𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻… 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓻𝔂?

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟑.

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻… 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓻𝔂?

𝙎𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙄𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎

Mick Jagger’s Notebook

Writer’s block. Fuck me! Just as we were beginning to write nice bops, shit, we don’t click for several days and write absolute bullcrap while we're at it. Fuck this problem. And then, I fucking look over there at Parlophone and The goddamn Beatles are doing just swell! Lennon and McCartney lounging away their greedy and prissy asses, writing some new schlop the audience will like. They look like they always click!

“Fuck them.”

“Mick, don’t beat yourself up. They suck, but we could steal a trick or two from ‘em? Whatcha say?”

“Huh, not bad Richards.”

At least we function as friends. Maybe those two aren’t that friendly with each other outside the studio. 

Whenever we visit, they are welcoming. Of course. They always act like they are bigger than us. Currently, yes, but in the future, I hope not.

Paul McCartney was fake one hundred percent of the time. He had that unnatural kindness that didn’t sit right with me. It looked like we were foremost rivals and enemies. Still, he was polite enough. I respect him. Though, he would get irritated by me, which I am extremely proud of, but never seemed to make a fuss about it. Wonder why?

Meanwhile, his more sincere and head in the clouds best friend, John Lennon, always told us where we stand. Sometimes he’d feel like helping us, sometimes he would tell us to “bugger off”, but Keith and I knew he meant it. He was patient with us and had a fascination with our attempts to get information from him. 

The most important fact about them was that they really respected each other and did so many things together. And I need that with Keith, I need that thing that they do!

So I explained the situation to Lennon, because he was easier to talk to. With McCartney, it was much more work. 

“Oh, so you and Keith cucked out-”

And I regretted it immediately.

“Because you are too afraid.”

He winked.

“Me and Paul aren’t afraid of the press that much.”

“Lennon, I don’t know if you’re messing with me! The Beatles are going with the “good boy” aesthetic. We are the “bad boys” here. Of course we have it harder. The press ain’t pretty.”

He chuckled some more.

“Are we really that good?”, he blurted out, “Or…”

“Give me throwaway advice at least. Not this shit.”

“Okay, Jagger, if ya want to!”, he joked.

“Tell me what you and McCartney do when you’re out of sync.”

“We take some time off and do something fun? Drink. Fun with our birds? Then get back to the studio and write. Simple as that. Take a break, Mick.”

I don’t want to take a break, he is saying that because he wants us to fail and for them to have the monopoly.

“Do you have a quicker fix?”

Lennon rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“Dunno.”

Then he got extremely serious, checking for something. He got close to my ear.

“Then sleep with each other, what can I say?”

“What the fuck, John?”

“You need that intimacy and truthfulness to yourselves? Then explore.”

He was on the brink of bursting from laughter.

I was dumbfounded.

“You know, only lovers can be in sync most of the time. If you really think Macca and I are trying to undermine you and are in sync all the time, then it could only mean that we’re queer.”

“You git!”,  fuckin’ stupid joke making me laugh.

“And you know Macca, even though you know what rumor goes around for taller people’s peckers, he is packing-”, he said it disproportionately loud.

God, hahhahahaahhaah!

“You. You, Lennon, are getting on me nerves.”

“Oh, boohoo, the princess can’t take one single joke.”, he cracked a smile.

“Oh, I can take one, but can you take my pack?”

OH, FUUUUCK!

“No, Paul didn’t say what I think he did!”, I exploded into giggles. Wish the boys were here to hear this line of dialogue.

Lennon did not take that well. He was full of rage and defeat but… like always Lennon had a trick up his sleeve. 

“Only with frosting and cherry on top.”

Now they were both angry, so in sync.

“Really, I thought you liked it raw?”, McCartney is in a good mood for a joke today. Fun. Their conversation had a clear story. Maybe Keith and I should try something similar.

“No, not really, Paulie, I like it safe and sound.”, he winked, “Whatever, I am not coming in anytime soon.”

Paul chuckled.

“They called you for tuning. Tried to find you, saw you hanging out with our fierce competition.”, and welcome back, McCart, glad to see you are once again barely acknowledging my existence.

“Not even a hello for the rival?”, I joked.

He rolled his eyes.

“Hello, Mick Jagger. Johnny, go.”

He chuckled.

“Go, Johnny, go!”, what an awful pun. Don’t know if Lennon’s or his are worse.

“Alright, princess.”, he disappeared into the studio.

As McCartney was about to tinker with some tech I interrupted him,

“McCartney, do you have some advice for getting in sync? Lennon told me some bull, so I am asking the straightman here.”

Paul laughed.

“The straightman, alright.”, is he willing to share with me some advice? Unusual.

“What did John tell you?”

“To fuck? That is what you two do!”

“Oh, that man is surely getting beaten up today.”, Paul was fuming, “Did he tell you something else or just fucked with you? I know very well how and when he likes to do- I’m setting up myself aren’t I?”

That was worth a chuckle. 

“He told me to take a break.”

“And what great advice he gave you. We always do that.”, Paul looked proud for a second, “And he should’ve stopped fucking there!”

Can’t hear the word normally now.

“GOD! Get that picture out of your head, Jagger!”

“The princess doesn’t want to be stripped further.”, Lennon walks back in and continues the game.

“And you don’t want to be punished further.”, McCartney wasn't letting go. They were stubborn as hell.

“We are going in circles with this thing.”, Lennon noticed, “Mick, the two of us are very grateful for your fun with this topic, and now listen; you don’t need a Lennon or a McCartney to tell you what’s best. You have to, y’know-”

John grabbed me strongly by the shoulders.

“Feel it.”

“And think it through.”, Paul added.

“Concluding stuff in that way.”, John ended.

That’s a nice tip.

“That’s gear, thanks.”

“We’ll be going to the studio now. Got to get some shit recorded. Let’s go Paul, and bye rivaaaal!”, Lennon waved and went.

“Bye.”, McCartney followed him.

“Goodbye, Beat less.”

I heard a small whisper from McCartney, “We just helped our competition.”

“Let ‘em at it. They need to learn and grow. Then we wouldn’t have fun-”, and I got too far away.

They really look at us in that way, huh.

Keith and I took their advice to heart and it helped us a lot. We did our own thing. Took breaks sometimes. When we felt something we wrote it down. It really was that easy. And of course we “had to” thank the snide buggers for helping us. But, we wanted to add a little twist to it; mostly because of Lennon’s love for a good joke.

We two went into EMI to check on them. Harrison and Starr were in the studio as per usual. Harrison gave us some biscuits. He had three tins. Three tins.

“One is never enough when John or Ringo are near. Especially Johnny.”

“Still three fucking tins?”

“When you mention fucking, my dear Richards, I remember we had a session last night?”

“Who practices at-”, Starr questioned, “Oh, oh!”

Starr chuckled.

“You gits are lying!”, Lennon walked in.

“Why would sugarplum and I lie?”, Keith my brother.

“OH MY GOD, you madmen!”, Lennon giggled.

“Why would you do that?”, Harrison put away his biscuits.

“Him and McCartney do it? We wanted to thank you because of that. Worked like a charm.”

“John is a big goofball, you are fools for trusting his advice.”, Harrison ate a biscuit, “Want one, John?”

“Yeah.”, he bit the biscuit and talked with his mouth full, “Glad that worked out for you.”

“What happened?”, McCartney entered in a hurry, “We need to start recording.”

“Oh, they did it.”

“Richards and Jagger did what?”

“They explored each other.”

“OH MY LORD.”, Paul gasped, “Good for you.”

Thumbs up.

“Are you stupid? We wouldn’t do queer stuff. And you never denied doing that yourself didn’t you Lennon?”

“I don’t know Jagger, why would you want that to be true?”

Ooh, this is a new kind of self centered I haven’t encountered.

“Nice joke.”, McCartney clapped.

“Now, can you please get out and let us practice?”, Lennon panicked?

“Nervous?”, Keith asked.

McCart and Lennon were embarrassed. Starr and Harrison were begging us with their faces to end this mockery. We won!

“Stop that blasphemy, sugar plums and darlings, and tell us why you are here?”, Paul joked with us in a pleasant way.

“It really worked, the advice you gave us. Taking breaks and such. Thanks, Lennon. Had to give you something extra in return.”

“Oh, you nasty cunts!”, Lennon roared at us with glee, “That was fun.”

“Oh, for Lennon to say it was fun, must’ve been something.”, Keith commented.

I agree.

“That fool is quite easily entertained.”, McCartney scoffed.

“Of course, that’s why you are my songwriting partner.”

McCartney chuckled, “Yeah, to take care of your little messes, like this one.”

“No mess here.”, Keith simply said.

“Yeah, we aren’t a mess.”, I added.

“God… Why do I have to deal with you and Decca.”, McCart sighed.

And that was our cue to go. Not really fun when our rivals want to beat us, but literally. I would like to do that someday, but currently for our image, not anytime soon.

“Bye then The Schmeatles.”, I said.

“See you later, The Rooling Bones.”, Lennon greeted us.

Those two really are special in some way. Lenin and McCart. Funny. Two outlandish Liverpudlians writing good sounding pieces in five minutes. Well, we’ll get there faster for sure.

For now we should celebrate that we bested them in something for the time being. Maybe we are in sync but in a different way than them… 

Rest of Sacrifame