INT. Grungy Inner-city Pub. Saturday Evening
(band members, door bitch, tech guy)
The band is finishing off their fourth song but their gig has not gone well. Lead singer isn’t enjoying himself. He’s singing in the microphone which isn’t working as it should. Slowly the place is clearing, people are leaving in disgust, with the exception of one man too drunk to move in the corner. As they leave one punter turns to his mate.
Punter 1
These wankers suck. Lets get outta here and get some food
Punter 2
Yeah I can’t take anymore of this horse shit they call music
LEAD SINGER’S eyes follow the two as the leave the pub as the song comes to a pitiful end.. He rolls his eyes and looks back at his guitarist who is having trouble with his guitar, indicating what a horrible gig this is. GUITARIST nods in agreement.
A lady in stilettos stomps up the stage. She is the door-bitch as the lead singer refers her to. DOOR-BITCH gets right up in the lead singer’s face
Door-Bitch
Can it, losers! Youse can piss off and empty some other bloody venue
Lead Singer
(getting defensive) It’s not our fault your sound tech can’t do his job
Door-Bitch
Whaddya mean-
Lead Singer
(cuts her off, yells out to tech guy) Hey Einstein!
The TECH GUY pops out from behind the audio mixing desk, scratching his head.
Lead Singer
When are ya gonna gimme some level on this mike?
Bass Player
And turn the bloody guitar down
Tech-guy scoffs and gives the finger
Tech-Guy
(in nasal voice)
Bad workmen blame their tools …..losers.
This sets the DRUMMER off as he gets out from behind his drum set. There is a clash as he knocks the cymbal. He walks furiously to the tech guy as if to give him a piece of his mind, if not his fist. DOOR-BITCH backs away. LEAD SINGER and BASS PLAYER grabbed a hold of him to avert a disaster. They struggle to keep a grip on him.
Drummer
You twat, you deserve the shit kicked out of you
Door-Bitch
No youse git farcked, you can’t drum to save your fucking life. Look at the place!
LEAD SINGER and BASS PLAYER try to calm him down. The GUITARIST then points to the figure of an old man slumped in the corner
Guitarist
He’s paid his money – we’re playing for him
Door Bitch
(retaliates) he’s fuckin unconscious ya morons
Guitarist
No he’s not, see-ee. He’s moving
Everyone looks to see the old man stirring making noises under his breath. There is awkward pause while everyone calms down.
Lead Singer
(breaking the silence) Alright then. Let’s start the next song
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