Ex Drummer

I've got to say, I can cope with lots of different feelings at once.

I can be totally happy yet quite ill at the same time.

I'm really consumed with doubts about life and also a disregard for death.

This combination is perfectly possible if your spirit is strong, if you're robust.

I mean, for someone who wants to fight to the bitter end...

and is as cynical as the King of Siam.

Someone like me.

I've got that in me, that doubting and moods that change.

I'd even go as far as to say that those feelings dictate my work.

Yes.

Apart from that, I just blunder along. Looking to see which way the wind is blowing...

and making sure I don't crack up. That's all.

The price of fame?

It's a strange phenomenon.

I make no secret of the fact that I live in Ostend...

and people do come and bother me now and then.

Some even go as far as ringing the doorbell and asking for an autograph.

Sometimes there are young chicks who think I'll want to fuck them.

Strange people, strange visitors. Like yesterday.

Three handicapped guys came round yesterday.

Real losers.

And they were handicapped as well.

They had a rock band Without a drummer and were looking for a drummer.

I asked how come they'd come to me...

and the first one said that his mother had thought of me.

The second one shouted that he'd heard I was good at drumming.

The third one didn't say anything.

He just sat there, staring at my girl.

Dangerous guy.

He was the singer.

And his handicap was a speech impediment. He spoke with a lisp.

Usually you can't really refer to a lisp as a handicap but in his case you could.

He'd also been to prison for assault. More than once.

He said that assault was kind of his job at the time.

Koen De Geyter mainly used to beat up women.

The arrogant fucking bitches.

I'd like to drag their kissers open, if you get me.

The way they take a drag on a cigarette. You ever seen one take a drag, huh?

- Have you? - Yes.

Every day.

How they suck on it with their stupid lips!

I'd like to drag them open! Get what I mean? Get it?

Watch 'em next time. I've seen 'em. I'm not taking that!

And how they always step in the puddles when it rains.

Never round them, in them. As if they don't see the puddles.

Really? Can't say I've ever noticed that. And how they use the phone.

Ever noticed that? How they use the phone?

A bitch on a phone...

I'd like to beat the hell out of her.

I'd like to shove the phone down their kisser!

And when they park, right?

They're finally parked okay...

and then they go forward a bit. And backward a bit.

And then forward again.

And backward again.

And forward again.

And backward again.

And then they're parked okay.

The second one had a stiff arm. Well, he had an arm he couldn't bend.

He was also gay, although he didn't really look like a faggot.

He was the one who kept on about his mother...

which made me decide that his interminable mother complex...

could also be regarded as a handicap.

His name was Jan Verbeek...

And he was the first and only child of Gaston and Suzanne Verbeek.

His future looked bright in a world like this one.

And the family bathed in bliss, as it were.

But then it all went wrong.

And how come Jan's got a stiff arm...

and his mother is bald, I don't know.

But Koen says that it's to do with Jan's first love.

Apparently it was a traumatic experience.

My arm! Go away.

One day, mowing his grass became too much for Pa Verbeek...

and from then on Jan had to do the household jobs.

Loser.

The third one was almost deaf.

Even though, at first glance, he looked blind.

His name is Ivan.

He was the guitarist with the band without a drummer.

Ivan thinks being deaf is the most ridiculous handicap someone can have.

Ivan wanted to become a rock star. Deaf people don't become rock stars.

"You're better off blind", he said. "You've got more chance.

A blind man playing is so pathetic you're behind him...

even if it's only out of pity. ”

He was married to Marleen...

and they had a child, Mia.

Look! What's this? What's this?

- I can't play without taking something. - I know, it's the same every week.

- What? - It's the same every week.

But it's gonna be my day today.

The guys were at the door. I just let them in.

What a bunch of losers.

They're handicapped. Just look at them.

Smell them. They stink.

That's fantastic, eh?

Three handicapped guys with a rock band Without a drummer looking for fame.

And success.

They want your success. That's obvious, isn't it?

Darling, we'll use them.

There's a story in this. What do you want?

We've been fans for ages.

We've seen you on TV, know your books...

interviews. You're quite well-known.

- We read that you could play the drums. - What?

- He can play the drums! - Yes, we need a drummer.

But I think there's a little problem.

- Is there? What? - Eh?

- What problem? - You're not handicapped.

Each band member has to have a handicap.

- But you knew I wasn't handicapped. - Doesn't have to be much.

A mole or a wart that you can't see.

- Dries, you haven't got a handicap. - What? What did she say?

That's it then, guys. No handicap, no drummer in your band.

- Yes, but can you drum? - He doesn't want to.

Can't he play the drums?

I'll think about it. Come back tomorrow, okay?

What?

He'll think about it. We can come back tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

Let's go!

- I told you. - We're off.

- He's much too clean. - I could only ask, eh?

You can see he's much too clean.

- Come on, De Geyter, now isn't the right time. - Yes!

- Dries speaking. - Koen De Geyter here.

- I forgot something. - What?

The band's only going to perform once.

Just one performance and that's it.

That's good.

Now that I've got you on the phone, I will join the band.

Really? Great.

- But what about the handicap? - I've got a handicap.

Quite a conspicuous one. I can't may the drums.

- Okay... - And We got a good name for the band.

- The Feminists. - The What? Feminists?

Yes, four handicapped guys are just as good...

as four feminist bitches. Get it?

Okay, yes. See you tomorrow. Say hello to Lio.

- Yes. - Yep.

See you tomorrow.

- Who was that? - Koen De Geyter.

What a sucker.

You say you can't play the drums and he just believes you.

- Well, I can't play the drums. - Sure you can.

And you can speak perfect French.

Why do you want to play with that fucking band?

I don't really know.

I think I want to test my luck.

Descend into the depths of stupidity, ugliness, obtuseness...

unfaithfulness and fake.

Latch onto the life of common people...

but without becoming a part of them...

and in the knowledge that I can always return to my own world.

And to you.

Ma?

Ma!

Ma? Have you gone deaf? Can't you answer?

Is that the next step? Are you going deaf?

This is Dries Vanhegen. This is my ma.

Are you the famous author?

- I haven't read any of your books. - A lot of people say that.

- That's the price of fame. - Is there anything to drink? Want a beer?

- No, thanks. - Is there any beer?

- You know where the fridge is. - I know!

- And where your stupid head is. - I have to check on Pa.

Go and check him then!

And you know there's no smoking indoors!

- Don't tell me! - Tell him...

Go and see Pa, you filthy slut!

I've had enough of you!

- Don't you want anything to drink? - No, thanks. What's up with your pa?

My pa? He's not well.

Now and then we have to check that he hasn't hurt himself.

Hurt himself?

Could he hang himself with an extension lead or something?

Come outside. I'll show you something.

Have you lived here long?

Of course, you can't compare it to where you live.

And your pa is upstairs?

We rehearse here.

We can make a row here. Shall I play something?

- Yes, go on. - Okay.

- Looks like a bar. - A bar?

Yes, with all that beer.

- Right. - We play here. Just a minute.

- Where did you learn that? - Dunno. Just tried it.

Just tried it, fucked around. How's Pa?

- He'd shit himself again. - Again? The filthy old bugger.

- I hear you can't play the drums? - No.

- Is there something you can do? - Yes.

I can see from a long way away if someone is wearing a wig.

- Get out! - Do something about your fridge, slut.

- Take him outside! Outside, I said! - I'm going.

- Hey, my arm! Calm down! Calm down! - Get out of here!

- Fucking whore! - Shut your face!

- Her wig is a bit of a sore point, right? - She doesn't always wear it.

What's up with your pa? Is he "I or what?

- Yes, he's... - Haven't you got a job?

I'm on the dole.