Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll Page #2

Russ! Where are you going?

Russell, wait. Wait!

# Fraser and Nash pony and trap

# Up your 'arris, in your mince

# Hamptons don't leave fingerprints

l'm the blackmail man

Call that singing? You're sh*t.

F*** off!

I'm more of an Emerson, Lake

and Palmer man myself.

I thought you were f***ing great.

Really?

Great as in celebrated,

illustrious, famous?

Or great as in large, fat, bloated?

Something you do

to a nutmeg, perhaps?

Great as in great!

And I should know.

I saw Jimi Hendrix before anyone.

-Really?

-Mmm-hmm.

Tell me. Was Jimi. ..nice?

Yeah. He was extremely polite.

So, do you always wear those glasses?

For your protection, my dear.

I am very, very good with women.

I used to live with me mum

and her two sisters.

I like women so much,

I used to think

I was a repressed homosexual.

But I'm not.

Fortuitously, I am gorgeous to look at.

Can I tickle your tonsils, please, miss?

-Maybe.

-Mmm.

You have to be extremely polite.

Oi, sling your hook.

Just pay up what was agreed.

I didn't agree to a bunch of spazzers

from the mental home.

You see, that's just not

a very spiritual thing to say!

Well, have a look at your drummer!

What's the problem?

He can't leave the stage

at the interval.

So?

Well, it don't happen

to f***in' Pink Floyd, does it?

And as for Long John Silver.. .

Oi, mate, you puttin' it on?

You didn't limp like that on stage.

Oh, no. On stage I try to hover.

Look, I'm sure we can come

to some friendly agreement.

Yeah, we can agree you can't sing,

you're past it

and you look like a Potato Jesus.

-No offence.

-None taken,

you fat-ankled f***er.

Fat ankles?

I might be a f***ing cripple, mate,

but I'm dangerous, all right?

You wanna sort out your inner calm.

Nice one, Davey, go on.

Go on, my son, get in there!

Russell. Russ,

we need to talk about this.

There you are. There's your millions.

Joke money, joke life.

It's over, mate. We're going nowhere.

Russ, why you got to say

things like that?

I quit.

Nobody quits.

Quitting is not in the vocabulary.

Yeah? What about "F*** you, Ian"?

Is that in the vocabulary?

-What did you say?

-Nothing.

Go on, then. Go on.

I don't f***ing need you.

What do you mean?

I write the music, I drive the van.

I carry you up the stairs

when you're pissed.

I make the f***ing sandwiches.

Can you drive?

Yeah, see, she can drive.

And I bet she can make f***ing

sandwiches and all.

Russell, come on. Look, we're talking,

mate. We're trying to talk!

Russell!

Right, you're f***ing fired.

You are, you're fired.

You didn't quit, you were fired!

-Yes? Do I know you?

-No.

Well, do us a favour

and f*** off, will you?

Hey, Ian, you know that geezer's

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