Telstar: The Joe Meek Story

Joe! I need for you to come inside now!

Comin'!

No, now!

Your father's having one of his turns.

In a minute!

'..A minute... A minute... A minute...'

'A minute... A minute... A minute... A minute...'

'60s BEAT MUSIC

'Next week on Harper's West One, special guest star

'John Leyton, star of Biggles as you've never seen him before.

'That's Thursday, eight o'clock, Harper's West One.'

'..and a very special good morning to the housewife at number 26...'

Hello?

- Would sir need any assistance? - I'm... They're recording my song.

Well, then, you'll do. I need to have a word about my ceiling.

- Sorry, I can't... - I'm the landlady. This is my building. - ..Help. - Pardon?

- I can't help. I only just... - It's none of my business,

but they've had some very odd types up there.

My Albert won't stand for it.

As long as they keep themselves to themselves, but this takes the biscuit!

- What do you make of that? It's all black and treacly. - Yes.

- Some sort of glue. They've only been here a fortnight. - Oh, dear.

Had some terrible complaints from the neighbours about the noise.

Grown men playing silly beggars with records.

I only hope it doesn't add up to nothing.

Actually, I've already bought two.

You should see the state of it up there.

I'm never going to be able to let it again now, am I? You're a quiet one, aren't you?

- Sorry. Just a bit... - Shy? Not much good for a pop star.

- Actually, I'm classically trained. Biggles is doing my song. - Biggles?

- Off the telly. - Of course he is, dear. Now, come on. Let's find trouble.

Yes, let's.

How many musicians am I paying for? For God's sake.

Oh, Major, you'll do. I've had a disaster in my stockroom.

Just arrived myself, Violet, dear.

- Joe will be down as soon as he's spotted. - Thank you.

Must crack on, woman, crack on!

Here, I've had some very nice oxblood belts in,

go lovely with them brogues.

- Ta-ra! - Anton, isn't it? - Sorry? - Anton Hollywood, pianist? - Yes.

- Well, no. - Well, I'm afraid Joe's decision is final,

he doesn't feel you've got what it takes.

And if you've come for compensation, you can trot off back to wherever the hell...

No, it's Geoff, not just Geoff. Geoff Goddard.

- Oh! The author! Tunesmith! - Composer. - Composer, yes, of course.

The name Anton Hollywood was Joe's idea, it's not real.

It's a stage name. He thought he'd do a Russ Conway with me, didn't work out.

So you're Goddard, are you? Read Goddard, didn't think Hollywood.

- No, well, you wouldn't. - Don't slouch, young man! Upright! Shoulders back!

Splendid song!

In fact, I wanted to thank you for the opportunity, really.

- This is a very good...opportunity. And... - Very touching.

It's Joe you should thank. He's the one that spotted your talent.

I know Fanny Adams about the tunes. I just pull the purse strings.

- I'm in plastics. - Really? - Yes, my son took me to a record shop, selling like hot cakes.

What's his name? Lonnie? Larry? Big nose, curly hair, plays the broom.

- Donegan? Lonnie Donegan? - That's the chap! Expanding market, see?

Good business opportunity. Met Joe, thought, "That's my boy.

"He knows his Indians." Anyway, it's him you should thank.

TOILET FLUSHING

< That'll be the last time anyone uses that this morning.

< Carry on singing, I'll be back in a minute.

Oh, hello, Geoff! I know what you're thinking, why are they singing in the toilet?

Well, once I've worked my magic and added some reverb,

it'll sound more like a...like a cathedral! Do you need to go?

- No. It would be embarrassing in front of everyone singing. - Speaking of which, backup singers, that is.

- I've had a quick look at the figures. Are you sure you need them? - Course we need them! - And an orchestra?

Oh, it's hardly an orchestra. Two violins and Charles on his mum's old cello. You all right, Charles?

- I've been better. - Harper's West One is getting 10 million viewers.

They're all going to hear Geoff's song, it's our first good chance for a hit, so it can't be shoddy.

Have you...?

(I think we should leave.)

- Have you read the West One script yet? - No.

- Well, John plays a pop singer called Johnny Sincere. Isn't that a great name? - Top drawer!

- And he opens a record department with your song. - Who'd have thought, Biggles? - He's Ginger. - Sorry?

Johnny Leyton in Biggles. Plays Ginger. Boy's a big fan.

BANGING AND SHOUTING

Geoff, come here. Excuse me, Charles, ladies.

Take the speaker, point it out that window towards the backyard.

All the other windows are soundproofed. And I'll need that.

Drop dead, you silly, old fucker!

- Oh, God! - All right, you can close the window and put the speaker back, now. There's a love.

Is he coming down? >

- Can you talk to her? I'm far too busy right now. - Yes, it's best you crack on.

Well done, Geoff, I hope we'll be seeing a lot more of you.

Joe!

He gave you that speech about not slouching, didn't he?

I'm sorry about Anton Hollywood, Geoff. You could have been Reading's own Liberace.

That would have been nice(!)

But the real Liberace don't make those little piggy, grunty noises when he plays, does he?

Really, it's fine.

They're awkward to record around, ugly to watch. Shame. You're a wonderful musician.

- Lovely looking boy. - Well, I'm sure this one will sound wonderful. I wanted to thank you.

- No need to thank me, Geoff. It's a good tune. - You did such a wonderful job with Lonnie Donegan.

SKIFFLE MUSIC

MUSIC STOPS ABRUPTLY

Well, the royalties from those tunes helped set this place up.

- Let's hope you get some royalties from your little tune. - Well, that would be nice.

CAR HORNS

I know it's a little impractical, with the stairs and the traffic, but...

It's got a very strong...energy.

Yes! I was going to say that.

TRAFFIC NOISE

- Keep your hair on! - How would you like a smack in the mouth?

THUNDER

Can I ask? I don't mean to be rude. Something unusual I heard about you.

Go on, I won't bite.

About you and Buddy Holly. About his death. Your prediction.

Yeah. Well, it came to me. A message.

- A warning for Buddy. - Tragedy. Great loss.

I give him a note backstage. I warned him. I told him the date.

If only he'd listened.

- Do you still try to...communicate? - When I have time.

LOUD VOICES

- Perhaps you'd like to join me? - I'd love to.

Here comes the cavalry.

- You selfish, skinny runt. - Those bastard stairs. I've done me sodding back. - You can shut your cakehole.

I've got to bring the rest of the kit up, yet.

- It's not the kit, it's having to lug that fat arse. - Watch your mouth!

- Watch your diet! - You want to fuck right off! - Ladies and gentlemen, Flanagan and Allen.

- Oi, Joe, it's pissing down out there. - Really?

- Has anybody got a towel? I'm drenched. - I'm going to have a crap.

- I'll bring a towel back down with me. - No, you won't. I have a girl singing backing up there.

- It's vital for her singing that she's able to breathe in. - Who's got the arse now?

FARTING

Nearly shat meself!

You do that again, I'll find something to plug the hole with!

This is the band.

What they lack in looks, they make up for in charm.

I've warned you about those ridiculous costumes!

Now...! Oh, good God, what is that! It's like a rotting trout! Come here, take those off right now!

SINGER WARMING UP

Good Lord!

- And you are? - Singing. - Of course. - Sorry about that.

- Last time I got pissed on in this getup, my nipples and armpits went all black. - You are a soapy bastard.

- Joe, I thought we discussed this? - Oh, shush!

Took a week to get the stains off. Carbolic, I had to use.

Why don't you use an umbrella?

- Cos cowboys didn't have umbrellas. - No, and I bet they didn't have black armpits, either.

- Take off those ridiculous cowboy suits! - They look wonderful.

- I will not pay another fine for their antics! - Marvellous publicity.

- Getting your collar felt isn't marvellous. - No-one felt your collar.

No, they get all black fingers.

I don't see how a brush with the law can be bad press for a band called The Outlaws. Can it, Geoff?

I don't know what anyone's talking about, or who anyone is.

Oh, really, Joe! Geoffrey, Billy Kuy, Mr Clem Cattini.

- And the smelly bastard's Chas Hodges. - The Outlaws!

- This is Geoff, he wrote the song. - Hope you like it.

- Oh, it's your song? Lovely! - Thank you.

So you're not really cowboys?

- No. - You want to watch him, he'll have you on top of a 19 bus with your pants round your ankles

if he thinks it'll shift a few records.

- Would he? - Is that entirely necessary?

Last month, when we released Swing Low as a single?

Joe had us in all the clobber, on a fucking stagecoach,

driving around Piccadilly, blasting out the tune.

Then he turns around, and says, "I know, why don't we stick up the HMV and nick our own record!"

We burst in, these two cowards fuck off!

I'm left there, with a cap gun up the counter girl's hooter like The Lone Wanker.

Marvellous press!

- Yet, but guess what? - Never even heard of us.

I had to play the racket to the desk sergeant to keep you out of prison!

Now, all of you change out of these outfits immediately!

< Coo-ey! Joe?

Joe, look! Oh, hello, boys!

Afternoon, Mrs Jensen, all right?

- Lovely shirts. Don't you look smart? - Thanks. - You're all wet. Should have used a brolly.

Cowboys didn't have brollies.

Now, look. I know you're busy, but I've got a bone to pick with you, and you.

What have you done to my windows?

My stock room ceiling's all black and treacly, and Mr Brolin's downstairs in his pyjamas.

- He says you swore at him. - He started it!

- Pardon? - He yelled at me, and I yelled back.

I can't repeat in front of these young boys the type of filthy language he was using.

That's what a recording studio is for, is it?

Give you two the chance to play silly buggers and scare my neighbours?

He's ever so upset, he works shifts!

Yeah, don't we all! Shut up!

- If he can't take it, he shouldn't dish it out. - Yeah, well, what about my ceiling?

That's why your ceiling is all black and treacly,

cos I poured a tin of liquid rubber through the floorboards. For soundproofing.

Soundproofing, you see! It's for the greater good.

Gave me ever such a stir. It's all gone runny, and there's flies sticking to it.

Don't fret, Violet, dear. We'll have someone pop round and rub that rubber off.

But it will have to be later on.

I do have a major television star, John Leyton, coming round any second now.

As you can see, I'm rushed off my feet.

Him off Biggles? Now I understand. Yes, sorry. I thought you were a bit soft.

Oh, I'd love to meet him!

You'll have all the big stars passing through here, Violet.

Why don't you pop downstairs, make a nice pot of tea and the Major can introduce you when he gets here?

- I'll tell him you're sorry. - Who? - Mr Brolin, your neighbour.

- Tell him to shove his bin lids... - Yes, splendid. A pot of tea. After you, Violet.

All right, Fred. Pick us up at about three.

Are you sure, sir? No offence, sir.

- It seems like a right shithole. - Yeah, let's make it 1:30.

- How are we doing, boys? - Nearly there.

Right, I want to set up the mics downstairs, I want to be ready to go when I get back.

He's fucking barmy!

- You playing that old Joanna? - Yes. Is it in tune?