There’s a guy with ratty hair and skinny jeans drinking a Coopers Pale and leaning against a wall. The pub’s hot and everyone’s sweating. The guy with the ratty hair closes his eyes and thinks about the song lyrics he has to sing soon. He actually says a couple under his breath. The bouncer watches a girl walk past and thinks, ‘Jesus Christ.’ The guy with the ratty hair keeps his eyes closed and continues singing to himself. The bouncer sees a drunk, homeless guy standing inside the pub drinking a Coopers Pale. The guy with the ratty hair feels someone shaking his shoulders and then pulling him out of the pub. The guy with the ratty hair feels his neck suffer minor whiplash when he’s told to, ‘Fuck off.’ A car passes. The sun’s overhead. There is the smell of stale ashtrays. The guy with the ratty hair lights a cigarette. The bouncer wonders how long he has to wait before he can hit the homeless guy for trespassing. The guy with the ratty hair exhales. He says, ‘You got the wrong idea, mate. I’m in the band.’ The bouncer doesn’t know what to do. He lets the guy back in. An hour later the guy with the ratty hair is on stage. The bouncer pretends not to enjoy it but he really enjoys it.