Rumors abounded of the strange goings on in room 103; then endless click-clacking of the typewriter; the dislocated moans of people on the point of breakdown. Meanwhile inside the smoky den 2D was still a bottomless pit of story lines.
2D: I’ve got a good idea. Here’s one. OK. It’s a film. It’s set in a beach town in America and unknown to the local residents and tourists there’s a giant killer shark lurking in the waters.
Murdoc shot 2D a murderous stare, quite clearly on the brink of violence.
Murdoc: That’s actually ‘Jaws’, you useless goon.
2D: Well, I’ve got one other.
Murdoc (exhausted): Don’t go into the whole thing. Just gimme the ‘Elevator Pitch’.
2D’s face lit up.
2D: Oh, OK, How about this? This is good. It’s about four people stuck in an elevator and they can’t leave until they come up with a good story for a film. It’s called ‘Elevator Pitch’. We could get Colin Farrell to play you.
Murdoc finally snapped.
Murdoc: AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! What the hell are we doing? We’re musicians. Not scriptwriters. This is a joke!
2D: Well, it doesn’t have to be Colin Farrell. We could ask Jack Black.
Murdoc exploded, lunging at 2D. Grabbing his twig-like throat with both hands he began throttling the hapless singer, squeezing the very life out of him. Russel stood up, raising himself to his full height
Russel: Put him down Muds. Now.
Murdoc, oblivious to the potential danger of a riled-up Russel Hobbs, continued his vicious and merciless assault. 2D’s head was thrown from side to side.
Russel: I said PUT HIM DOWN MURDOC. BEFORE I DO SOMETHING WE’RE ALL GONNA REGRET.
Noodle too leapt to her feet, throwing herself between Murdoc and 2D. She bit hard into Murdoc’s hand, trying to get him to release his stranglehold, but the red mist had come down and Murdoc held on tight. 2D’s face had now turned a deep shade of blue, matching the colour of his spiky hair. If he’d had eyes, they’d be popping right out of his head by now.
Russel: I AIN’T GONNA TELL YOU AGAIN. DROP HIM!
2D: URKKKAGH! UKKERRKK!! ACKKKAK!!!
Russel lifted up his big medicine-ball sized fist and bought it crashing down upon the bass players head. Murdoc dropped to the floor like a stringless puppet.
Freed from Murdoc’s grip, 2D collapsed back onto the sofa and began gasping for air, his puny pigeon-chest sucking up deep desperate lungfuls…
Murdoc, still dazed, sat up, swaying, birds tweeting around his throbbing cranium. A moment passed before he shook himself back to consciousness. Everyone realised that a big, big line had been crossed. Being humiliated in front of his own band was a step too far for Mr Murdoc Niccals. He’d bought this band to the top of the charts, around the world and all the way to Hollywood. And this is how they chose to repay him? He didn’t need these ungrateful muppets anymore. He’d be way better off on his own.
Murdoc: So this is how it is now, huh? Right then, my comrades. Enough’s enough. It’s been an incredible ride for all of us, especially me, but this is my stop. You lot lost the plot a long time ago. There’s no way I can carry your sorry backsides anymore.
Murdoc, his eyes ablaze with vitriol and venom, pointed his bony nicotine-encrusted finger right into 2D’s face.
Murdoc: And you, you little blue-haired pigmy sod boy, are way too stupid to be alive. Let this be known, you’ve been a curse of banality since I first laid eyes on you. If it weren’t for your precious vocals, I’d have strangled you into a box years ago.
He looked round the room at the others, and sneeringly offered them a last salute.
Murdoc: Happy life and all that, you losers. I’ll see you on the other side. Ciao!
The door slammed behind him. And with that final kiss-off, Murdoc checked out of the hotel, checked out of the rented house and checked out of the band.
Gorillaz were over.