(Mad) : Scenes 22-24

SCENE 22: Manchester City Center, outside the central library

It is evening. Reni & Ian Brown are spray painting ‘The Stone Roses’ on walls & shop fronts with a can of red paint. They are sharing a joint.

Tis cool we’re doing this, y’know, daubing
The Stone Roses all over Manchester,
We’ve been ignor’d for long enough

Ian Brown
Damn straight

Its crazy, right, a bit naughty to boot
But appropriate as accords the cause,

Ian Brown

People think we’re hooligans anyway,

Outlaws filling those preconceiv’d notions
Form’d by media-fuell’d stereotypes,
Better to feed one’s notoriety
& ride its karmic tides, than just sit back
& take abuse without its benefits

I could not feign admit I read the bones
A scryer in the times of foretelling
But something tells me something’s for something

Ian Brown
Sometimes irrepressible destiny
Needs a helping hand

Remains undimm’d, even if knows no-one
There’s brilliance in being the best

Ian Brown

After tonight, in Manchester at least,
None able to ignore us any more

Ian Brown
We are poor exiles in our own city
I saw Dante’s house over in Florence
He was an exile too, but crafted then
With miraculous, gifted, genius
Inferno, Purgatory, Paradise,
The lyricism of the wounded heart
Inspired to greatness by his inner star

Besides, its gonna brighten up the place
In runic swirls this lovely scarlet paint
Manchester in the eighties – dull, grey, shit

Ian Brown
The Alarm did the same, mate, wherever
They play’d, they’ve left a calling card behind
As precedent embalms each principle
We’re only banner-holders waving ‘punk
Aint dead,’ y’know, its just transmogrified

We’re hardly doing permanent damage
We’re not the fucking Luftwaffe, its paint,
It washes off, here you are
{passing the joint}

Ian Brown
Cheers my friend
It’s like we’re putting oars in the galley
& pushing out of port, these red scrawls

Are heaving muscles each, set to propel
Us whither, in the sea of Rock & Roll

As comets have a tail, leave trails of dust
Let this graffiti join the Kuiper belt

Ian Brown
& when our magnipotent planetoid
Tears thro the solar system then departs
They’ll always trace our traject to the stars
Projecting there forever shining high

There’s gonna be some fuddy-duddies tho’
Who’ll see this act as attacking the state

Ian Brown
Fuck the state, & fuck its figurehead
Parasites donn’d in trabean togas
Six centuries of piss-taking enough,
Its nineteen-eighty-five, time to get real
They say when ravens London’s tower leave
Falls England, well I’m gonna run down there
With my gun, making sure the birds all flown

Ha-ha, yeah, fuck the Royal family
They’re all just a bunch of castle rustlers

Ian Brown
Buckingham Palace should be turned to flats
For all the folk roov’d by a cardboard box
While every provincial stately home
Not yet museum, sieze one Saturday
Decomposting saturnine patricians
By eliminating elitism
A better, fairer world is guaranteed

Let’s think of generations yet to come
& preachify a message of protest
By music painted, by songs delivered,
To the malcontented, we’ll create
Funky, evangelical canticles
To change the servile mindset of this world


Ian Brown

There’s a copper

Ian Brown

Over there

Ian Brown
Fuck, lets get out of here

Wait, just let me
Finish this

{Ian sprays the e & the s}

Hurry up, Brownie

Ian Brown
Hang on
Reyt, lets go

Ha-ha, proper funny, mate

Exit Reni & Ian Brown

SCENE 23: December 1985 – Boothtown, Shaun Ryders’s flat

Bez & Shaun are watching Watership Down in tears

Shaun Ryder
This film’s so mess’d up, man, messes me up

Its not fuckin’ Disney is it,

Shaun Ryder
I know
I can’t watch any more rabbits dying
Fucking Watership Down, what we doin?

No way should they give it a U rating
Just cos its animated, its murder
For kids

Shaun Ryder
Lets, put some fuckin tunes on then

Where’s yer stereo

Shaun Ryder
There’s a tape deck there
& plenty of choice in the box beside

I like your pad

Shaun Ryder
It’s a fucking shit hole
Politely describ’d as bohemian
A single bedroom Paul nor I e’er clean
& cold baked beans hunger’s only succor

But nicer than mine, trust me, anyway
These souvenirs you brought back from the Dam
Are something else

Shaun Ryder
This Temple Ball’s the best
Tho’ Kashmir Charas comes a close second

I tell you what, tho, seeing a full bar
Of Cluster’d Finger’s a sight for sore eyes
Can I put some in my pipe

Shaun Ryder
Course ya can

I got this from Morocco, so why lace
The taste of nature’s finest with rizlas
{drops pipe down the side of the settee}
Aw fuck –

Shaun Ryder
Whats up

Just dropped me pipe, hang on
{pulls out a bra}
Eh-em, are these yours mate?

Shaun Ryder
I remember them
That was from the Corbiers gig – mad night,
Her strange, synthetic perfumes well uncork’d
But she was such a dickhead, honestly
I mean, the glamorous ones always are
Destitute of thought beyond mascara
Still, she had certain… qualities, lets say,
To make up for those idiot tirades

{pulling out the pipe}
Here we go

Shaun Ryder
I would gave pipe that a wipe
There’ll be more than fucking brazieres down there

Mate, it has to be the Monday’s effect,
Not exactly Playboy Mansion is it
But pullin’ stunners surely does reflect
The sheer funkiness of thy fresh music
Sounds nothing like what I have heard before
Strange but familiar, together
But chaotic, like riding the waltzers
Here, there, spinning round upon sonic blasts,
Dizzying & thrilling ev’ry second
My first gig was the highlight of my life
Just three days gone, its ear-worms burrow’d deep
When witnessing an awestruck gathering
Eyes wide open, ingesting you en masse
Watching the vibrance of the dispossess’d
I saw in them what they all see in you
& that’s themselves, mirroring the soulstars
Within us all, the raw epitome
Of these rough lives, within the Motley Crew
That is your band, every slice reflected
By thy hooligan pie, thy knot of rogues,
Processioning the soundtrack of our lives
{Bez goes on the pipe & coughs}
That’s fucking magic that is

Shaun Ryder
My turn now
Tis all about rock n roll, tho, innit
To stroll along hedonistic paths of
Knowledge & action, just like the Doors done
Is buzzing, man

Tell me about the sound
It is a molten mix of mental-ness

Shaun Ryder
I’ll take us right back to the beginning
We sat around in the forest one day
Knee-deep in discussing our direction
& all was chaos in our rude converse
One wanted to sound like Alex Chilton,
Some Funkadelic, one Tibetan Folk,
Even Heavy Metal got a mention
But in the end we only all agreed
On throwing everything together
& seeing what we’ll make of the melange
Sonic thieves we’ve fused all styles together
Rendering moments sometimes fantastic,
Then wacky, weird, deluded & bewitch’d,
Like when you find a fossil in a rock
The magic thunders in when we just… click,
Then other times when fallens all apart
Right now, tho’, let me blast off on this joy
For, man, this stuff is sacred, alien

Your eclecticism don’t surprise me
I hear the sound of the revolution
Piercing minds with needle-sharp brevity
Dragging back the lips of reality
World-entering, glazed by gunk, blood, mucus,
Sticking out its head of horns & singing
Bitter songs thro you, its poet spokesmen,
While your dysfunctional sense of focus
Seems set this coming era to define

Shaun Ryder
We’re just a band of fuckin’ misfits, pal
& that’s why you’ll be fitting in peachy
Such a shame you can’t play owt tho, nor sing

That might be so, but man I love my tunes

Shaun Ryder
So, I’ve got enough dough here for either
A chippy dinner, a trip ter offy,
Or a bag of china white


Shaun Ryder
Yeah mate

Nah, not for me, thanks, that stuff is lethal
You’re not a skaghead are ya Shaun, fucks sake

Shaun Ryder
Not at all, but time to time I dabble
Its reyt in small doses, helps me come down
From gig-induced adrenaline brainbuzz

Skagheads are just scumbags, the worst bastards
I’ve ever met

Shaun Ryder
What about Baudelaire
& William S Burroughs – great writers,
& Coleridge, without his laudanum
Would there have ever have been a Xanadu

That’s them, not me, I’m never touching it
Again, I might be a garbagehead, yeah
But I aint fuckin’ stupid, that shit’s shit
The bitter clamoring of eager tongues
Oer pounds & pennies & drug paraphenelia
Helterskeltering into viscous hells

As skinny as a last prison rollie
Another life cast off & toss’d to dogs
Shaun – have you ever gone hypodermic
Bearing the scars that never heal’d a wound

Shaun Ryder
Of course not, I just like a little toot


Shaun Ryder
Tis just my shut-off mechanism
For dealing with the world

Or not dealin’
More like, but each to their own, just not me
I will not be partaking in that grime
I too felt that instant ready brek glow
Of sheer, searing invincibility,
That pure feeling of I don’t give a fuck
But stepping from Apollo’s pedestal
I watch’d my friends struggling to reascend
& realised twas serious tackle
In weeks they’d go from smokin’ to diggin’
Their smilin’ stopp’d, they forgot how to dance

Shaun Ryder
Alright, alright, how about the offy
Let’s get the drinks in, what is your tipple

Well, I’ve had a long-lasting love affair,
With apple cider since I turn’d thirteen
Directly from the Garden of Eden
Among the bowl of fruits there’s no contest
With cider you can literally taste
The sweetness of spirituality in it
It’s medically beneficent too!

Shaun Ryder
Cider it is then, I’ll just nip ter shop

But before you go let me rack this out

Shaun Ryder
What’s that

Got it from the man from Peru

Shaun Ryder
Now you’re talking – that’s the proper white stuff

Fat daddy line before you go ter shop
The chemical pursuit of happiness
Needs such collaborations

Shaun Ryder
Chop em out
Before I’m splaffin’ puff’d up superbus
You’re well sound you are Bez

Cheers, so are you

Shaun Ryder
Sometimes I like to be, y’know, dead nice
But sometimes I like being a real cunt
I get a buzz out of both, but a cunt
Is best, I think, take punches time to time
But life is a hell of a lot simpler

So how did you first get into music

Shaun Ryder
Fodder for the soul, innit, mi father
Always play’d in pubs, mi Auntie Mary’s
Full of kids, nine she conjur’d in the end
All with varied vinyl tastes, piels on piles,
The Byrds I heard, & Captain Beefheart too,
Billy Preston, our Maggie loved the Tams,
Bits of Reggae, U-Boy, Bunnie Wailer,
& loads of soul from Robinson’s Records,
I love a bit of Otis Redding me,
Mi mam & dad & had loads of albums too;
Everly Brothers, Jerry Lee Lewis
Fats Domino, the Stones & the Beatles
& so with each circumnavigation
Of the stylus, our spiritus enrich’d

Nice mix of music that, varied is good
Can’t stand the clanniness of Manchester
Are yer Punk or Mod or Rocker – fuck off
I’m all three & hundred more besides
Reyt, hop aboard the Last Train to Clarksville

Shaun Ryder
Ha-ha I fuckin love the Monkees me
Daydream Believer, that’s like my mantra
I robb’d it back in seventy-three, ehm,
That’s right, with Hunky Dory, they were my
First ever records, knew this much at once
I’d be a pop star one day hopefully
But not Roger Daltry with a fish farm
As long as I’ve got somewhere safe to kip,
Pockets stuff’d with drugs & money, nice cars
To drive, I’ll be happy,

& the birds

Shaun Ryder
{snorts a line of cocaine}
Fuck, that’s good that, here ya
{passes the coke snorter}

It’s proper clean
A mate of mine’s connected to Bilbao
An early berth for Columbian ships
Ensures a shorter chain before the snort
{Bez snorts a line}
Fuckin hell !

Shaun Ryder
Bez, you know what I fancy


Shaun Ryder
Another of these trips

Yer joking

Shaun Ryder
Nah, I’m not, giz one

You’re on in three hours

Shaun Ryder
It’ll help to pass the time then

But if you’re having one, I’m having one

Shaun Ryder
Get it down yer neck Bez

{passing a microdot}
Here you go mate

Shaun Ryder
After the gig we can go exploring
I love developing night time vision
With all its trailing weirdness, then BANG! Its Dawn
All soak’d in glorious technicolour

{popping his trip}
Let the cheese pie in the sky shine easy

Shaun Ryder
Lets put on a bit of Funkadelic
Proper grooves

I have pull’d some shapes to them

Shaun Ryder
You’re a great dancer, Bez, reyt fun to watch

Dancing’s a massive part of our culture
Ev’ry room in ev’ry venue’s diff’rent
A stage for fun & frolics on the floor
The northern soulers, metal headbangers,
Punkheads, disco kids, & the ska rudeboys,
I love to be among them all, & groove

Shaun Ryder
You should get on stage with us lot tonight


Shaun Ryder
Get on stage – Funkadelic do it
Yeah, you’d be great man, take the flak off me
I just wanna focus on my singing

Fuck off, I’m getting on no fucking stage

Especially at the Hacienda

Shaun Ryder
Why not

Im’ not gonna be the token
Ignoramus twat, no fucking way mate

Shaun Ryder
You’re a promise waiting to be fulfill’d
If you dance there, you might as well dance there
I’ll give you some maracas or summat

I’m not getting on stage with the Mondays

Shaun Ryder
If you don’t get on stage you’re a soft cunt

Fucks sake, I’m either a twat or a cunt

Shaun Ryder
Either way you’re a fanny, mate

No chance

Shaun Ryder
Look, lets get out to the offy
& get some Dutch coragio down us
Incontrovertible lubrication
For antics of this evening to unfold

In what world would I ever join a band

Shaun Ryder
My world mate, the world I’m on creating
With all my killer brethren, now you are
One of us, you must share the spectacle
& wear the Happy Mondays on your heart

I’m not getting on no fucking stage, X

Shaun Ryder
Mark Berry, Manchester’s biggest pussy

Fuck off, you’re not blagging my head with this

Exit Shaun & Bez

SCENE 24: The Hacienda, Manchester

The Happy Mondays take to the stage /
Clint Boon & The Stone Roses are in the audience

Shaun Ryder
Hello Manchester, the Hacienda
Everybody up for it tonight, yeah
{Shaun starts beckoning to Bez at the corner of the stage, waving a set of maracas}
Bez, Bez, what you doing, this is your time!
What more powerful motive do you need!
Ladies & gentlemen, let me introduce
The latest member of the band, Bez, Bez!
Bez! Come on Bez, what are you playing at!

Paul Ryder
Get on the stage, man, you’re one of us now

Bez leaps on stage & takes the maracas – The band play Twenty Four Hour Party People

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s