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The soundtrack in my head: 11 Get out of London - Interferon

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If Billy was at home of course. The lights were off.

I knocked and rang the bell. There was no reply so I rang again. Giving up on that as an approach I stepped back away from the door and as I looked up at the bedroom windows I saw a curtain twitch where it had been let fall.

So I shouted up, ‘Come on Billy, it’s me, Damage! Come down here and let me in, you tosser.’

There was no answer so I went back to the door and leant on the bell.

It took what seemed to be an age before I heard him shuffling around behind the door and ask, ‘Who’s there?’

‘It’s me Billy!’ I shouted.

‘Are you on your own? No one else with you?’

‘Of course I’m on my own. Now stop screwing about and open the fucking door willya?’

There was the sound of chains, then of a key in the lock, and then there was Billy, peering out furtively, checking left and right to make sure I was alone, ready to slam the door in my face if I tried to rush him.

‘Christ man,’ I said, ‘you look like shit!’

And he did. His face was a pasty white, his eyes were bloodshot red and his hands were shaking.

‘Yeah well, feel it too.’

I stood on the doorstep. ‘Well?’

He looked at me, sighed and then held the door open wide for me to go in.

I passed Dazza’s message on to a deflated Billy. He was up and down in spasms as I talked to him, really on edge. At one point I thought he was going to burst into tears on me. He really was on the downward spiral, I could see that. God I’d better keep him out of Dazza’s sight or that would be it.

‘But I don’t understand mate, why is all this stuff about you such a big deal for Dazza?’

‘It’s because of what I know.’

Nobody seems to be returning my calls so I’m guessing the TV adaption has died on its arse which is a pain but one of the conversations I had with the TV people at one stage was about music and I’ve been thinking about the ideal soundtrack ever since.

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