Killing Bono

Karl:
A word to the wise from an old man before you go. Remember only this: the measure of a man is what's left when fame falls away... oh, and another thing: get as much sex as you can!

Ivan McCormick:
You made the worst decision of my life!

Ivan McCormick:
So, fill me in, brother, how much are we into Danny Machin for?

Neil McCormick:
All in all? Thirteen grand. Give or take.

Ivan McCormick:
Thirteen grand? What is that? Five grand a kneecap and three for our heads?

Neil McCormick:
...That doesn't add up, Ivan.

Neil McCormick:
Hello? Hi, where is Hammond?

Rick:
Are you the new runners?

Neil McCormick:
No, no no, of course we are not the new runners. We're the McCormicks! We're Hammond's new act, we're just here to sign the old contracts.

Rick:
Hammond is history. Axed. Kept spunking cash into Kajagoogoo. I'm the new Hammond.

Neil McCormick:
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. What was the last thing he said before he left?

Rick:
Let me think uh... "I'm gonna sue you bastards right through the arsehole". Then he sort of... broke down. It was all very uncool.

Ivan McCormick:
Yeah but he did tell you about our deal?

Neil McCormick:
And the fifty grand advance?

Rick:
Oh yeah... it's ringing bells. Ding-a-ling-ling! But I would say a hundred's more realistic.

Ivan McCormick:
[surprised] A hundred grand?

Rick:
Yeah! I'll tell you what: You boys will look f***ing fantastic on camera! We'll do you a video to rival Duran Duran.

Neil McCormick:
Ok, yeah!

Rick:
And we'll shoot it ON THE MOON!

Ivan McCormick:
What? Really?

Rick:
NO! Not really! In fact, I'll tell you why you boys will never be signed to this label. You look like a pair of mental fortune tellers from a gypsy fair. And Hammond liked you, therefore, I hate you! I wouldn't sign you to this label if you paid me a hundred grand and let me John Paul Pope your mother.