Killing Bono

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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, f*** 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 A**hole

# 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.

- F*** 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.

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