Fuck The BNP - Everyone Is Special

 

The first album I ever bought with my own money was the Specials eponymous debut album. The cover gave some indication of its contents - seven grim faced men in immaculate suits staring upwards in stark black and white. The lyrical subject matter was equally as intense, drawing upon inner city violence, alienation, racial tension, stupid marriages, blank expressions, nights spent pissed up the wall in grotty nightclubs - young lives wasted and gone to the dogs. It was like a snapshot of 1979, the newly ushered in Thatcher era promising little in the way of hope or enlightenment for the nations youth.         

     But if the words were harsh, the music itself was something else all together. As an eleven year old lad, I had not heard any ska outside of early seventies stuff like “My Boy Lollipop” or Desmond Dekker – the stuff they would play on the radio as “novelty” records. The Specials first album took the most jubilant elements of Jamaican ska and reggae and added a distinctly British punk rock twist. The result was like front line news reportage set to an electrifying dance soundtrack. Like most kids my age I was swept along by the entire Two Tone thing – I wanted to dress like The Specials, dance like them; fuck it, I wanted to be a Special.

       Thirty years after doing the skinhead moonstomp in my local Youth Club I found myself in Millenium Square, Leeds, witnessing a part of my youth come back to life. The reformed Specials, far from being a cosy little nostalgia trip for the early forties set, have turned out to be very bit as vital and contemporary as they were in 1979.

      Because the thing is, I’ve been a bit anxious lately, what with the re-emergence of the far right whispering in the ear of a new breed of voters who are too young to remember the British Movement or the NF. Combine this with the lack of a coherent voice on the left and the middle ground clogged up with careerist politicians on the fiddle who don’t even bother to lie anymore, and you could be forgiven for thinking that it’s the mid seventies all over again.

        In Millennium Square, The Specials blew away my apathetic impotent despair and filled me full of hope again. I can’t remember a gig where the audience have been so joyously mixed, in terms of race, age and gender. I can’t remember such a genuine sense of celebration at an outside event.

         The only question is, where are the new Specials? Where, when we need them more than ever, are the kids with attitudes and vision and songs, and a desire to shake up the party? If you have found them, please point them in my direction.

           In the meantime, Fuck the BNP - Everyone Is Special. 

Last Job Of The Night - A Short Film (Co-written with Mick Redmonds)

Present Day - Ext -Night

 A Taxi twists and turns through dark, wet streets. Hull, East Yorkshire

 The Driver is glancing at the semi-detached council houses and street signs as they go by.

A red LED digital display clock in the interior tells us the time.

 2.26 am,

 Road sign

 Saddleworth Close

 North Bransholme, Hull. The street is dark and deserted. The taxi pulls up slowly to the kerb.

 Music fades, becomes more tinny – from the car radio

 The horn sounds twice. After roughly 20 seconds the driver shines a flashlight which scans a row of houses. It settles on a doorway to a house which, like all the others, is in darkness. The horn sounds again. The doorway opens, a man emerges. He is in his early 30’s and is dressed as if for a night out – shoes, trousers, short sleeved shirt. The driver kills the flash-light. The man walks to the taxi and opens the rear kerb-side door and gets in.

 CUT TO INTERIOR

 The taxi driver looks in the rear view mirror and regards his passenger.

 DRIVER :  Where to my mate?

 PASSENGER :  Hessle Square.

 DRIVER  :  Okey Doke.

 They drive in silence for a minute or so.

 Outside – cut to scenery en-route, car tail lights in front, glisten on road

 DRIVER  :   Been round town have yer?

 The man stares out of the side window. No answer. Driver glances up at rear view mirror again, then puts his eyes back to the road.

 Pause

 PASSENGER  :  What?

 DRIVER  :  Have yer been round town?

 PASSENGER :  Yeh.

 DRIVER :  Bit dead wannit? I was on me way home til I got your job. Mind you, week before pay day. Always a bit quiet…..

 PASSENGER  :  Yeh, right.

 Pause  …  they are driving through town and the remnants of night club stragglers are on the street,

 DRIVER  :  Don’t know about you mate, but all that lot out there …. makes yer laugh dunnit.  (Pause)  I mean; every bastard working their balls off all week, lining some other bastard’s pockets; a week of fuckin misery, just waiting for that little hand to hit 5 on a Friday. (Pause) Spend all week looking forward to the weekend … then they go out and get so pissed up they don’t even remember it…(Laughs, Pause) Barmy innit? (looks in rear view mirror)

 Passenger briefly catches his eye, shrugs

 DRIVER  :  I reckon it’s a big conspiracy, me; designed to keep us all in our place. I mean, on the one hand they’re tryna lecture everyone about drinking aren’t they; y’know, all this … binge drinking. They have that silly cunt on GMTV don’t they, that doctor. Telling us all to slow down a bit … then you got the government putting a few pence on a pint every budget day. (Mirror – nothing)

 Cut to passenger looking blankly out the window

 DRIVER  :  Token gesture innit. Don’t you reckon? It’s always just enough to just … mildly piss you off innit? Never enough for you to seriously think “Fuck that!!” Just that annoying little bit, enough for us all to keep paying it, so we keep on getting rat-arsed. Keep on drinking our wages and our memories and our brains down the fuckin pan. …(Feigns a Big Brother style V.O.) Keep drinking Britain! Keep drinking! Keep putting yer hand in yer pocket, and don’t ask awkward fucking questions. Go out! Get pissed! Spend the fuckin lot and then get back to work to earn some more! Two for one! Happy Hour! Roll up, roll up! (shakes his head) Fuckin mental. (starts chuckling sardonically)

 They stop at a pedestrian crossing.

 Ext – On the street – from inside the car

 An angry transvestite stomps into view, make-up running down his face; he carries a long blond wig in one hand and is shouting threats and obscenities at an out of view ‘friend’, all vestiges of femininity long since forgotten.

 TRANSVESTITE:  Alright then, you can Fuck off! See if I care. You don’t know what you want you. You’ve never known what you want ... fucking hypocrite ... just fuck right off…

 Taxi pulls away and the voice becomes muffled, fades

 Pause

 PASSENGER :  Will you turn that radio off, please.

 (Looks in mirror again – passenger still staring out of window)

 DRIVER  :  Whatever you say, blue. (Turns off radio) True though, innit. Take smoking as well.. They keep mekking out they give a shit; wasting tax payers’ money paying to all these ad. men to mek these … hard-hitting adverts …  that reckon to be mekkin us all stop smoking.

 DRIVER REACHES INTO HIS BREAST POCKET AND PULLS OUT A PACKET OF EMBASSY NUMBER ONE

 DRIVER  :  Do yer mind? I know it’s illegal strictly speaking, what with this being me work place and everything …d’yer want one? Tries to catch his eye in the mirror and waves a fag at him – the passenger shakes his head, so the driver shrugs and lights up – winds the window down a bit)  But how hard are they really trying to get us to stop? D’yer know what I mean? Are they really that bothered about people’s health? Are you wi’me? Why stop at making people go outside?  If it’s that bad for yer, why not just ban the filthy fuckin things altogether, eh? Well, you know why, don’t yer. Cos us smokers pay through the nose, all our lives for this filthy habit. Then, when it’s time for us to retire and get a bit back, we drop down dead. Fuckin heart failure or lung cancer or some other horrific disease. Costs em fuck all in pensions. Very convenient. Never mind statues of Churchill, they should just erect a monument to Messrs Benson & Hedges, or Lambert & fuckin Butler… services fuckin rendered …

 (Still no reaction in the back)

 DRIVER  :  What do you reckon mate? Mad innit?

 PASSENGER  :  Don’t smoke.

 DRIVER  :  Very wise…

 Long pause; Outside footage

They reach a deserted Hessle Square.

 DRIVER  :  Was it just in the Square you wanted mate?

 PASSENGER  :  What?

 DRIVER  :  Do you want to be just in the Square or one of the streets off the Square?

 PASSENGER  :  Er …. This one here .

 DRIVER  :  Right you are.

 The car turns into a narrow side street off Hessle Square

 PASSENGER  :  Just here

 Car stops

 DRIVER   :  That’s …..

 Driver switches on light on meter and looks

 DRIVER  :  … Twelve quid please my mate.

 Passenger gets a wallet out and extracts a fiver and a tenner, hands it over

 DRIVER  :  Fifteen quid … hang on …

 Driver reaches down for large leather bag full of coins

 DRIVER  :  …. Two, two fifty … three quid …

 As driver turns round to hand change over, the passenger is already getting out of the car. He slams the door shut and is gone.

 Driver shrugs and puts the money back in the bag. He guns the car down to the end of the dead end street, does a three point turn and drives slowly back up the street. The Passenger is returning from a darkened doorway and stands in the middle of the road, staring up at the house. Driver slows to a halt.

Passenger turns, sees the car and walks to the passenger window, taps on it. Driver puts central locking on, winds the electric window down.

 DRIVER  :  What’s up?

 PASSENGER   :  Whereabouts is the Humber Bridge?

 DRIVER  :  You want to go to the bridge?

 PASSENGER  :  Is it near here?

 DRIVER  :  It’s up on Boothferry Road.  

PASSENGER:  Is that far from here?

DRIVER  :  It’s a fair walk.

Silence. 

PASSENGER :  Which way is it? 

DRIVER  :  Well, it’s …. Look, I can take you up there, if that’s where you want to be.

PASSENGER :  I do.  I want to be up there.

DRIVER :  No problem. 

He turns the central locking off, passenger gets in the back seat, the driver puts the car into gear and they move off. They drive to Boothferry Road. They near a roundabout and the sign indicates the exit for TOLL 

DRIVER  :  Do you want to go actually over the Bridge? 

PASSENGER :  Silence 

DRIVER :  Well I can’t stop here mate, I either have to go over it or down into the car park

PASSENGER :  Silence

DRIVER  :  Look, I’ll drop you off there shall I? In the car park?

PASSENGER – Anywhere here’ll do. 

The car keeps going round the roundabout and off at the exit after TOLL

DRIVER: I had a mate you know…yeah, he went to Canada. The Niagara Falls. He says they dress you up in a huge rain mac, you know, like Deckie Learners used to wear at sea? Anyway, they’re stood there in these bright yellow capes an’ hats on a little ledge with the spray coming at em like a wet Wednesday in November. There’s some guide telling ‘em all about how high up it is, how much water goes over the edge per second and all that lark, and my mate looks down into the water below, turns round to this guide feller and asks him “ Do people jump off here often?”  “No” says the guide…”just the once”…

They come to a stop. The car park is deserted except for a two cars in darkness adjacent to each other at the far side.

DRIVER  :  That’ll be ….. er, look, just..just call it another two quid,

The man gets his wallet out and extracts a note, proffers it over. 

PASSENGER  :  Ere y’are.

The driver takes it and holds it up to the light. A tenner

DRIVER  :  Have you got owt smaller? I don’t think I’ve got enough change for that.

PASSENGER  :  Keep the change.

He opens the door.

Driver worriedly observes his passenger.

DRIVER: It’s a lot of change that fella, you know you’ve given me a tenner don’t yer?

PASSENGER: .Just keep it

DRIVER  :  Yeah? Nice one. How much more you got, then?

Passenger pauses halfway out the door

PASSENGER   :  You what?

DRIVER :  How much you got in yer wallet?

PASSENGER :  Ey?

DRIVER  :  Well you might as well give me the lot son. Come on…all of it.

Passenger, who was about to get out, turns back into the car but keeps his feet outside

PASSENGER  :  What are you on about you silly old twat?

DRIVER  :  Well you wont need it will yer? Not where you’re going? Might as well just give me the wallet. Is there any cards in it?

PASSENGER  :  Are you taking the fucking piss or what?

DRIVER  :  Taking the piss? No son, just being realistic. Come on, have you got your cash card in there? Come on, what’s the problem? Gis yer wallet… and whilst yer at it, you might as well giz your other cards as well. Ey, and don’t forget to tell us your PIN number.

PASSENGER :  Fuck off you cheeky old cunt!

DRIVER  :  What? Come on, I’m fuckin serious. Tell us your PIN number, then I can go and clean your account out. Why not? Won’t need it where your going, will yer? I tell you what as well…I like the look of them trainers…

PASSENGER  :  Fuck right off, cunt!

DRIVER  :  Why be like that? There’s just no need. Oh!!  I get it! Spent it all have yer? Blown it all on one final piss up? You inconsiderate bastard!

PASSENGER  :  You what?

DRIVER  : Planned this have yer? Just my fuckin luck. And here’s me thinking this was just an off the cuff thing.

PASSENGER :  Off the cuff?

DRIVER   :   Well you’re not exactly dressed for it, are yer? Bloody cold in that water, you know. If it was me, I’d make sure I was wrapped up warm. You ant even got a jacket on! You’ve obviously not given it much thought.

PASSENGER  :  You don’t know … you know absolutely fuck all.

DRIVER  :  Correct. And what’s more I don’t care. Don’t give a fuck. But what I do know is, I aren’t just gonna sit here and watch a load of money disappear into the Humber. Now are you gonna give us that wallet or not?

PASSENGER  :  (voice thick with tears) You absolute cunt.

DRIVER  :  I’m just being realistic son. This world is designed for living people int it? Not dead bastards…

Silence except for the quiet weeping of the passenger

DRIVER :  Come on son, shut the door.

Pause

DRIVER  :  Come on son.

The passenger shuts the door. He is crying. The driver starts the car up and moves off. They swing round the car park. As the headlights move across the two stationary cars we see a man and woman’s head peer briefly up from the back seat of one of them, and bob back down again

DRIVER :  Wayhey! See that? Are they at it? They fucking are! Doggers! Ey it could be that potato headed fucker from Eastenders, what d’ye reckon mate? Or Collymore…!? WAYHEY! DIRTY BASTARDS! GOOO AAARRN!

He blasts his horn in a football chant rhythm  The passenger laughs through his tears.

Pause

They get onto Boothferry Road.

DRIVER  :  Do you want to talk about it?

PASSENGER  :  No.

DRIVER   :  Do you mind if I put the radio back on, then?

PASSENGER  :  Do what you like.

CAMERA WATCHES CAR DRIVE AWAY – WE HEAR THE DRIVER BANGING ON, FADES DOWN AS CAR RECEDES INTO DISTANCE

Music: The Great Pretender – The Platters

DRIVER  :  Fuckin ‘ell, this is an old un, I remember this from when it was doing the rounds, 59 I reckon, no, tell a lie, it was 58, yeah definitely, 58 The Platters…they used to have this in Kevin Ballroom, you’ll be too young to remember Kevin Ballroom, it’s not there now, it’s …. Er … what’s there now? You know, that big building up Analby Road, next to Mecca Bingo, what’s it called, that? Been years since I went in there…

 …… etc etc etc to fade