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This story was written a long long time ago, well, maybe six years ago: it features a cast of British musicians, and certainly Bernard really does talk in elipsis. It is mostly set in London and Canvey Island, England.

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Atomz Complete

Brett and Bernard get off the bus at Palmers Green; Bernard wants to show Brett Broomfield Park. "It's like this big park, man...like huge...." says Bernard. Brett smiles nonchalantly looking at his reflection in Bernard's mirror shades. "And it’s famous as well." "Why's that, Bernard? Fuck what the hell was that?" They both stare at the open top Jaguar E type that has slewed to a halt, with a screech of brakes. Inside the car are two people, the driver being one Damon Albarn. Next to him sits the Girl. Damon jumps out. "Oi, Brett baby!" says Damon. "A word in your shell like." Bernard removes his sunglasses and blinks in the midday sun at Damon's scuffed Harrington with a hole in the sleeve. Damon is wearing a crash helmet and racing goggles. "Oh hello, Damon? How was Brighton?" "Can't complain matey," says Damon, strolling over to where Brett is standing perfectly posed as if for a photo shoot in the cover of the awning from a music shop. "Have you heard what the Gallagher's have done?" "No, why should I have?" Brett says tersely. He still feels wary. "They've bought Canvey Island. They are going to turn it into a giant theme park." "And? What has this to do with me?" "The tapes, mate, the tapes Bernard sent down to Estuary Studios." "Oh fuck." "Oh fuck indeed. I am getting some of the people together to form a rescue mission. So Brett, are you in or out?" "But wait a second, I have five copies of the tapes in my safety deposit box," added Bernard, nonplussed. "Unless...." "There's been a bank robbery," says the Girl joining the three men by a groaning cardboard box full of Menswe@r singles. Brett studied the brunette dressed in suede and admired the way she had done her eyes that morning. "A bank robbery?" He raised one eyebrow sardonically. The Girl smiled then went red. Damon noticed her flush. "Ey love," he said, "you ought to watch him, he has this habit of making girls go weak at the knees." The Girl stopped smiling. "See?" Bernard shook his head. "I don't understand how they knew what bank to rob," he said. Damon laughed. "It's not funny. I need the tapes for this evening. Brett and I are getting the final mix together." "So Mr Albarn, what do you suggest we do?" Brett said finally. "Get the train to Benfleet and hurry on sundown to Canvey Island?" "Not as easy as you may think, matey," said Damon lifting the goggles onto his crash hat. "They have security down there now. I counted 50 trucks of black bomber jacketed guards going over by Essex Way. I think there's a couple of tanks and what appears to be some sort of anti aircraft battery there now. No, we are going to parachute in at night and break into their base at Waterside." "I'd like some tea first," said Bernard. "Then we must all walk round the park...see the ducks..the swans...and breathe in the day." Brett nodded, turned round and pulled out a mint copy of God Save The Queen on A&M from the punk singles box next to him. He looked at the vinyl, not a scratch and paid the owner who had just come out to see what was going on fifty pence. "This is a good omen," Brett said. He handed the single to Damon who held it up like the Grail. "I hope you like it," he said. "You cant' just steal an aeroplane...its not done...it may lead us to hot water.." said Bernard as the two cars slid to a halt by the pub down the road from the Hendon air museum. Brett flexed his fingers and yawned. "The boy done right," Brett said. "Why do I always have to drive?" He glanced at the walnut dashboard of the Aston Martin DB6 that was painted a fetching shade of silver. On the built in stereo Bryan Ferry finished singing Streetlife, and began another song. "I play guitar...yes, that's what I do..." replied Bernard testily. "Therefore you drive." Brett gave him a careful look. "And no... I am not going to jump out of the plane playing the lead solo from We Are The Pigs." "Pity," said Brett, opening the car door. "Look, there's Damon and the Girl getting out. Fancy a pint before we see Jarvis?" "Jarvis...?" "Yes, Mr Cocker is the curator there now, he will give us a hand. I hear he has a pilot's license now." They climbed out of the car, and met Damon and the Girl by the door to the saloon bar. They went inside. On the jukebox a Beatle was singing about yesterday. At the bar, Morrissey was pulling pints. "Hello loves," said Morrissey. "What's it going to be then?" "I'll have a pint, Bernard will have the same, a G&T for the girl, and er, a babycham for my friend Damon." "Shut it. I am no Manic Street Preacher!" Damon snapped. "Oh look, a 1967 Wurlitzer." He went over to the jukebox to take a closer look at the fine workmanship while Morrissey told Brett and Bernard about the pub. He had won it in a card game off Liam one night in Soho. Liam owned about 14 pubs now, so this one wouldn’t be missed. They all sat down at a table by the window. It was getting dark outside. Morrissey made up a plate of cheese and pickle sandwiches, apart from the girl who had a packet of crisps as she wasn’t that hungry. "So what's the....plan?" Bernard said, sipping his pint. "What happens next?" "It's Damon's baby," said Brett winking at the Girl, who suddenly turned very red indeed and had to be excused. The three men leaned closer to each other and Damon quickly outlined how they were going to take a Dakota that Jarvis would fly. * The air museum was about to shut, but the guard at the gate let them in. They stashed the wheels behind Hangar A and waited for Jarvis to appear. The airfield had changed a lot. Gone was the offices and flats, instead the ground had been returned to concrete. A long runway stretched north. After a while Jarvis rode up on a Raleigh chopper and after shaking hands with everyone, led them over to the hangar, inside which was the Dakota. "It used to belong to David Bowie," Jarvis explained as they climbed up the steps and inside the aeroplane. "He insists we keep it fuelled ready for departure at a minute's notice. I have put four parachutes in the cabin. My co-pilot and despatcher Louise is waiting for us. I have Johnny Dean at the Control Tower ready to let us take off." It all seemed very well organized, but the Jarvis was a man of many talents. Louise Wenner helped them on with the parachutes. Bernard complained that he wasn’t allowed to take an acoustic with him to work on a new song while they flew to Essex. Brett checked everybody's parachutes and gave the thumbs up. The plane left the hangar and skidded round to face the start of the runway. "Everyone ready for take-off?" shouted Jarvis against the noise of the engine. Then he put on the headphones. "This is Jarvis in the Ziggy 1, ready for take off." Tower gave clearance and the Dakota gathered speed. As the plane reached V1, Jarvis turned on the inflight music and the sound of "Waterloo Sunset" flooded the cabin until he said he had put the wrong tape in, and the song changed to "Heroes". It seemed somehow appropriate. About twenty minutes into the flight, the Bowie mix tape that Jarvis was playing stopped with a high pitched squeal. Louise quickly ejected the tape so that nobody thought it was a hitherto unreleased cut from the Low sessions. She then rummaged through the canvas bag beside her seat and put on the soundtrack from Apocalypse Now, as she had a sense of humour. In the cabin Bernard was humming a new tune while Brett tapped his hands on his knees to keep time. Damon was asleep and the Girl was looking scared. The flight was taking longer as they had to skirt central London now that overflying was no longer allowed, or they risked being hounded by two Tornado jets from Northolt. Bernard stopped suddenly. "What's that noise?" Then he realised he had spoken a out of character: "........" he added. Brett stopped tapping his hands. "Yes, I can hear it too. It's getting louder." Then Louise came back from the cockpit. "Sorry guys," she said. "Jarvis isn’t that good a navigator. We seem to be somewhere over the City. The noise you can hear is the sound of two jets in the distance approaching us. Jarvis is trying to explain why the plane is where it is, and he's er not doing that well, I'm afraid." "Oh that's fucking great." Brett stood up, and gave Damon a kick. "Wake up Blur boy, we're about to be forced down, or shot down with missiles." Damon woke up and fumbled for his B&H. "What?" he said. "Wake up, time to die," Brett said pointing out of the window. Damon looked and nearly dropped his cigarette. "Out there are two jets and in a few minutes Jarvis will have to land at Stansted or we get trashed mid air." "Shit." Damon stood up to take a closer look. "It doesn't look good, does it?" "It looks as good as The Great Escape," Brett said. Louise had gone back to the cockpit during this discussion. The Girl had lit a silk cut and was puffing away. Louise reappeared. "Jarvis says he can make it to Canvey Island, so get ready. He's discussing britpop with the lead pilot and it seems we are in luck. Jarvis is telling him some funny story about Bernard -" "What do you say?.....A story....A funny story....?" Bernard looked concerned. Brett raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The Girl gazed straight at Brett and reddened again. Brett smiled back. The Girl lit another silk cut and puffed it alight. Damon was still looking out of the window. "Oh look, they are veering off, they must be fans of Richard. Haha." Bernard suddenly wrapped his arms around himself and stopped speaking altogether. The Girl stood up and went and sat next to him. "You've hurt his feelings now. Damon give him your guitar. Maybe if he plays it for a while he will feel better." "Is this wise?" Damon asked. "I mean he could do that Arse Felt Whirl song and make it last 30 minutes." "Give him the guitar, Damon, there's a mate," said Brett. "If you're lucky, I may sing along." "Must you?" Damon sat down and folded his arms with a glum expression on his face. "I'll sing," said the Girl. "Be my guest, love," said Brett. "I'm going to listen anyway." Bernard tuned the guitar and began with a simple tune based around an Em-A-G-Em-A-G-Em-A sequence. Followed by C-G "Bernard, I thought you said you wouldn't play We Are The Pigs?" said Brett in surprise. By then everyone had joined in, even Jarvis and Louise, who had muted the tape. The jets had left, and there they were flying to Canvey Island singing We Are The Pigs.

  Brett scratched his head. "Are you sure that would work, Bernard? I mean we want you to land in one piece." "Let him do it," said Damon, dryly, flicking the ash from his pre-drop cigarette. The Girl was holding on to his arm puffing another silk cut to life, the floor of the Dakota was littered with cigarette butts. "It's never been done before. Well from 7500 feet anyway. I can always get a new guitar." "Well...I just have to play this again... I am sure if I asked somebody in the street, or tescos... yes... biscuits." The music hushed, and Louise came through to the cabin again. Jarvis's voice came over the pa system. "I am now on the drop run. Louise, open the door now, please. It will get very windy." The door was opened. Whoosh, all the cigarette butts and sweet wrappers flew out of the doorway. A light above the door flashed red, then green. They had decided that Brett would go first, followed by the Girl, then Damon, then finally, Bernard. Louise gave Brett a wry smile. "Good luck with the new album," she said, and then shouted, "GO!" and Brett bundled out of the door, waiting five seconds to clear the aeroplane and then pulling the ripcord. The wind was knocked out of him as the parachute inflated. He looked below him seeing the lights of the Essex coast, the fire flares of the Mobil Refinery to the West and the island itself spread out like a map with little flickering orange lights. The wind whistled past his face, he could feel it in his hands gripping the straps. Above him he could see the Girl and Damon, and then just as he blinked, he saw Bernard whizzing down riding a skyboard, playing So Young on the guitar as he whizzed past. It was a memory he would never forget. Then the parachute opened and the guitar playing stopped. He hoped the guitar would make it in one piece considering it had a built in 50 watt amp in the sound box. The four of them floated down and in the distance they saw the Dakota turning towards London. At that precise moment they could see the moon in the sky and a few clouds, and what looked like an old world war two fighter plane, racing towards the Dakota. "Oh fuck," Brett said. "Now the stupid bugger is going to get shot down." He watched helpless as the Spitfire zoomed on towards the Dakota, and then he could hear the sound of machine gun fire. However, what he didn’t know was that Jarvis had added something rather special to the Dakota. It was a 50mm cannon, firing a mixture of tracer and armour piercing rounds. He saw a line of white dart out from the Dakota, and the Spitfire flipped over and dived, it had had enough. Now there was anti aircraft fire. Things looked very bad. The Dakota caught one on the tail, and began descending rapidly towards Old Leigh, but the tide was out. Maybe maybe they could land on the mud.... Then he saw the ground come up rapidly, and braced himself. Brett hit the ground feet together and barrelled expertly. Bernard had already folded his parachute, and was playing Animal Nitrate quietly. Damon landed behind him and the Girl a moment later. Everyone was down safely. Except. "I saw Jarvis's plane get shot down -" said Brett. "Is he all right?" asked Damon. "I think so, he went in by the cockle sheds, I think he bellied the plane so I hope he and Louise are okay. If they are they should be able to get to Southend where they can mingle with the people in the street there. Hopefully they wont get picked up." "I'm hungry and thirsty... I need a cup of tea...." Bernard said finishing the song with a flourish. "Jarvis....yes...he will be okay....I am sure, he always lands on his feet." "Guys," the Girl said, worried. "There's a jeep about half a mile away heading towards us quite fast." "People we have to move....on," said Bernard, placing the guitar in the gigbag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Leave the chutes," said Damon, "they will only slow us down." "We are moving. Now," said Brett and they all hurried away to the edge of town, having landed in a farmer's field.

  The four of them found an open all hours tea rooms and wandered in to find an empty table by the window. They were taking a chance, Damon muttered darkly about curfews and being asked for a pass of some sort like a wristband or something. It was apparent that it was no Theme Park the Gallaghers were involved with but a huge Rock Festival. Pasted in the window was a poster that told them a festival was due to open in a day's time. The tea rooms were off from the main street down aways from the Haystack pub. Bernard had a cup of tea and then mentioned that there might be a local resistance already setup and maybe they could help get the tapes back. Brett shook his head. "Look at the charts, Bernard. Nobody cares about music anymore, they buy whatever is in fashion." The Girl sipped her coffee slowly as it was very hot, and the milk bottle had only kissed the side of the mug the coffee was in. Damon lit up then drank his tea slowly, while taking the odd puff of his B&H. The tea rooms had a juke box and it was playing Bryan Ferry's Will You Love Me Tomorrow. It added to the air of pathos. It was also bloody cold outside. Brett had an idea. "Can you play bass, Damon? And you Girl, can you play the drums as well as Simon." Damon put down his teacup suddenly. "Of course!" The he took another puff of his cigarette. "Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?" The Girl admitted that she used to drum in an indie band a few months ago, so that would be fine. "Blues....brothers....." said Bernard. " But don't expect me to play Everybody though. It's not my cat out of the bag.....nice tea this." "Yes, Damon, I am forming a band and we are entering the festival. We'll need a name for the band though. It should help pass the time till morning." The Girl lit a silk cut and then pointed to the packet she had taken a cigarette from. "Would this do? Could we play under the name Silk Cut?" "I like it," said Damon. "It's a start," said Brett. "What do you think Bernard?"

Bernard finished his tea. He looked up, paled and tried to hide under the table. The door to the tea rooms opened and three heavy set men wearing black nylon bomber jackets walked in, on the back of their jackets was the word GFORCE, and one of them wore an identity tag on a lanyard around his neck. Damon almost spat his tea out, Brett stared at the menu and the Girl smiled sweetly at the bald one who had noticed them all sitting at the table. "Hello, love," the G Man said, fumbling in his jacket pockets for his Royals. He lit a cigarette, then turned to the two with him. "I fancy a pie tonight, what say we go to the Pie shop?" The other two grumbled and then followed him out, the G man winked at the girl and then they were gone. "What the fuck just went down?" Brett demanded. "Is there something we should know?" The Girl smiled. "That was my second cousin Alf. He knows me, and once a while back I lent him a copy of Meet The Beatles so I guess he owed me one. I think we should leave and make ourselves scarce. Maybe we can steal a car." "Is..Are .. they gone yet?" Bernard asked from under the table. Upon being reassured that the Security men had indeed gone, he resumed his seat again. "Good. Silk cut is good....I say we adopt for now." "It's bloody freezing out there," Damon said, waving his hand at the window. "If we don't find a place to kip we will freeze." The tea room proprietor came over to their table and winked at the Girl. "Hello you," he said. The three men turned and with one accord said "What?" "Ex boyfriend." "If you need to doss here, that's fine, I have a spare room upstairs with some sleeping bags left over from our last trip." "Thank you." The Girl stood up and went over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. The proprietor stifled a sob, and made a show of clearing the table. "Bernard, don't play anything off your first album. It would be unwise." "Why ever not...does he hate my music?" "No, it's just that 'Yes' is kinda special to him, ok?" Bernard looked like he had been scalded then made a lop sided grin. "This way, please," the Girl's Ex said. "You will find clean t shirts in the cupboard. And please, no guitar after 3am, even I have to sleep sometime." * "Cor, it smells a bit in here," said Damon choosing the space by the window, that he opened, leaned out of and lit a cigarette. "Hmm, it's cold out, but it won't snow." "Which bag do you want Girl?" asked Brett, eyeing the bag nearest the door. The Girl chose the one next to Damon's and Bernard flopped down on the one next to it. Brett smiled to himself. The bag he wanted was the one he was left with. After a while Bernard began playing his guitar and Brett fell asleep listening to Bernard play See You In The Next Life. Damon and the Girl sat up for a while talking, smoking and exchanging meaningful looks. Damon finished his cigarette and kissed the Girl goodnight on her forehead as she was asleep by now. He looked over at Bernard who was looking very tired. "Does he always snore?" "Not always, sometimes he talks about stuff, music in his sleep." "Goodnight Bernard." "Goodnight Damon." "Sleep tight." "And you." "Oh for fuck's sake, shut the fuck up and go to sleep," snapped Brett awaking suddenly. "And I don't snore."

  *

  Bernard was the first to awaken, he sniffed the air in the room curiously, then turned to Brett who was pretending to sleep and asked: " Um, have you...farted...?" Brett rolled over in his sleeping bag to face him. His face was wreathed in a sweaty smile, like he had been dreaming of playing Glastonbury 1993. "Does it smell of onions?" Brett asked. "If it does, it wasnt me." Bernard shook his head, reached out for his guitar and began playing the chords to the Next Life. "No.. not onions... more like beef and carrots." At that point Damon woke up with a start. "All this talk of food is making me hungry. What's that smell?" Brett chuckled. "Someone has farted, and nobody wants to admit who it is. Maybe its the Girl." "I hope not matey," Damon replied quickly, "I hope to some day make her the happiest girl in the world." "Really?" Brett was puzzled. "I never thought you were the type to settle down with a mortgage and a kid." Damon lit a Benson. "I mean none of your songs show that you're that sort of guy." Damon coughed. "I am not. I was going to give her a copy of our lost album, the one Graham hid three years ago in the British Library Reading room. It's only on tape and even then we had to tape over my copy of REM Epynomous to do it." "No great loss," Brett said. "I mean REM not the tape itself." The Girl woke up at that point, and leered longingly at Damon's cigarette. "Can I have a smoke?" She asked him, Damon obliged by throwing the battered gold packet over to her. Bernard finished playing his song and then broke wind very heavily, so that for a moment everyone apart from Bernard thought he had followed through. "It must be me then... biscuits and gravy...tescos," he paused. "Blueberries, better than sex." The other three looked at him (strangely. "You always shop at Sainsburys," Brett said. "Is there something you need to tell us?" Bernard shook his head. "I recycle my... carrier... bags...love and rockets." Bernard stood up and went over to the window to look out. Brett joined him. "There appears to be a riot going on down the street, some shops are boarded up and the terraces are fenced in, and see-through shields are walled across the way we came in." Brett said. Damon finished his cigarette, lit another, then announced: "The Girl and I are going to Burger King, you're welcome to join us." Then he too joined Brett and Bernard at the window, and looked out. "That's no riot. It's the Bono motorcade in a traffic jam at the lights, look you can see the Bonomobile with its bullet proof glass surround, looks like a overweight invalid carriage to me..." They continued to watch as about twenty black cars swept past in the street, with the crowd throwing flowers at the Bonomobile, and some even prostrating themselves by the kerb. "I wonder why the Gallaghers want to see the Bono?" Damon asked. "It's rare to see him in Essex as it is. Maybe he's granted them audience." "Who knows?" Brett said, lighting a cigarette and breathing the smoke out of the window. "Wait a second, something's happening on the street below, some people are pointing at a window, and (there was a loud explosion and the Bonomobile disintegrated) someone has just fired a bazooka at the Bonomobile. The cars have stopped, people are running about." The air was filled with screams as another explosion rent the air, but apart from the Bonomobile nothing else was damaged. In fact it looked very much like the Bono hadn't even been in the Bonomobile, instead it appeared a complex animatronic edition of him had been blown up. Several men in dark suits and sunglasses were gathered around the destroyed Bonomobile. At that very point in time, the door to the room opened and in walked a very much dishevelled Jarvis. His purple suit was torn in three places and his hair was looking good. "Hello people, I have returned. Louise has been arrested by the Gallagher Secret police and has been taken for questioning, and somebody has been eating my porridge." He held out a half empty bowl of oatmeal. "I am not best pleased, so I lit a cigarette, and hid inside the wardrobe." Bernard looked at Brett, who looked at Damon, who looked at the Girl. "Captured...when..how...why?" Bernard asked. "Do you think she'll talk?" added Damon, putting his arms round the Girl's waist. Jarvis took a puff of his cigarette. "Only if she knows some guy called David who works in the garage up the road." Brett was beginning to get wise to the situation. "So you only went with her because she reminded you of...?" Jarvis nodded sadly. "I don't know what's happening to me," he said slowly, pausing for effect. " I am living my songs. It's horrible." "What can we do?" Brett asked, purposefully. "We could get him some more porridge," said the Girl, "that might help." "It always helps," Brett said.

It was at that precise moment that Kurt Cobain walked in through the door, carrying a guitar. "I was told you are forming a band, I should like to join. I haven't played for a while as you know...."