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Dividing Up The SpoilsSpider: Everything's a load of bollocks. Vim: (sighs) Let me explain the deal to you. Den: Okay, go on, explain the deal. Vim: It's twenty grand... Spider: That's all Den says, "It's a load of bollocks!" Den: Twenty grand? Twenty GRAND?! Vim: Twenty grand... Den: Where's that? Where's the twenty grand? Spider: Den, why don't you write a song, Den, called "Load of Bollocks"? Den: Where's the twenty grand? Vim: Well, what it is, is twenty grand, right, and the record company, EMI... Den: Yeah... Vim: ...er, pay for the record. Den: Every Mistake Imaginable. Vim: So there's... yeah, you... Spider: Den, that's a load of bollocks! Vim: Right, so the money... Den: EMI! Every Mistake Imaginable! Vim: ...gets split according to who's important. Spider: Go on, Den, say it! Den: What, and the rhythm guitarist isn't important? Vim: Well, he's not as important as the fucking songwriter, leader of the band, singer, lead player, lead everything, is he? Den: That's a load of bollocks! Colin: Sounds like all of us. Spider: There, he said it! See? See, you said it, Den. Den: What? Spider: "Load of bollocks!" Vim: You're on forty quid a week! Colin: I'M not. I'm on £11.25 a week, I thought the whole band were. Vim: You got a taxi home every night. Den: Have you? You took a taxi home every night? Vim: He has! Colin: No I didn't! I did not! Vim: You get forty grand, he gets eleven quid and his taxis. Den: When do I get forty grand? Vim: Not forty grand, forty quid. A week. Den: When? Where? When? Vim: You fuckin' had it! Sharky handed it over to you in your hand! Den: I never! I never... I never, I never! Colin: I've only had eleven pounds and twenty-five pence since January. Vim: That's 'cause you've had so many fuckin' cabs! You think you're a fucking rock star! Colin: Well, my contract looked very different to yours. Vim: Of course it fuckin' did, 'cause you're not the fuckin'... creator, are you? Den: Yeah, 'cause you were sick over yours, weren't you? Spider: I signed the one... Colin: No, YOU were sick over mine and you accused me of being sick over it. Den: Oh, that's it, yeah. Sorry, yeah, I was sick over yours. Colin: If you hadn't got drunk at the signing it would have been a different story. Spider: I signed one that said forty-four pounds a week... Colin: (burps) I'm sorry. Spider: ...and forty pounds was tax and insurance.. Colin: Yes. Spider: ...and you got four pounds in your hand, clear. For twelve years. And you couldn't record with anybody else... Vim: For five years. Spider: ...or work for any other company, and I said, I signed it, you know, 'cause everybody else signed it! Vim: Well, that's it, I mean, you're signed to Bad News... Spider: I fucking signed it! Vim: In five years' time... Spider: I feel a fucking twat! Den: You ARE a fucking twat. Spider: I just borrowed five hundred quid... Den: Let's face it, look... Colin: No, but the most important point is... Den: Come on, we're ALL fucking twats! Colin: ...is that there is a disparity in wages here. Vim: Well, it was... I mean, you were there when we fucking signed it, it wasn't my fault you were pissed, was it? Den: But you've seen the money? What did it look like? Vim: You signed it though! Den: How big was it? Vim: You signed it that I get the fuckin' advance and you get the mechanical royalty. Den: So you got twenty grand? You have got twenty grand? Vim: Well... Sharky picked up fifteen and I picked up the five. Den: WHAT? Spider: Eh? Den: You've got five grand? Vim: Well... Den: You have got five grand? Now? Vim: I haven't got it anymore, I've fucking spent it, haven't I? Den: You've got fucking five grand?! Vim: I've... Den: You've got five grand? (There is the sound of punches being thrown.) |