Oh dear. My friend Guy Hands has been beaten by a worm. But it's not the end of the world, is it? He still has his health. And he has his wealth, and he is still a young man [is he?] He has everything to live for. So let's hear no talk of suicide. [Suicide is painless.] Will you shut up?
I have been speaking with Guy. [A penny for the Old Guy! He's fifty-one, you know.] This is what was spoken between us: 'Mikey, I'm so depressed. This goodly frame the earth seems to me a sterile promontory. I might my quietus make, with a bare bodkin - if I can find one. (Guy, mate, you can cut that out right now! I don't want to hear this sort of talk from you.) I'm joking, man! I'm all right. (Are you sure, Guy?) Mikey, I'm going to live to fight another day. (That's more like it! That's what I want to hear.) And EMI will survive. (Will it?) We just need some new signings, some massive stars. (Do you need any songs, Guy?) Maybe. How's your Stacy-Marie song coming along? (Oh, it's going to be a classic. I reckon it will be a worldwide hit for someone.) Send it to me when it's finished. ("Oh, Stacy-Marie, you're such a lovely girl, Stacy-Marie, I want to -") Is that how it goes?! (No, that's just the dummy lyric. I'm going to come up with something better than that.) I should hope so. That was pathetic. (Guy, man, I haven't written a song for seventeen/eighteen years, so give me a chance, will ya? I'm a bit rusty.) All right, Mikey.'
"Stacy-Marie, I want to follow you everywhere." I'm a bit rusty, that's all. It's going to be a great song. It just needs some work. Thomas Edison didn't succeed with his light bulb at the first attempt, did he? [Comparing himself to Edison now. It's only a pop song.] Exactly! It's only a pop song. There's nothing to worry about.
