Over To You - Entry The Fourth

We've still got a few more suggestions to go so may well round off the week tomorrow with a double flourish for a big finish. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Back to today. Today's suggestion comes from Mr Andrew Mercer via The Book Of The Face and he gave me a real head-scratcher here until I worked out what the title was. Here are the options:-

Name:- Mary von af de McSmith

Object:- Lettuce

Dialogue:- "Fine, whilst you float in an orbit of self-pity, I'll actually do something about the situation."

Title:- "Daffodils On Your Piano"

Let's see what that gets us, shall we?

Daffodils On Your Piano

OK, so the lead singers got all the attention but, let's face it, they weren't the ones who held the band together. No, thought Freddy as he beat stick against skin, without me back here, keeping it all hanging together, she'd just be a karaoke singer. Sure, she'd been great for the profile of the band - she could belt out a tune and she looked a lot better than any of the others in skintight PVC - but if Mary von af de McSmith (one third Swedish, one third Scottish, one third English - don't ask how that works) had been left to run things, they'd all still be standing in Steve's living room and annoying the shit out of his neighbours.

The resentment had been building up for some time now, probably ever since the first Daffodils On Your Piano tour (the name had been her suggestion - she'd said they'd never get anywhere with Funtclap). Freddy remembered how the image of Mary The Superstar had begun to take over and they'd gradually started to become The Rest Of the Band. This was particularly prominent underneath photo captions ("Mary, here pictured with the rest of the band").

It had deepened as her behaviour became more erratic. She began to refer to herself only in the third person and started to display eccentric tendencies. She refused to be in the same room as lettuce and would only be photographed with her left hand over her right eye. Freddy didn't believe this was a sign of genuine mental instability. No, in his eyes, it was the desperate attempts of a slightly dim person who wanted to seem strange and exotic.

Then came the day that he found her slumped on the floor of her hotel room after attempting to get high on packets of Lemsip. She was weeping and gently tearing the eyes out of pictures of Cliff Richard. Freddy had snapped. "Fine whilst you float in an orbit of self-pity, I'll actually do something about the situation."

He'd called the press. Daffodil On Your Piano would be playing their last gig and going their separate ways.

And so now he sat. watching her gyrate and strut her stuff for the last time. Except... except he didn't want it to end. He didn't want it to be like this. He didn't want it to be the last time they played "From Here To Brentford" or "The Other Leg". As he watched Mary do her thing, he thought that maybe, just maybe, they could give things another go. Plus she really did have a nice arse in skintight PVC. Freddy felt the beat. He'd stay back there and he'd keep it all together.

There you go, that's your lot for today. Come back tomorrow when we'll round off the week that you asked for. Well, some of you asked for. The rest of you just kept shtum.