Hey.
Hasn’t your man, Machin, got a venue or two of his own?

No, Neil. He’ll cut off our balls.
Could you put in a word for us, Plugger?

You know, maybe get us a gig for old time’s sake?
Sure.

Leave it with me, lads. I know just the place.
I don’t like this. I’ve never been this far out of Dublin before.
Sleep keeps playing tricks on me
Dragging out the day while I’m waiting for the night

Darkness got a fix on me
Playing with the silence I’m trying to keep it quiet

Shake your dreams from your hair
When the break up comes you’re going to be nowhere

And I’ll meet you there
When the circle’s complete I’ll take you walking in my sleep

In my sleep
– I’m walking in my sleep – Walking in my sleep

– I’m walking in my sleep – Walking in my sleep
Wake up
Ow!
– Thank you. – Thanks very much.
What a crowd. You guys were great.
God almighty. Oh.

How are you? Can I have a whiskey, please?
– Whiskey. Thanks. – Ah!

Man, what a buzz. That was great.
That was shite. We died on our arses up there.

Maybe you would have noticed if you weren’t having some kind of fit.
– What was that? – My moves.

Plus I got us our first headline gig.
Yeah, in an illegal titty bar, in the arse end of nowhere,

run by a known killer.
This is Mr. Machin, lads.

What’d you think, Mr. Machin?
Godless, mindless and tuneless.

Still, you had the girls going.
I’m surprised you could hear anything at all. The sound is shite in here.

You really want to get yourself a better system if you want decent bands to play.
Yeah, well, when I find a decent band, maybe I will.
Neil, we’ll go. Shall we?

Come upstairs if you want your cut. Just the cocky fucker.
The skinny one with the stupid haircut can piss off.

He means you, Ivan.
Stay here.
– Hi. – How’s it heading? How’re you going?
Fine.

You don’t take your baths in here, do you?
No. That’s for people who annoy me.

You know, not many people talk to me like you did back there.
There’s always been that connection, between gangsters and celebrities.

Oh, you’re a gangster, are you?
‘Cause you’re sure not a fucking celebrity.

It’s only a matter of time.
I don’t suppose you know anyone
looking to invest in an incredible new band?

Why, do you know an incredible new band?
Come on, you saw us play. We just had the wrong crowd tonight.

But with the right crowd and the right backer we can…
You know, when my girls go on their break,

they usually duck out the back for a fag and a go at the crossword.
Tonight, they were clocking you.

– Tea, Plug. – Well, there you go.
There’s money to be made in music.

Money that doesn’t involve someone getting buried.
I mean, look at U2.
I bet you wish you’d got in there before the lawyers had them all sewn up,

and we’re gonna be bigger than them.
Yeah, you’re better looking than Bono. I’ll give you that.
Thanks.

But the… the question is, do you want in?
– Five grand. – Ten would be more realistic.

I could do ten.
My ten buys me twenty-five per cent.

You don’t get twenty-five per cent of me that easy.
Is this my negotiating face?

OK, ten. And a ticket to London.
I’ll give you two tickets. One for you and one for the skinny fucker.

And remember. If you fuck with me…
…I will kill you.
OK, everyone your attention, please. Wake up!
I’ve an important announcement to make.

I am quitting.
I’m off to London to become world famous.
Oh.

Oh, come on now.
Don’t cry.

She’s not crying over you, you great fucking eejit.
What?
What’s happened? Who’s done this?
Some sad… loner psycho.

That’s how you become famous fast, hmm?
Pull a trigger.

Remember listening to dad’s scratchy old copy of Abbey Road?
Yeah.

– First songs you ever learnt to play. – Yeah.
It just makes you wanna pack it all in.
No. It makes you realise how short life is.

I’m sick of waiting around for shit to happen. I just…
It won’t unless we make it.
How?
We get out.

We move to London.
What?

Where did all this come from, Neil?
Give me one good reason why not?

Because we’re broke.
I’ve enough to cover us until we’re in London, signed and earning.

I filed a lot of articles with Hot Press.
OK, well. I’ve got a girlfriend.

Well, they do have girls in London.
– Apparently. – OK, look.

What about Bono’s offer of a deal?
Are you just gonna walk away from that?

If Bono thinks we’re great, we don’t need him.
Oh, that makes loads of sense, Neil.

We go straight to the source. To the majors. Atlantic. Columbia.
The McCormick brothers together.

Yeah, just… just fucking hang on here a moment.
Look, you’re asking me to rip all this up and start again

just ’cause you say so, when, you know, we’re doing OK here.
– OK? OK, shite. – Yeah.

There’s one for the tombstone, isn’t there?
“Here lies Ivan, he was OK”.

If you stay here, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what if?
And then, you will always be a ninety-nine per center.
What?
What the fuck is that? You just made that up.

No. www.DHIYAFARIS.com
The bands who never make it. The rock and roll graveyard.

Either you break on through or you add your bones to the pile.
Yes, I am asking you to rip it all up and start again.

Trust me, kid.
The world doesn’t know it yet…

…but the next big thing
is lurking in an Irish backwater.

– Hey, here it is. Come on. – OK, OK.
– Here. – Hey, how’s the hair?
Yeah. Yeah, cool.

But some kind of loving lasts forever
– Some kind of loving – Turns to some kind of hatred

– Some kind of loving – It gets you sooner or later
– Some kind of loving – Locks your heart behind a brick wall

– Some kind of loving – Is no kind of love at all
See, pop songs are usually about

fantasising about having sex with hot women,
actually having sex with hot women,

or reminiscing about having sex with hot women.
This one appears to be about rape.
On one level, yes.
But on another, it’s about existential angst.

Mmm. Right, well, either way that’s a pretty hard sell
for Top of the Pops, but I’m sure we can sort that out later.

So, you do want to sign us, then? Do you?
Well, that depends.

See, the music industry is a very fickle business.
It’s like a harem filled with beautiful people

all fucking each other’s brains out.
But outside there are thousands of ugly, talentless lepers

all clawing their way in, trying to get a piece of the action.
Which one are you?
Um…

The beautiful people.
Do you want in to the harem?
Yes, please. Yes, I do. I do.

Well, OK then.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
And try and write a song that doesn’t have kids
reaching for their dictionaries.

And also, steer clear of the whole rape area.
It’s a bad area.

And… and The McCormick Brothers. Change your name.
You sound like a fucking folk act. Now get out.

Arrange an appointment. We’ll come back and squiggle a contract next time.
Go!

What?!
Well… I did say it would be easy in London.
That wasn’t easy, that was a big fat piece of easy…

peasy fucking lemon squeezy cake,
given away free, with today’s Easy Times.

Come here, you beauty! We just got signed.
– We got signed. – Yes!

You’ll need to know my rules, of course.
No drugs.

Unless, of course, shared with the landlord to supplement the rent.
Mmm.
And no outlawed sexual practices.

Unless ditto the above.
– Wow. – Yeah, cosy.
Perfect for band practise though.

Ah. Budding rock stars. I might have known.
I’ve shot a lot of pretty boys like you.
Is that legal in this country?

In between my fashion work.
– Oh, you’re a photographer. – Was. Now I’m just growing old.

Disgracefully. Pickling myself for posterity.
One party at a time. Oh, if you do take the place, by the way,

you’ll have to get used to my parties.
Tell me…
…how long have you two been together?

Well, they’ve been together for about four years, now.
– They formed at school, so… – Not U2, you idiot.

Us two. We…
We’ve… we’ve been together since we were boys, Karl.

– Yeah, that is a long time. – Yeah, well, obviously. We are…
Ivan? Band meeting. Now.

I want it, it’s incredible. Think what we could do with this place.
There’s no furniture. It’s a fucking factory.

Plus, I think he’s weird. Plus, I think he wants to stick his thing in me.
– Exactly. – What?
He is looking for a certain type of tenant.

I can feel a deal here. All we have to do…
Is what? Is be his rent boy, and he’ll drop the rent? No, Neil.

Seriously, if you do this, I’m off back to Ireland.
OK, OK, OK, OK.

– I’ll tell him. I will tell him. – OK, do.
Hi, Karl!
Oh, hi, Gloria.

That’s Gloria. Lives next door.
– We’ll take it. – Oh.

Boys, boys.
Oh, well, look at you.

Somebody’s been raiding Spandau Ballet’s closet, haven’t they?
– Gloria? – Hi, Karl.

Come and meet your neighbours.
– Hello, neighbours. – Oh, you’re American.

How did you guess? Was it my accent?
Sorry, this is Ivan. Sometimes he acts like he lives in a field.

Oh, and this is Neil. Sometimes he acts like a massive nobhead.
Gloria used to be in your game.

– That’s the original punk rocker. – Cool.
– So you boys are in a band? – Yeah.

Oh, good. I guess that would explain the costumes.
– These aren’t costumes. – No, we always dress like this.
Hey, Ivan. Why don’t you go and get us some beers?

Yes. Come along, tiger.
Let’s get you socially lubricated.

Yeah, go on, tiger.
– Hi, guys. I want you to meet Ivan. – Hiya, girls. How’s it going?
Ivan, never mind the girls. Meet the boys.

This is Mervin and Joshua and Raphael.
Oh, you’ve met him before. Gwen, love.

So, you’re a punk?
Am I?

Well, that’s what Karl said.
Plus, before, I saw your… t-shirt.

Not now, before. The Ramones. Good choice. Good choice.
Sorry. Is that a bit…

…a bit creepy, me remembering that? A bit too stalker?
– Yep. – Right.

Right.
– Fancy a toot, love? – Oh.
Thanks, love.

– That hit the spot? – Uh-huh.
Gloria.
Don’t hog the boy. He’s got to spread himself around.

I’m telling people they’re the next U2.
Only better looking.

And gay.
Oh, the gay U2. Has a certain ring to it. Don’t you think, Neil?

It’s OK, Karl. He’s all yours. I was just leaving, I have a play to go to.
– Bye. – Gloria.
I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re snorting drugs at a gay party.
– What would mam say? – I know.

– Has he got any more, do you think? – Yeah, yeah.
And we’re gonna be in the studio soon. We’re gonna be doing a music video.
Like those big fuck off, snow white palace in all the snow, like.

Except for we’re naked. Except for we’re wearing fur.
And everybody’s dancing, everybody’s thinking about

having sex with each other. But no, wait.
Everybody is actually having sex with each other.

You, me, everyone in the whole video, all up in Iceland and stuff.
Fucking hell, look, he’s snogging that bird now. Get off her!

Jesus. Oh, shit.
Would you mind if we did it with the lights off?
I hope that shag was worth it, ’cause we’re late for signing our contract.
Maybe I’m getting heartache. I’m feeling a bit worried ’cause of the coke.

– I think I’m feeling a bit hyper. – Will you shut up?
Hello.
Hi, where is Hammond?

– Are you the new runners? – No.
No, no, we are not the new runners. We’re the McCormick’s.

We’re Hammond’s new act, we’re just here to sign the old contracts.
Hammond’s history. Axed.

Kept spunking cash into Kajagoogoo.
I’m the new Hammond.
– What? – No.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

What was the last thing he said before he left?
Let me think.

I’m gonna sue you bastards right through the arsehole.
Then he sort of broke down. It was all very uncool.

Yeah, but he did tell you about our deal?
Yeah, and the fifty grand advance.

Oh yeah, it’s ringing bells. Ding-aling-ling.
But I’d say a hundred’s more realistic.

– A hundred grand? – Yeah.
– I tell you what. – What?

You boys will look fucking fantastic on camera.
We’ll do you a video to rival Duran Duran.

OK, yeah.
And we’ll shoot it on the moon.

What? Really?
No. Not really.

In fact, I’ll tell you why you boys will never be signed to this label.
You look like a pair of mental fortune tellers from a gypsy fair.

And Hammond liked you. Therefore, I hate you.
I wouldn’t sign you to this label if you paid me a hundred grand

and let me John Paul Pope your mother.
Don’t hit me. Don’t hit me.
You do not throw the McCormick’s out with the trash.

Did you hear me?
This means war!

Neil McCormick.
Neil, you’re a hard bugger to track down.

Did you listen to the new U2 album?
Yeah. Yeah… it’s OK.

Never gonna knock Thriller off the top spot though, is it?
Still, you told Mr. Machin you’d be bigger than them

and you’re still a pair of no marks. Sharon, you’re late.
He wants come back on his cash or he’ll cut yous off.
He says you’re his biggest cash haemorrhoid.

Haemorrhage, Plugger. We’re his biggest cash haemorrhage.
But I’m gonna sort it out. That’ll change.

Well, it better. Don’t make me come over there, Neil.
You know I get sick on that ferry.

Yeah, yeah. OK. Love you too. OK. OK, love you. Bye.
– Who was that? – Ma. She sends her love.
Take down those rejection letters. They’re not funny.
They’re just a bad reminder.

Well, we only got the five today.
Oh, and a postcard from Bono in Florida.

They just finished 48 shows across America.
And get this.

They smoked cigars in Vegas… with Sinatra.
Whereas we took on the music industry.
And got kicked up the arse by everyone in town.

Let me remind you that this is not a competition with U2.
Good, ’cause if it was we’d be getting our arses kicked there as well.

Oh, come on. We’re pop, they’re rock.
No. They’re great and we’re shite.

And now we’re skint, too.
I’ll be surprised if Karl doesn’t evict us.

And no, I’m not selling him my arse.
– We can get more money. – Where?

Where’s all this been coming from?
I told you. The savings.

You said it would be different here.
But all we’ve really done is change the scenery,

and traded our band for a fucking tape recorder.
Maybe we should just face reality, and go home.
We can’t leave now.

– We’ve only just started. – Just started?
We’ve been standing still. For months.

Going nowhere.
And that is where we’ve been going wrong.

The business needs to see us live.
Instead of us going to see the wankers,

we get the wankers to come and see us.
We need to get a band together.

Where are we gonna find a band?
Save your skin and you start to believe me
Lie, lie, lie then you start to deceive me

Kill the dreams like you don’t have a reason
Cry
Hold on. Hold on. Shut up.
Hi, Gloria.
Gloria, this is the new band.

Band, Gloria.
Do you think you can try cranking it down a few thousand decibels?

It’s like flat sharing with Napalm fucking Death.
Sorry.

Hey, Gloria. Aren’t you supposed to be on a theatre tour?
Here, I’ll help you. Let me do that. Grand.

My company folded so we’re gonna have to find some new way
to put up with each other without having to resort to ear plugs. Or murder.

Listen, I’m really sorry, Gloria. We’ll try and turn it down.
You really don’t have to leave.

Yes, I do. I have a job interview.
Go on, practice on me. What’s the first thing you want out of a job?
– You’re not interviewing me, Neil. – Oh, come on.

Oh, OK, I don’t know…
The usual stuff: pleasure, satisfaction.

What about a job that combines pleasure, satisfaction
– and appeals to your love of music? – Where are you going with this?

I thought if you can’t put up with us, you could join us.
I am not joining your band.

No, but you could be our manager.
Are you fucking with me? Because I’m already running late.
No, I just thought that you know, you know the scene,

and what with all your shite luck at the theatre and everything,
you know, maybe we could combine our shite luck,

and together we can make something a little bit less shite.
That’s tempting.

No, seriously, you need the work, we need help.
We’re made for each other. We’ll give you ten per cent.

Ten per cent of nothing is nothing.
Brilliant! See, you can do the maths and everything.

Plus, you run a theatre, so you know how to handle people.
Music people are very different.
Just start with the idea they’re all arses

and every so often you will be pleasantly surprised.
Go on.
So, does the band have a name?
At the moment we’re stuck somewhere

between The Cheese Graters and Lady Garden.
Wow. You really do need help, don’t you?
Let me think about it, all right?
Couldn’t ask for more.

Well, you are the hottest label in town.
Surely you’ve heard of Shook Up?

You should hear the new stuff they’re coming up with.
OK then, I’ll set a lunch.

I drank all the tea in China
I walked all the roads to Rome A bit of this.

I looked in the maps to find ya
That’s pretty… that’s sounding good, actually.

It sounded good but we need some juice. We need some moves.
I need you in conversation
I want you to be my friend

Our love was a celebration
Beginning is now at an end

I’m on my own
I can’t be alone
Pretty good.
OK, you’ve gotta stop beating yourself up after every single gig.
I’ve been here before. This is how it works.

Overnight success is a myth.
Is it?
Then how do you explain that?

What?
A million copies of the album sold.

A million.
That’s like the population of a small country jumping up and down
because they think you’re great.

– To our ten. – So, who gives a shit?
They’re doing their thing.

You’re doing yours.
What’s your problem?

I stopped Ivan being in the band.
– What band? – That band.

U2?
Yeah.
Jesus, Neil, how?

Well, we grew up with them back home.
They wanted Ivan.

I sorta hung on to him.
And then I lied to him.
And he still doesn’t know.
Wow.
You total asshole.
It was before they were famous.

I thought we were gonna be bigger than them.
That’s why it’s not enough for us to just be OK.

We have to be… we have to be big. We have to be really, really big.
So that I can look him in the eye and I can say

“Are you glad you stuck with me?”
You must love him a lot.
Yeah.

But it’s also the guilt.
You know how good the Irish are at that.
So why’d you give up your band?
My ex took it.

It was kind of like a divorce.
He got the band and I got my life back.

Mine was the better deal.
You were in a band with your ex?

What was it like, Sonny and Cher?
Ah, more like Sid and Nancy.

And then when he split back to New York I swore that
I would never get involved with anyone on the scene again.

Yeah.
But, I’ve always been a bit crap with promises.

Do you wanna come in?
What, isn’t that one of the perks of being a rock star,
or don’t you wanna have sex with me?

Now, will I be in one of your songs?
After that, you’ll be the whole album.

It’s kind of hard to find something that rhymes with Gloria.
Actually, there is already a song called “Gloria”, but…

…but I didn’t write it.
Who did?

Bono.
And when you phone me, baby
From the other side

Keep sending home the money and I’ll be all right
It is the season for your playing dead
You give me a reason to get into bed

I’ll put the flowers where you lay your head
You be the coward that’s running away

Before you leave me
Play dead for me

If you want to hurt me
Play dead for me

Before you leave me
Come in, then.

If you want to leave me
It could be a hit.

Yes. Absolutely.
In the right hands.

I could get it to Rod.
Rod Stewart?
– I mean that would be great. – That would be shite.

You don’t like Rod? Hmm?
Rod is huge.

Rod is God.
I like The Faces Rod Stewart.

Not that twat who sings “Do You Think I’m Sexy?”,
and lives in a bollocking mansion in Beverly Hills.

OK, Neil. You can go tell Rod to stuff himself.
Meanwhile, we don’t have barely enough change in our pockets

– for the ticket home. – I’m just trying.
OK, OK. I’m sensing your vibe, and what I’m getting is

you don’t want some heavy-handed rocker trampling on your artistry.
Barry Manilow?
– Barry fucking Marshmanilow. – Manilow shmanilow.

Jesus Christ. We just turned down Rod Stewart.
– He’s a prick. – I don’t care if he’s a prick.

He’s a rich successful prick
with a decade of hit records and leggy blondes behind him.

And if that makes him a prick.
Well then, I want to be a prick, too.

Listen, arsehole. Let me tell you something.
– This whole business is run on dirt. – Hammond!

Dirty deals. Dirty money. Dirty shitty people.
And you’re the shittiest of the lot of them.

Hammond, what are you doing here?
Do I know you?

Yes, yes. You said we could be in your harem.
You know, “Beautiful folk in, ugly lepers out”.

– Neil McCormick. – The McCormick brothers. Remember?
Oh, yeah. The folk act with the rape song.

– Yeah, yeah! – Oh, I quite liked that, didn’t I?
Yeah, you said you loved it.

All right, look, meet me downstairs in a minute.
OK. Neil.

Fuck off.
What the hell happened? You offered us a deal and then you buggered off.

Yeah, I don’t know. I had some kind of misunderstanding
with those arseholes there, but I’ve formed my own label now, so…

Sort of a free floating, free-loving, free agent. Yeah?
Are you still doing that folk rape shit?

No, no. These days we’re sounding more like U2 but with a bigger hit potential.
– Did I ever see you play? – No.

I mean call me old fashioned, but I don’t like to sign anybody
until I’ve seen them live.

You know, it’s so I can really experience that wow factor.
Second Saturday in July. It’s gonna be amazing.

Probably one of the best gigs you’ve ever seen in your entire life.
– So, that’s… – What?

Wow, OK.
That’s amazing. Here’s my card.

– I’ll see you there. – Yeah.
– I’m so pleased. – OK, hugs. Good.

Great, great, great, great. Fucking great.
Did I just have an acid flashback?

No. No, that actually happened. Look. Look.
Hang on though. Hang on. We don’t have a pot to piss in

and you just promised Mr. Definitely Maybe
the most stupendous gig in history.

Don’t you worry your curly little melon about it.
You worry about the music.

And I will take care of… that.
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Dublin.
All in-bound passengers wishing to travel to the city centre

please follow the signs at the pick-up point…
Bono and the lads are doing great, you know?
Are they? Really? Sure, you don’t hear anything about them in London.

It’s like another country over there.
I hope you’ve come with good news for Mr. Machin.

I vouched for you so it’s my balls on the block too, you know?
Stop your messing.

Jesus! Is that a gun? Why’ve you got a gun?
I wouldn’t be much good at me job without one, would I?

– All right, girls? – How are you?
He’s the next big U2. Neil McCormick.

He’s a rock star, and all.
Your mate Bono’s off conquering the world
and you can’t even conquer your own fucking haircut.

Just tease it out a bit, love.
So, what have you got to show for me money?

Well, we’ve got this label guy, Hammond,
and he really, really wants to sign us,

but he says he needs to see us play live first,
so we need a bit more cash so we can play that gig,

and then he’ll come through with a deal and that.
What happened to my ten thousand?

Well, there… there’s been a lot of admin.
Ten grand on bloody envelopes?

Don’t come the monkey with me, son.
You’re standing there cap in hand and you’re already into me up to your tits.

You’ve got to spend money to make money.
And didn’t you just rob some place?

Sorry, Mr. Machin. I… I can’t help what the papers say.
Scurrilous bastards.

They’d pin every crime and calamity from here to Cork on me if they could.
I just hope my poor old mam’s not reading this shite.
I’m a household name. Like Marigold.

Like Hoover.
While you’ve been falling on your arse trying to get famous,
I got more famous than the pair of yous.

So I’ve an image problem, a cash flow problem, and you.
What if I called in the debt?

– Well, I can’t pay, so… – So what?
So I suppose you would have to kill me.

For Christ’s sake, Neil, I’m not an Italian. I’m not going to kill ya.
Yet.
I need to see your return and you’re no use to me dead.
I’ll pay for your gig.
But on one condition.
I am not playing any Van Morrison.

I’m coming over to see yous.
I could do with a change of surroundings.

And I expect V-I-fucking P.
Oh shit, that’s grand.
– Hey, guys. Check this out. – Wicked.

– That is handsome. – You look like a girl.
I have got us a gig at the best venue in town.

Neil.
Come on, mate. Who’s paying for all this?
Now, I know you went to Dublin, you sneaky git.
I saw the tickets.

Just please tell me Dad didn’t bail us out.
It was Bono.
Really?
Who else do we know with any money?

Hey, aren’t they incredible?
Yeah.

We’re gonna give Hammond something that is undeniable, man.
Hang on a sec, is that Bob Geldof?

– What? – Turn that up there, Doug.
Among acts confirmed for the Live Aid benefit at Wembley Stadium

are The Who, Queen, David Bowie, Elton John, Sting and U2.
When is this?

The concert, on the thirteenth of July, is expected to be watched
by a global television audience of over two billion people.

Rock stars, Bob Geldof…
That’s the same date you chose for our gig.

I’ll tell you what’s undeniable.
That you are a cock!

You’re a stupid, arsehole, tosspot, bollock.
– Easy. – Hey, wait.

– Don’t you know Bob Geldof? – He’s from Ireland.
Oh, yeah. Yeah, Bob Geldof, he’s from Ireland, yeah.

I’ll just give Bob a call. Hey, Bob, you know your thing
with the big fuck off stars and the billions of people and that?

For the starving kids in Africa? Well, we’ve got a bit of a clash
with our gig in Camden and wondering if you could push yours back a week.

Major cock up, Neil.
– How is this my fault? – It always bloody is.

You’re a genius at making shite decisions.
You booked a gig on the same day the Pope was doing his greatest hits tour.

You booked another gig on the same day as the biggest gig in history.
You turned down Bono’s help for us to get a record deal.

And you turned down the chance to sell our songs to Rod Stewart.
OK, boys. Let’s just calm down.
We’ll just change the date.

Direct from London, a group whose heart is in Dublin, Ireland.
Whose spirit is with the world.
A group that’s never had any problem saying how they feel. U2.

Look at the size of that crowd.
We’re an Irish band. We come from Dublin city, Ireland.

Like all cities, it has its good.
And it has its bad.

This is a song called Bad.
We’ve got our own gig to rehearse for, yeah?
Come on.
One, two. One, two, three.

Oh
Oh, oh, oh

Whoa, oh, oh
Sun is shining on the sea today

You’re living your life the easy way
You’ve left behind

The world again
So be a tourist Hear the call

Now you’ve been saving your money You can spend it all
And you come away

With me today
Free from all you’re meant to be
Come on, baby Jump right in
‘Cause tonight

We can be right here where we wanna be
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Come away

Come away
Get away
Come on, boys!

Save yourself
Free from all you’re supposed to be

Come on, baby, feel the breeze
‘Cause today

So, Mr. Hammond.
What did you think?

I think I like your style.
Good mix of stadium rock, balladeering,

– electric, Celtic… – Cosmic.
Orgasmic.

We stand among stars in the ascendant. Hmm.
I haven’t been that excited since I first saw Sting.
This is my wife, Danielle.
Big fan of The Police, aren’t you, love?

Nice boys.
Why don’t you go and get yourself another fucking drink, darling?

Now, we were trying to work out who else you remind us of.
U2.

That’s it. Oh, sorry. Who are you?
Their priest.

How’d you do, Mr. Hammond, is it?
Yes, that’s right. Yeah, yeah… yeah.

So… what are you doing…
What the fuck is he doing here?

Well, it’s just friendly support from back home, isn’t it?
– From Danny fucking Machin? – Martin.

Father Martin, from the local parish. Come to bless the gig.
Oh. Isn’t that charming?

Well, it’s nice to have God in our corner.
Use all the support we can get in this fucking, shitty business.

So, did you bring a contract? ‘Cause…
…I brought a pen. – Now, then.
Danielle, are we going to sign this young band to our new label?

I thought they were really great.
They’re a big hit with the girls.

Apparently.
You don’t want to be the poor chap who reads about these boys

in Rolling Stone next week, do you?
Wishing that he could make this slippery little bugger of a decision

all over again.
Surely you’ve seen enough to make up your mind?

You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But I don’t invest lightly.
I mean, are these boys going to set the world on fire? I don’t know.

Can you explain Frankie Goes to Hollywood?
I can’t.

I don’t even like music.
What?

Mr. Hammond, could I have a word with you in private?
Would you mind? If it’s not too much of an imposition.

There are only two reasons I can think of
for two gentlemen to share a toilet cubicle.

Well, it’s not the first one.
Good. Thank God for that.

That’s what I love about the Catholic church.
You really know how to enjoy yourselves.

Shall we use your gear, or mine?
Neither. I’ve sinned enough.

I want to see my boys succeed.
Am I being given the hard sell by their priest?
No. You’re getting it from Danny Machin.

Who the fuck’s Danny Machin?
Who the fuck is Danny Machin?

– Yeah. – I’ll tell you who Danny Machin is.
He’s the answer to your prayers.

He’s the boy can make your dreams come true.
Now, it can be the best wet dream you ever had.

Or your worst fucking nightmare.
I can rip your head off and shit down your throat.

It’s up to you.
Welcome to the label.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.
Now, I want postcards from every gig.
With all the lurid details.

– No problem. – Thanks for everything, Karl.
And don’t worry, we’ll get you VIP passes when we play Wembley.

– Access all areas. – Ah!
I’ll make you sorry you ever said that.

Now, boys. A word to the wise from an old man before you go.
Remember only this.

The measure of a man is what’s left when fame falls away.
Hmm?

Oh, and another thing.
Get as much sex as you can.

There’s no problem there at all, Karl.
– Love you. – Thanks, Karl.

Take care.
– Oh, I’ll just get that. – Leave it, man.

It might be mam.
Yeah.
You can run but you can’t hide, McCormick.

Bono!
I’ve been looking out for you on Top of the Pops.

Yeah, well, apparently they’ve this Irish quota.
It’s one out, one in. And seeing as U2 are on telly every night,

I’ll have to kill you to get my turn.
Kill Bono?

I know a few people that would wear that t-shirt.
I’m already wearing that t-shirt.

Where are you, anyway?
Washington D.C. Laid up in a hotel room

with my arm in a sling and a medicinal bottle of bourbon.
Yeah, let me guess.

The fame went to your head and you thought you could fly.
Got it in one.
Right off stage. Popped my arm out of its socket.

So, now you need me to come and take over as front man for U2?
Well, OK. Seeing as it’s you.

Not exactly.
But I was gonna ask if you’d open for us in Dublin?

Get to fuck, you gobshite.
You mean support U2?

Well, we’re doing Croke Park at the end of June, and I thought,
you know, when we tour we like to support local bands, you know?

Well, so… so technically you would be supporting us then?
McCormick.

Look, we’d be supporting each other. Like the old days.
Yeah, listen, Bono.

We are just playing our own tour at the moment.
Just a few UK dates and Europe.

We got ourselves signed too, you know?
Hey, congratulations, man. I never doubted you for a minute.

Thanks.
I mean…
Call me crazy, but…

Since it’s been a bit of a bastard getting here…
I just think we’d rather play to five hundred of our own fans
than fifty thousand of yours, you know?

Well, so that’s a no?
Yeah.
Look, I’ve got to go, Neil. Talk to you later.
Oh, nice of you to join. Who was that, then?
Uh… Mam. She wishes us luck.

Check out the bus!
Jesus.
The city it wakes for me
I’m alone
I brought my six string company

The night is cold
And so is the living space

It’s hard to know
The reason for our great race

If you had a choice
Of a better way would you take it?
If you had a choice of a better way

S/H/O/O/K U/P. Shook Up.
No, not shut up.

This fucking accent.
You must be Will Hammond?

– Yeah. – Yeah. Gary Hagan. Hot Press.
Oh, hi, Gary. Thanks for flying in at such short notice. Cool, cool.

Oh no, are you kidding? I was born to break this story, you know?
– Excuse me, darling. – The McCormick’s and me go way back.

And what with the U2 connection…
Yeah, this story should make a great splash.

What U2 connection?
Gary.
Hey, now I know we’ve made it.
– Hot Press are in the building. – Whoo!

I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Neil.
You’re part of a great fucking story.

Yeah, thanks. What do you mean “part of”?
Well, you know, two bands umbilically tied.

One in orbit. One still…
…grinding it out. – Just drop it.

Do you have to shoehorn U2 into every piece you write?
Just ’cause we’re from the same bloody country. Right, come on, boys.

We’ve got a gig to play. I’ll give you some quotes after.
But I am not talking about U2.

Ivan, what about you? Will you talk about U2?
Look, Neil’s right. We grew up with them, what’s to talk about?

Oh, I don’t know. Just the fact that you could have been the fifth member.
No, that’s bollocks. It was just some arseing around in Larry’s kitchen.

That’s not all though, is it? I’ve just been on tour with them.
Bono said he wanted you in the band.

– What, Bono said that? – Yeah.
But Neil told him no. You wanted to stick with family.

Shook Up, Shook Up.
Thank you. Thank you very much. Whoo!

Neil said that?
Drink it in, bro. Drink it in.
Fuck you, Neil!

– Get off me! – Fight, fight, fight!
I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him. Get off me!

– What the cock is going on? – Get off!
Betrayed by my own brother.
We have spent years living in a warehouse, eating beans from a can.

Whereas I could have been in orbit with the best band in the world.
Get off me!

– Where has this come from, Ivan? – Gary told me.
And he heard it straight from Bono.

So, are you telling me it’s a lie?
No. So, give me the truth.
We were kids.
It was ten years ago. What do you want me to say?

– Sorry? – Yes. Yes!
I want you to say sorry.

Sorry for all the record deals you turned down,
while you were waiting for the big one.

Sorry that everything you touch turns to shite.
Sorry that you made the worst decision of my life!

Well, I’m not sorry, Ivan. Listen to me.
– Get out of my way. – Calm down. Listen. Calm down!

I am not sorry!
I’m not sorry for knowing all along that we could make it on our own.

I’m not sorry that every shitty decision I ever made has brought us here.
And I am not fucking sorry

that we are Shook Up and not U2.
– Listen. – Shook Up, Shook up!

Hear that?
They’re waiting for us out there, Ivan.

You’re not breaking up, are you?
Are you?

Oh, great. Great!
Shook Up! Shook Up!
It’s so your fault.
You fucking get out there. This is a gig.

Right, I’m going to announce you. Watch.
One, two. Hello?
Hello, music lovers.

Oi! Oi! Don’t boo me! I went to Eton.
All right, here’s Shook Up!

Get out here! Get out!
You fucking ponce.
Well, I’ve been looking for you everywhere
You’re like a breeze in the midnight air

I thought I saw you in a crowded place
And now I see your eyes on every face

So help me
Say it’s true that you were wrong
Say it to me all day long
It’s kicking off again
Wasting away Face it again

Piss it away
You

It’s kicking off again
The road It never ever ends

It’s kicking off again
Say what?
Ha!
You run press.
Could you have stopped this?

Why would I? It’s a gift.
Neil, you can’t buy this kind of press.
Buy it?

Right now, I would pay to make it go away.
Well, this isn’t helping.

I am drinking on an empty bus… because of this.
Because of you.

I didn’t stop Ivan being in U2.
No, but you told the entire world about it.

Neil. Chill out.
Just keep your eye on the prize.

My band’s not talking to me.
My brother hates my guts. If this is the prize…

…I don’t want it.
Shit happens.
You move on.

Tonight, you’ll be back there on-stage with all the girls.
Danielle, I’m seeing someone.
A faithful rock star. That’s a new one.

Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody.
Where is she, anyway?

More important things to take care of, has she?
Well, I’m here now.

Screwing the boss’s wife. That’d be another fine career move.
It would.

You wanna go far, don’t you?
I’m very good at what I do.

Yeah, I bet you are.
You’ve seen the way I look at you.

Yeah, and so has your husband.
I look after him. And I’ll make sure you’re looked after too.

All you have to do…
…is look… after me.
Thank you.
Have you guys agreed on an encore?
– Yeah, “Kicking Off Again”. – Yeah, “The Great Beyond”.

– What? – I’m not singing that shite again.
You’ve done it again, you bloody slag.

Will, please. It’s the last time. Don’t make a scene, please.
I mean, Sting I could understand. But Neil McCormick?

Problem?
Cock-driven little turd.

– Oh, Will. Will! – Shook Up! Shook Up!
Is there a problem? Is it about the deal?

It’s about your boyfriend fucking my wife.
Well, I thought you’d made every cock-up known to man.
But this… this tops everything.

But I… I just… I…
You actually had sex with this man’s wife?

You said we had to be nice to her.
Looking at you is… makes me wanna do some really nasty things.
Wait. You’re not gonna drop us?

You can’t. We’ve only just started.
OK. All good bands run on democracy.

So, let’s have a show of hands.
Who would object if I told Neil to fuck off out of the band?

What?
Looks like you’re on your own.
Right. Whose turn is it to hit you?

You’ve had a go. That just leaves me and…
Gloria. Ah!

Gloria!
One, two. One, two, three, four.
Gloria, wait. I’m sorry.
Spare yourself, Neil.

And what’s the point of being a rock star if you don’t get to sleep around?
– I didn’t mean to hurt you. – Yeah, well I meant to hurt you.

Yeah, well you did. It was actually a really good punch.
You know what?
This isn’t even about me.

It’s about you constantly screwing things up for yourself.
Fade into grey
And it don’t matter anymore

What you wanna buy It ain’t in store
Sometimes you gotta write your own songs

When you wanna sing
Disengage and leave the ground
Setting my sights On the great beyond

Silence is the loudest sound
I can’t believe it It’s so beautiful

I was lost but now I’m found
Setting my sights on the great beyond

Disengage and leave the ground
Yeah, yeah, so I’ll see ya.
Christ sake, Neil. Have you been drinking all night?
So, are you really getting on that bus?
Well, what do you expect?

Come with me.
Where to? Back to square one?

Another few years of living off fags and chips and rejection letters?
– No. – No, not to square one.

We’re on the map now. People out there are talking about us.
They’re listening to us. They’re loving us.

Not you. Not me. Us.
The head of the record label hates your guts and wants you to go to hell.

– Think that might be a problem? – So what.
He’s small time, anyway. If… if he doesn’t want us

then we’ll go bigger. We’ll go better.
Look, Jesus…

You never did know when to give up, did you?
If I did… do you think we’d have come this far?

Come this far?
Yeah.

I could have been in U2.
I should have been in U2.

You have held me back long enough.
I thought all that was behind us?

It is behind me. It’s in front of me.
It’s everywhere I look. It’s my whole life, Neil.

And now I want it back!
– Don’t cut me out now. – You cut yourself out!
Ivan!
Fuck’s sake.
I’m sorry.
Is pop music’s biggest loser in?
– What? – Come on, I know he’s back in Dublin.

– Do you mind if I come in? – I do, yeah.
McCormick?
McCormick!

Where is he?
Hi, Temple Hill. Leave a message.
Oh, bugger.

Yeah, hi, Bono. It’s Neil.
I heard you were back from the States, just leaving you a message.

Listen, I’ve been having a think about your offer and…
…and it struck me just as a bit silly really,

to turn down the big gig. Moment of madness really there, on my part.
I managed to juggle a few bits,

and I would be happy to support you on the…
Bugger!

I hate nature.
Can you guys get a shake on?
It’s like watching the world’s most depressing water feature.

Could someone please explain to me
why you were so spectacularly awful last night?

Look. Are you saying we were shite?
More lively crowd at my mother’s funeral.

You think we sound like we’ve lost something.
– Maybe it’s ’cause we have. – All right, we’ll get another singer.

Wham! have just split up. Maybe we could get that guy.
George Michael?

No, we’d never get him. The other one.
We don’t need a new singer. We’ve lost our front man.

And whatever you say about Neil, that’s what he was.
And let’s face it.

Your wife wouldn’t have shagged a bass player.
– You don’t know that. – Oi!

Cheeky git. I’ll fire you, n’all.
Look.

Neil was part of what really made this band.
And you fired him.
No. We fired him.

Yeah.
We… are supporting U2.
– What? – Bog off!
Bono asked me himself. They want a local band to support them.

– Just like old times. – We can’t support U2.
I work in a chicken factory.

Would it kill you to quit?
I don’t know whether I can still play.

You never could. No one will notice.
Eighty thousand people might notice.

What about your brother? I thought yous fell out?
You leave Ivan to me.
Trust me. He’ll want to come back for this.

McCormick!
There you are, you little shite.

I’ve been looking for you all over.
Plugger! I haven’t seen you…
Shut the fuck up, burger boy.

Mr. Machin’s been hearing ugly rumours.
Word is the band is split up.

You come running home with your tail between your legs?
Absolute crap. This is the band.

– Hi. – What?
And as it happens, we’re over to support U2 at Croke Park.

But I haven’t seen your name on any of the posters.
Is this true, twat features?

Yeah. U2, Croke Park. Yeah.
So, this should see me and Mr. Machin straight, right?
OK. I’ll call some people.

Check your story. If you’re lying,
I’ll introduce the lot of yous to Mr. Machin’s bath.

His bath?
Jesus, Neil.
What are you still mixing with those murderous bastards?

Like, thank God you’re telling the truth.
Or else we’d be in the shit.

Hi, Bono? Yeah, me, Neil again.
Just calling to check you got my last message.

Got all my band sorted.
We’re all in town and we’re raring to go, man.

OK, bye.
How are you, Dad?
Ivan, we’d hoped you might call sooner, son.

Yeah, I know. I’ve just been…
I’ve been busy with the tour and that and…

How’s Neil?
Fucked, frankly.

He’s been living like a tramp. We haven’t seen him for days
and I just had some hard arse round looking for him.

– Who? – Some kid.
The type who’d happily take your head off. Is he in some kind of trouble?

Ah! Well, if it isn’t our very own rock star.
How are ya, Niall?

I’m just trying to track down Bono. Do you know where he is?
The bands just back in town for the gig. They’re rehearsing down at the factory

and then they’re holed up at the Stanford doing press.
– Great. – Morning, Gary.

How’s Grace Jones?
Fucking terrifying. What’s he doing here?

Gary. Still writing poof pieces for Bono
with your pen in one hand and your prick in the other?

Could always do another piece on you. The refugee from rock bottom.
I think you’ve done enough damage after the last time.

And anyway it might be the best thing that has ever happened,
because I am back here to support… U2.

Hi. Hiya.
Neil McCormick here to see Bono.

He’s working. He don’t take social calls.
You’re not press, are ya?

– I hate fucking press. – Yeah, me too.
I hate press.

I’m not press. I’m a friend of his, we’re… good mates.
Everyone in Dublin says that.
Well, what do you want me to do?

Flash my “I went to school with Bono” card?
Yeah?

What do you mean we’re supporting U2?
Well, that’s what Neil said. Are you telling me he was having us on?

Maybe. I don’t know? It’s news to bloody me, you know?
I just don’t know what’s going on in Neil’s head.

Well, he was acting a bit mental. More so than usual, that is.
– And did he say where he was going? – Sure, he was on the hunt for Bono.

Neil McCormick. Hot Press.
Hi. Here to see Bono.
Bono’s not registered with us, sir.

No, he’s not a guest. He’s with the band.
They’re here for the press conference.

The band? And what band would that be now?
I’ll give you a clue.
I love clues. I love clues.

Bono!
Oh, right, Bono. Bono is not registered with us.

Listen to me, you little tight arse. We both know he’s in the building.
There’s a small army of U2 fans outside.

So, just tell me the way to the fucking conference.
He’s not registered.

Security! Security!
Paul! Paul. Its… it’s Neil McCormick.
Hey, it’s all right he’s with me.

Jesus, Neil. You look different.
I thought you were off touring the world?

Yeah, well, it’s a long story.
Listen, while I have you, I did just wanna firm up our support gig.

– The one you turned down? – Yeah, yeah. That’s the one.
Listen, I’ve had a bit of a rethink and count me in.

Sorry, Neil. You said no. Call him crazy but Bono did take that as a no.
Paul.

So that’s it? End of story?
What can I say?

Now, if you’ll excuse me? We are kind of busy at the moment.
Might catch you at the party later.

Yeah, be sure and put me on the list.
Can I see your pass, please?

Gary Hagan, Hot Press. Some people say you’re on your way to becoming
– the biggest rock star on the planet. – I wouldn’t say that, Gary.

I mean, I’m only five foot nine and that’s with the hat.
If you want to print it. Feel free, I’ll read it.
You know it makes me laugh, I mean… You hear a lot of people saying U2

they’re going to be the next this, the next that.
There was all this expectation after The Unforgettable Fire.

– Excuse me. – Yeah?
Can you tell me where I can find Bono?

Bono? Bono.
No, there doesn’t seem to be anyone here by that name, sir. No.

Oh, except for that Bono.
– Yeah, that Bono. – Ivan McCormick, come here.

Hey, Paul! How are ya?
The prodigal son returns.

Plugger. Thank God that’s you.
We just spoke with Jimmy O’Mahoney. U2′s roadie.

– What? – Yeah.
He’s heard no talk of you playing with them, you bollix.

Get in the bastard car.
Ah, ah, ah, ah! You’re driving.
I’ll be right behind you with me little friend here.

And no funny shite.
Mr. Machin does sort of like you, you know?
– Well, that’s a relief. – It’s always harder when you like ‘em.

What? Wait, what’s harder?
We thought you were gonna be another Bono. You had us all going there.

Yeah. I had myself going.
I spoke to McGuiness. He said he looked pretty rough.
I’d no idea it’d got so bad. Maybe he finally flipped?

It’s been on the cards. And to tell you the truth?
You might have had something to do with it.

Everyone wants to be a rock star, right?
Back at school, if you’d have told me that four of us

would become the biggest rock band on the planet,
I’d have asked who the other three were.

You always were a cocky fucker.
You’re everywhere.

The press, the posters and the albums and awards.
And your face on every billboard and limited edition china ware.

It’s a good little earner, the Bono tea set.
I think people like to smash it up.

We were going to take on the world with our music.
Sure, when we got going there’d be no fucking stopping us.

But you’ve got your own thing going on.
You’re not still sore about not being in the band?

No, no. I’m fine about that.
Not a day goes by when I don’t thank my lucky stars I’m not in your band.

What do you do when your best friends become your greatest rivals?
What was I supposed to do? Just… just lie down

and let my little brother get snapped up by the competition? No, no.
Well, Neil wouldn’t let me have you. And I don’t blame him.

I mean, if you were my brother I wouldn’t have let you join
– some other shitty garage band. – Oh, shit. You were U2.

We didn’t know that. None of us did.
– And we were pretty shitty. – Yeah.

I had it all planned out. Form a band.
Given the choice, would you really have picked us over him?

Release a series of ground-breaking albums.
I’d wanna say, yes.

Tour the world’s greatest stadiums.
But could you… have picked us over your own brother?

Pull off the biggest rock and roll invasion of America since the Beatles.
This was my life. Just waiting to happen and all I had to do was live it.
There was just one problem.

Him.
Well, if you’ve got a problem, why don’t you just do something about it?
Oh, yeah? What?

What, what? What should I do about it?
Will you keep your eyes on the road?
Hey, is that the…
Neil!
Neil! Neil!
Look, it’s just a shame you can’t support us on Saturday.
What?

We offered you a support slot, you said no.
What?
– He didn’t tell you? – No. He didn’t tell me.
Would you be willing to repeat this in a court of law?
On behalf of the defence?

– Whose defence? – Mine.
Because I’m going to bleeding murder him.

OK, I guess this is it. Are you ready?
– For my 15 seconds of fame? – Enough to put you off forever.
Get out of me fucking way. You out of the way, now. Come on.
Bono. Bono.

Neil McCormick. I’m a friend of the band’s.
I should be under Paul McGuinness’s list.

– OK, go straight in. – Thanks.
Neil. What the fuck are you doing?
Ivan.

What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on tour.
Yeah, I know. I came back for you, you dickhead.

– Yeah? – Yeah, but…
…I’m an idiot because… What happened to your face?

Never mind. Because I found out about the U2 gig.
– Oh. – Oh.

You turned down U2, Neil. Again.
On my behalf, again, without telling me.

Again.
I just wanted us to do it on our own.

Why does everything that we ever do always have to come back to them?
It’s like some sick cosmic joke!

Have you heard this song? I mean, is he taking the piss now or what?
He still hasn’t found what he’s looking for. He’s got everything he ever wanted.

No, he’s got everything that you ever wanted.
How do you know what he wants?

I mean, you’re going on about him like he’s a fifty foot, singing genie
that you can’t shove back in the bottle. No!

He’s Bono.
He’s just Paul Hewson grown up. And you need to get over it,

and get yourself to-fucking-gether,
so we can play this gig and steal their thunder.

It’s not happening. I spoke to McGuinness. The gig is off.
Well, I told Bono that we’d do it.

What?
Even though you’ve bollocksed it up again,

and probably don’t deserve it,
it is on.

All you got to do is sing, man.
It’s four numbers. Just like back at school.

We’re supporting U2!
We’re supporting U…
…2.
– What the fuck is that? – Just leave it, never mind.
What do you mean, never mind? There was a firearm

shoved down the front of your trousers.
What would you have done if I wasn’t here? What’s the plan, Neil?
Come down and stick that thing to Bono’s head?

– Don’t be stupid. – That’s what it looks like, genius!
Like a complete nut job trying to solve all his problems

by coming in here and killing Bono.
No.
There’s two lads in the toilet with a gun.
– I think we should probably leave now. – Yeah, I think you’re probably right.
No, fuck it. Go.
Move, move!

Get out of here.
Neil!
What do you think I am? Stupid?
Right, come here…
Piss off.

Ah, right.
Jump in. You’ve business with Mr. Machin.
No, no, no, Plugger. Wait.

We got the gig. We’re supporting U2.
Is that what do you think I am? Stupid?

I take it that’s why you had the gun?
So… fill me in, brother.

How much are we into Danny Machin for?
All in all?

– Thirteen grand, give or take. – Thirteen grand?
What is that, five grand a kneecap and three for our heads?

– That doesn’t add up, Ivan. – I don’t care!
I should be on top of the world but now I’m gonna die.

And it’s your fault.
Again!

Got them.
Don’t shoot me!
Get ‘em out.

– Mr. Machin! – Let’s get this over with.
Mr. Machin, you’ve got to believe us.
We’ve landed a really, really, really massive gig.

Sit the fuck down.
The press want to bury me.
It’s a fucking witch-hunt!

And I’m calling in all debts.
Well…

We can’t pay but… but if you just maybe give us some…
I’m not giving anything! No more fucking favours!

Now you’re not leaving here, till you pay me back.
And if you can’t pay me back, you’re not leaving at all.
We’re really gonna die.
Now, Plugger here tells me you were a journalist.

Uh, yeah. Yeah, rock critic for Hot Press.
A few bits for the school mag.

I tell you, my Pulitzer Prize is still a ways off, I…
Shut up, Neil. Neil’s just being modest, Mr. Machin.

He’s a great writer. He’s brilliant.
It’s his calling. Isn’t that right, Neil?

Yeah. Yeah.
My calling. You need someone with press credentials.

Someone to tell your side of the story. Set the record straight.
The man behind the myth, kind of thing.

Without bias, without agenda.
Oh, there’s an agenda, all right.
I assume you want to live?
OK. So you do this thing for me. You write my story,
you sell it to the papers and you pay me back every penny.

You can ask me anything you like. But you stay here and you write
till you’re finished and it better be good enough to publish.

Hang on. We can’t stay here.
Like we said, we’ve got this big gig on…

You’re not going anywhere, you daft bollock.
Either of you. You can sharpen his pencils.

– Come on. – Will you stop your pacing?
I can’t. We’re supposed to be sound checking right now.

You were the one that convinced him this was such a great idea.
In what fucking universe is this my fault?

You have a gift. Never mind the pop star bollocks.
You could be the next James Joyce. Only with better punctuation.

Oh, here we go.
We may not have time to finish this.

– Will we take the Land Rover? – You take it.
Right, lads. Let’s go.
And if I don’t see your piece in the papers by the weekend…

…it’s bath time with Plugger. Understand?
Come on. Machin’s in there.
Go, go, go, go, go!
– Don’t move! – Right, fucking don’t move!
Seamus. Ronan.
Right, lads. Get ready to jump out.
Dublin road’s just over that hill.

It’s been rock and roll, lads. Now bugger off outta here.
– What, here? – Yeah.

– It’s in the middle of nowhere. – Piss off!
Plugger!

I’m fucking freezing.
This way, is it?
– What’s so funny? – Being alive.
It’s fucking absurd but it’s great, isn’t it?

Yeah.
Do you reckon that’s the Dublin bus?
If it is, we still might make the gig.

No, we’re miles away, we’ll never make it.
Yeah, of course we’ll make it. We can do anything we wanna do.

Be anything we wanna be.
– Will you just shut up and run? – Right.

I just want you to know…
I never doubted us for a second. I never doubted we’d make it.

– We’re not there yet. – Oh, trust me, we’ll get there.
I can feel it. It’s meant to be.


















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