After The Glitter Fades.

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each chapter is named after the song that inspired it - includes how 'The Tears' was written.

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Cold Fame – Band Of Skulls

Contents

Cold Fame – Band Of Skulls

Julian spirals into a new cycle of despair…

I had called him fifty six times with still no answer. It had been three weeks. What was going on?

I was lying on my bedroom floor, surrounded by a hazy mass of empty whisky bottles and cigarette butts. I hadn’t showered since Noel had left and only ventured out of my room in the day to retrieve yet another bottle or pack.

At night I would grab my wallet, which was getting thinner by the day, and stumble out of the house, lumbering heavily through the blur of night clubs and bars and off-license stores, searching. Searching for something to fill the hole his departure had left in my soul. Sex, drugs, booze, anything.

I sighed and took another deep drag of my 5th cigarette that hour, coughing as I did. I didn’t normally smoke more than one or two in a night, and that was when I was out with Noel at a club or something, but I had to stock up on another four packs every night when I left the house.

The previous day and night had been exactly the same as every other of the last three weeks. I had woken from my drunken stupor at four in the afternoon, and realised that I had been sleeping on the hall carpet. I stumbled groggily to the bathroom to inspect the damage done fro yet another night of abuse.

I gazed at my reflection in the poor light. At first, when my spiral of self-deprecation had began, what I saw would have shocked me, but by now it had become just another monotonous, daily occurrence for me to confront, then forget in a haze of smoke and alcohol.

I had an impressive black eye, scratches up and down my left arm, dried blood around my mouth, and, I noticed with slight confusion, an earring. I had no idea how any of this had happened, or even when. It could have all been any time over the last weeks, as every night had now merged into one long string of demeaning and meaningless events.

I stared stupidly at the piercing for a few moments, then leant in towards the mirror and, taking very little care, pulled the diamond stud out and tossed it aside into the heap of crumpled clothes and spilt shampoo bottles.

I staggered back out of the bathroom, and on towards the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of Smirnoff from the cabinet, then, realising it was empty, threw it over my shoulder, hearing it smash against the tiled floor. I grabbed the bottle of rum which had been behind it, and sank down onto the floor, clutching it to my chest.

I had sat there, leaning heavily against the cupboard behind me, sipping from the bottle and staring into the distance, until I began to feel the cold, at which point I glanced up at the clock.

It was seven o’clock now. Time to go out for another meaningless night of… whatever.

I groped at the kitchen work-surface, holding myself steady as I stood up off the floor, hearing my knees crack and my head thump, as if in protest.

I stumbled to the bedroom, changed my shirt and underwear, leaving the dirty clothes crumpled on my bed, and, snatching my wallet from the bed-side table, fell out the front door towards the darkening street.

I meandered down the street, dipping in and out of clubs and bars, drinking constantly. In the third club I came to, I was standing at the bar ordering Noel’s favourite cocktail for myself, when I heard my name being called. I barely batted an eyelid, and turned slowly round on my bar-stool. A girl stood before me, smiling brightly.

“Julian Barratt?” She asked again shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, wow! Sorry, sorry, but…” She was clearly really excited, and probably trying to find the right way to ask for a fucking photo or autograph without seeming like a star-struck fan. I smiled mirthlessly as I thought to myself how anyone could think there was a way of asking for an autograph without sounding like a fan.

She was staring at me with wide blue eyes through a heavy fringe of dyed black hair. I began to notice a shocking resemblance between her and Noel. A lot of Boosh fans dressed like Noel, and she was no exception. She was wearing grey skinny jeans, silver boots, a tuxedo t-shirt, and it looked like all her jewellery was from tatty Devine. But there was something more; she had the right skin-tone, the right coloured eyes, the right way of loosely moving and ruffling her hair. She could have easily been the female, or at least more female, version of him.

When she asked for a picture, I agreed, then offered to buy her a drink. She giggled, sounding so much like Noel it gave me goose bumps, and accepted. Before I’d downed my second cocktail, we were getting off at the bar. By the third, she was pulling me towards the club bathroom.

I followed her dumbly, bumping into strangers and spilling drinks on the way. She wrenched me into one of the cubicles, and was on her knees tugging my jeans down round my calves before I even understood what was happening. I was too pissed to stop it or enjoy it, so I just stood there, thinking of anything but Noel.

As she stood up, wiping her mouth with a mixed look of shock and excitement, I asked her flatly “Do you… um… have anything?” She smiled even more broadly.

“Johnnies or Pills?”

“Fuck it, either…”

She turned and reached into her bag, pulling out two little plastic packets. One was labelled Durex; the other just had a few little white pills in it. I grabbed the second packet, tipped out 3 into the palm of my hand, and downed them dry.

She looked shocked at first as she watched me intently, then smiled again, taking the packet from me and doing the same.

“Now…” She pressed up against me, biting her lip. “Other packet?”

The whole club was a spiral of neon and voices as we spun through the heaving, sweating crowd to the door. Street, cab, home, door, floor, fuck.

I woke the next morning, and watched from the couch as she packed up her scattered clothes, made a cup of tea, and left.

I stayed on the couch thinking hard for an hour or so. She looked like Noel, she moved like Noel, she even smelt like Noel. But she wasn’t. She didn’t make the same noises as he did when she came. She didn’t scrape her nails along my back and bite her lip and stare at the ceiling like he did. She didn’t growl my name and give me goose bumps like him. She couldn’t replace a night with him. No one could.

I had never felt so lonely.

Surely he would talk to me if I went over to his?

I had to see him, but what would I say? I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that I couldn’t live without him, that without him I was an empty, hollow shell, just breathing and fucking and drinking, nothing else.

But now I knew he didn’t care about me at all, and regretted anything we’d ever done, there was no way I could ever tell him that, could I?

But I had to see him. I had to find out why he had left that day, why he had refused to talk to me since, why he didn’t care about me at all…

I deserved that at least.

What’s the point of fame if it’s been abused?
What’s a kid like me even got to lose?
Here I am on your bed again
It’s too big for the room it’s in.

Wash your face and mouth just a little bit,
Everybody knows that you’re good at it.
But nothing hurts like an answer phone,
Drinking some, waking up alone.

Maybe if I try just a little more,
I can take myself from this dirty floor.
Walk through buildings of elegance,
Just like you are intelligent.

But still I fall from grace with this microphone,
How’d you find yourself if you never roam?
Certainly I’m indebted baby, certainly, certainly…

I know my place, but it don’t know me.
I know my place, but it don’t know me.

No one wants to hear that you’re breaking up,
It wasn’t long ago we said start me up.
Now all your dreamin’ will have to wait,
What you deserve you’ll anticipate.

Play your 45 with this late at night,
Open all the windows, turn out the light.
Mysterious creatures will fill the room,
A midnight show just put on for you.

But still I fall from grace with this microphone,
How’d you find yourself if you never roam?
Certainly I’m indebted baby, certainly, certainly…

I know my place, but it don’t know me.
I know my place, but it don’t know me.

Cold fame in my brain, but it’s okay cause I know it’s the best for me.
Cold fame in my brain, but it’s okay cause I know it’s the best for me.
Cold fame in my brain, but it’s okay cause I know it’s the best for me.
Cold fame in my brain, but it’s okay cause I know it’s the best for me.
Cold fame in my brain, but it’s okay cause I know it’s the best for me.