The auditorium is huge, with perfectly matched acoustics. Seven thousand audience, seven men on the stage.version x3
EXIT (STAGE RIGHT)
The gig is really hotting up now. The auditorium is huge, with perfectly matched acoustics. Seven thousand audience, seven men on the stage.
EXIT (STAGE LEFT)
Everyone paid their money to watch them their way through twenty or so tunes that they all know anyway. Still, it’s exciting. The band call themselves Spandau Ballet, which is a bloody awful name I do admit. All at once, everyone in the theatre starts to chant with the band.
No instruments play. The chant is lockstepped, rhythmic with no tune.
EXIT (STAGE REAR)
I get damned frightened and run from the hall, into the empty foyer. I find there are no doors. How will I ever get out? I can hear chanting getting louder and faster. Something scary is happening. I feel a tap on my shoulder and who should I see but the members of the band! I say to them I thought they were on stage. They smile and assure me that they are. I am confused.
EXIT (STAGE FRONT)
Through the glass walls that once were glass doors I see the city outside crumbling and breaking with the rain. Its sterile grandeur melting in the night wind, dust carried miles over the southern hills towards the outskirts of Berlin. The band has vanished, the theatre is derelict and the city has been dead for a century. A new civilisation will arise from the dust that once was us. We will call them men and they will call us Gods.