A bleary eyed, floppy-haired gentleman opens the door. He doesn't look pleased.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"We're The Paddingtons!"
"Who?"
"The Paddingtons, and Carl, we love you!"
"You what?!"
"We love you Mr. Barât, we love The Libertines. You're our idol, and we decided to form this band and be just like you!"
"Aren't you a little behind the times?"
"Nah, we're from Hull, things move slow in Hull. Right, this is Loser..."
*They play. They finish. They look expectant*
*Carl yawns*
"Well, I agree with the sentiment"
"Tha... Hey! That's not nice! You do know that Hedi Slimane likes us?!"
"Perhaps he's being ironic. You know how these fashion types are..."

"Ok, you're not keen. That's cool, we'll try again. Listen to this, Pete loves this."
"And there's absolutely nothing wrong with his judgment at the moment."
*They play 50 to a £*
"We think it's The Clash reborn. All spit and snot and blood..."
"No, it sounds like someone drinking a cocktail of Sham 69 and Blink 182, then being sick."
"Thanks!"
"That wasn't a compliment."
"Really? Well, ok. We've got more, try this: it's called 21 and I'm sure you'll approve. It's got every punk staple going: shouty vocals, a cacophony of drums and edgy riffs. Plus, to capture that air of authenticity, we recorded it in a tin bath in Alan McGee's shed"
"Really. And yet it's still a piece of shit"
*The Paddingtons sigh*
"Ok. You're a hard man to satisfy, we appreciate that. But we'll can win you over.
*They play Panic Attack*
"Fantastic..."
*They look happy*
"...you've perfected the art of making two supposedly different songs sound almost exactly the same."
*They look less happy*

"Hmmm. We seem to be losing this battle. Ok Carl, I know what we can do, we can show you how diverse we are. We're so diverse that we have a reggae influence! How cool is that! All the best bands have a reggae influence, The Clash, The Specials...."
"UB40?"
"Yeah! Exactly! Anyway, this is Alright In The Morning..."
*They play. They stop.*
*Desperation burns in their eyes*
"Yep, it does sound a little bit like UB40. But I hear something else. I hear 10,000 Jamaicans boarding planes with the sole intention of taking you outside and doing you some extremely physical discourtesy."
*Band look crestfallen*
"Look guys, I'm not interested. I doubt the world is interested. You're too late to this party. In fact, if you've got a sec, you're so late that the house where the after party took place has been long since demolished, the area where it stood cleared, a selection of slow growing Japanese shrubs planted, and is now a rather elegant bonsai garden. "
*Slams door*
"Ah. Ok. Guess we're gonna need a new idol. Does anyone know where Johnny Rotten lives?..."

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