When Paul was arse down in the snow
Arse down in the snow, they have me! Paul hangs on to the thought for as long as the weed permits it. They've all been sharing blunts all day, and things feel a little... confused. He becomes momentarily distracted by the two-fingered nonsense John is noodling on the piano behind him. Why do we have a piano in the snow, he wondered. It's not good for pianos, all the snow. It's not good for the piano. Or my arse. I'm a sickly boy, then. No one cares that me arse is cold. "Why is there a piano in the snow, John," he wonders. "Why are we here?" John wonders back. "It's existential, innit?" He shivers. Arse down in the snow, they have me, the thought winds around, coming and going from his mind like a horse on a carousel. Why am I here? Why are any of us here? He taps his snow boots together, enjoying the sound of the heavy plastic, amusing himself with a rhythm. "Bloody uncomfortable, these, for shoes," he mutters to no one. "But they're good in the snow, aye," George replies, sounding many miles away.
Why is George here? "How can you hear me, when me face is all covered," Paul wonders as he shivers. He's not sure whether he's said it or thought it. George doesn’t answer, so he decides he musta thought it. He taps the shoes together again, thinking of a walking bass line as he watches the snow fall from his laces. Aye, good for snow laces, then. Or for snow. Shoe. Laces. Shoelaces. Snowshoelaces.
Ice on my arse. He shivers once again. "Bloody cold," he complains. Or thinks. The bloody cold is seepin' up into my arse, innit? Because they have me arse down in the snow! "I don't like this," he announces, loudly, although no one is listening. "It's cold. You've got me bloody arse down in the snow, and yer freezin' all my bits!" "Yer arse is too buoyant to stay down long, son," someone laughs. Was that Ritchie? But Ritchie is so nice. And we split a spliff before... before then... I'm going to fuck him up when I get warm. "Can we shoot this fecking movie, already," he demands, "so I can get out of the snow?" Someone from the crew finally responds. "What's the problem, Paul?" "Well, you've got me arse down in the snow, dontcha," he challenges. "Like some git who's too stupid to get up and go into the warm! Don't you know who I am?" "Lads," the crewmember announces over a bullhorn. "Once again, we're tellin' you we're done shooting for the day! Can all of you hear me? Can you hear me through the nonstop high, fellas? We're done for the day! You can all go inside, into the warm!"
"YOU'VE GOT ME ARSE DOWN IN THE SNOW!" "And please, please take Paul with you..."
