Genre: Short
18 min

Thank you!

One, two, three, four!


Where the f*** have you been?

Johnny boy, have you got me rent?

Yeah, yeah, Mrs.

O'Malley. I got it.

It's paradise, isn't it?

Hey, did you remember to tell Mrs.

O'Malley about the leaking gas canisters?

- Here you go, Mrs. O.

- Thanks.

- No, I forgot.

- Well, don't forget, babe.

I can't bring up a child

in these conditions.

But you're not even pregnant yet.


Some flyers from the first gig.

With Thrasher and the Buzzcocks.

The good old, bad old days.

And I'm all washed up.

I've got to get that.

Leave it. Just leave it.

- Might be important.

- Johnny, leave it.

Keith Moon, Sid

Vicious, now Thrasher.

Drugs go with genius.

He loved drugs.

Yeah, well, now he's dead.

Kev. Kev, it's him.

It's him. It's Bono.

- Who? Where?

- Johnny Jones, Weapons of Happiness.


We have gathered here today

to share in the loss

of Emrys Upyerwest,

a.k.a. Thrasher.

If anyone asks, I'm doing a movie

soundtrack for Guy Ritchie.

- Right?

- Guy Ritchie. Yeah. Right.

- Look, look, look.

- Yeah.

- Mike Peters.

- What?

- Oh, my God, it is.

- Hey.


- Mike!

- Hey, Johnny!

- How you doing, man?

- I'm cool, I'm cool.

- How are you?

- I'm not to bad.

- You're looking good.

- And you. You look great.

- Is this your boy?

- This is Dylan, yeah.

- Say hi to Johnny, mate.

- Hey.

This is Johnny from the

Weapons of Happiness.

We do not come here today

with any glib answers.

We're stunned, we're hurting.

We haven't a clue what's going on.

It's like the Punk

Rock Hall of Fame.

They all turned out for

Thrasher's funeral.

- He wasn't even that famous.

- He loved life.

- I'm more famous than him.

- He loved music.

He loved dogs.

Death is the destiny of everyone...

- All right, Diggle?

- Considering the circumstances.

I hear the Buzzcocks

are on a world tour.

Any chance of a gig?

Are the Weapons of

Happiness back together?

No. And God rest his soul.

I mean, if you need a guitarist,

you know, in the Buzzcocks...

It might be difficult to believe...

- That's bad taste, isn't it, mate?

- ...but the Bible says that it's actually

good for us to come here today.

- I ain't seen the Weapons since we split.

- In Ecclesiastes, Chapter 7, Verse 2,

God says this:
"It is better to

go to a house of mourning"...

- Well, they're over there.

- God is saying,

"It is better to come to a

funeral than to a pub."

Look at Robbie... how fat he is.

Griff. He looks like a

rocker with that ponytail.

Ah, there he is.

Minto. He lost all his hair.

Good. That's death for a rock star.

Don't start where you

left off, babes.

Come on. Life's too

short for enemies.


Oi, tosser! You owe me money.

I owe you nothing, mate.

Got you there.

Bloody hell, Johnny, eh?

You look like a bag of sh*t, mate.

Look at that. Still got

the same boots on.

- They were a good investment.

- All right, mate?

A bit slitty-wristy really.

Mental about Thrasher.

I'd have thought heroin, choking

on his own puke, not angina.

What's he expect?

Didn't look after himself.

- Didn't eat properly.

- So where you living now?

- Back home? London?

- No, I'm here, mate.

- Is Elaine here?

- Yeah.

Two youngest ones are at home.

Now look. Paris and Rio.

Rio and Paris.

What about you, Johnny?

Have you got any kids or what?

No. And do me a favor.

Don't bring up the subject

when Jules is about, eh?

You wanna get a spur on, mate.

It's a well-known fact

that birth defects rocket

after the age of 40.

- That what happened to you?

- Eh?

How old's your kid now,

then, eight, nine?

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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