Tommy Steele Podcast and the Simon Pegg Movie

I am with Frost and Pegg. We are at the end of a movie we’ve made. The cried don’t get the ending. On the way out, they are given a comic. The ending is in there. Joke adverts and notices contain alternative endings for the characters in the film.

I am in the Posada with my boss. I decided to get drunk. Ori plays a strategy/FPS game on her laptop. She’s a lot further on than I am. It involved penetrating into a labyrinth of genetically enhanced dinosaurs.

I go to the toilet. It is busy.
Returning to our table, I see other friends have joined us. Jen sits with a happy rat in her lap, it’s back leg pedalling as she scratches his belly.

Tommy Steele is in the pub. He asks if he knows me from his performing days. I mention ironing bacon, and making music from meat and fruit, he is interested, but doesn’t know me. I ask about his career. Too many things to mention. He is trying to scrounge the money for another drink. I explain what a podcast is. I ask if I can follow him for an evening, recording his recollections, to produce a podcasts sponsored by advertising. He will get some money. He likes the idea.

I feel drunk and leave. The service was terrible, I’ve only had two pints of Guinness.

Outside, I don’t know where I am. I walk up a narrow stone path to Bewdley House. Behind me disabled children push themselves uphill in wheelchairs. One is just a moss covered Star Wars Stormtrooper helmet, pushed by a friend.

At the front of the old house, I see that there’s a tree inside, bursting through the bay windows on three levels, the walls themselves are collapsed in places.

I lay on the grass to photograph the tree. The viewfinder shows me a kaleidoscope image if choirs singing and people doing art.

I go inside the building. It is an arts centre. I slide through a tiny gap an find myself in the remains of a Christmas market. It is crowded. I comment on the fancy dress two guys are wearing. They are a combination of samurai and ninja, one is wearing a pink tutu and matching feather boa also.

We walk outside, along a dark, wet, backstreet. We talk about how it’s like a Simon Pegg movie, where the characters walk along Tarantino style, but singing their own music, until they run out of road related songs, as the street is really long.

We decide to go to the Firehouse, rather than Arena. The guys fight over this, ripping each other’s clothes and knocking each other out. They are covered in blood.

A police car arrives and I run for it. I doubt they will believe the truth. The car follows and skids, crashing into a wall behind me. A class display case suspended outside an old electrical shop falls onto me.

I sit inside and wait. I’ve seen this before, in a Simon Pegg movie. Inside the display case I’m effectively invisible to the police.

They find me but don’t know what to do. I eat sweets, drink a tiny bottle of fairy liquid and wait.



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