The Da Club. Paul lies prone on the ground, as if dead. The Girls who line up along the front of the stage howl hysterically. They build shrines and hold up pictures. This is our Paul, how we have loved him. Paul recovers slowly, but realises the crippling indigence the ‘music’ now leaves him with is too paltry for his needs. Paul is unhooked from the Madman life support system He goes to live under the piano in Renards, armed with a tool box.

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Simon becomes a music pornographer. He records consenting chords caught in lewd acts of submission. Harmonies undressed, notes in soft focus, possibly naked. People do not know where to look, but are strangely drawn. Dee is a man of many talents, he and the erstwhile Paul play as Know Your Enemy. The people are the Enemy. The noise is awesomely devised. It is like a prearranged car crash, with the windows rolled down and the stereos pumping.

 

The band are under pressure. The rumours of record label interest at this point are regarded to be true, yet there is no manifestation of chequebook wielding ponytailed glamourpusses. To cheer everyone up, they disappear into the dark of the Funnel and play to the assembled faithful. It is the Saccharine release gig. Two million cds are thrown to music hungry crowds clamouring at the door. The band fling out morsels of bread and spit. The surge abates. They go home, tanked.