In My Life

It's been a hard day's night

Whatever Paul had imagined the toppermost of the poppermost to look like, this wasn't it and by the look on George's face, the Benjamin of the band thought exactly the same thing.

Their journey had been very long and demanding. Ten people in one van had bore a striking resemblance to one of those sketches on the box, where they'd fit a large number of clowns into a small car. Except they weren't trying to fit inside for a laugh; they were driving from Liverpool to Harwich via London, and then through the Netherlands to Hamburg. The fun had worn off before they even reached Woollyback territory. The van didn't even have enough seats, so they were forced to sit on their amps, squeezed tightly together. They spent most of the bumpy ride struggling to keep their balance.

They endured by telling themselves it would all be worth it once they arrived at their destination. Saying the reality was a tad disappointing was a gross understatement. They were incredibly excited when they reached Hamburg, it all looked so foreign and impressive. Finding the Indra club was a challenge, and when they did reach it, they really felt out of sorts. John, Stuart, George, Pete and Paul were still knackered from the long journey when they took the unfamiliar stage. All of a sudden, they didn't feel all that tough anymore, so they stood huddled together throughout their show, managing little more than a lacklustre performance in front of the unimpressed audience consisting of a handful of prostitutes and their 'company'. When Paul saw his own doubts reflected back at him in George's eyes, he found himself wondering what they'd gotten themselves into.

Their sleeping quarters, if one could call it that, was a small, cold room with bare walls and two bunk beds in the back of some obscure cinema, or Kino as the Gerries called it. The place was little more than a storage room, nothing short of filthy, and situated adjacent to the loos. Still, it was better than not having a place to sleep at all. Since there were five of them and only four beds, they decided to take turns co-sleeping, which made for some hilarious moments. Top-and-tailing meant that every now and then, someone got kicked in the face in the middle of the night. John was the first to have the questionable honour.

"Bloody murder! Bloody murder!" John's dramatic scream tore the other four rudely from their slumbers. Stuart nearly jumped out of his skin and managed to just barely prevent falling out of the top bunk above Pete. George stuck his head over the edge of his bed, looking blearily down at John and Paul. "Eeee, I was havin' such a good dream! What seems to be the problem, Johnny?"

John responded by grabbing Paul's ankle. He made a wild gesture, causing Paul's foot to flop about comically. "Macca tried to bash me 'ead in with this gnarly thing! I'm tellin' ye man, there's no getting' over this 'horrible attempt at me life!"

George jumped to the floor like a cat and positioned himself on the edge of the bottom bunk. He studied Paul's foot with an air of serious investigation. "Well, this does look rather fiendish," he said in an exaggerated posh accent. He poked at the offending appendage a bit, causing Paul to squirm, unable to free himself from John's tight grip. "I do declare the suspect is guilty of the alleged crime. Case closed."

Paul struggled to hold back the fit of laughter that was bubbling in his chest. "Fiendish? Really?" He placed the back of his hand to his forehead and flopped down in a dead faint, much like an actress on the silver screen. Pete and Stu hurried over in feigned concern, fanning Paul with their hands, who came out of his 'fainting spell' with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Y'know what's fiendish, Geo? Yer unibrow! I wouldn't be surprised it it's wanted for murder!" Laughter erupted around the room at that comment.

George swatted at Paul and his voice rose half an octave when he blurted, "'Ang on a mo'! I don' have a unibrow!" Another round of laughter bounced off the walls.

"Well, you sort of do, son," John chuckled, "but Paulie here can sub ye his tweezers an' teach ye ter make 'em all nice like." In response, Paul threw his jacket, which he used as a pillow, at John's face. "'Ar 'ey! I don't pluck me eyebrows! Yer just jealous of me good looks."