Original subtitles

Good evening, folks, hmm...

Good evening, you slags.

No, good evening, folks.

So, who is Robbie Williams?

Well, I've been called many things -

narcissistic, punchable, shit-eating twat,

but while I'm all those things,

I wanna show you how I really see myself.

So sit back, relax,

while I give you a right fucking entertaining.

So, the story starts...

1982, Stoke-on-Trent.

The arse-end of the north of England.

Mitchell.

It may look grubby and deprived...

- Troy. - But deep down...

- Wayne. - ...it was grubby and deprived.

Mason.

I didn't have much,

but at least I had the respect...

- Crystal. - ...and admiration of my peers.

What?!

They just had trouble showing it.

- Robert. - Yes! Come on!

Oi! Right, knobhead, pass the ball to Nate

and let him do the rest.

Positions!

Oi! The fuck you off to? You're in goal.

- But-- - Don't fuck it up.

I'm like a chainmail condom, nothing's getting through.

Whoo! Let's go, slags!

I had plenty of balls.

But I couldn't stop a single one.

I wasn't ready. Ohh!

- Nice one, dickhead. - Come on!

Oh!

Robert Williams, captain of Port Vale.

You really are fucking useless, aren't ya?

Little bitch!

It's alright, Rob.

Nate, just leave it.

Yeah... Yeah, jog on, you tit.

Right, come on, let's go.

You're a fucking nobody!

See, where I grew up,

you were meant to act small.

But the thing is, my DNA is cabaret.

I came out of the womb with jazz hands.

Which was very painful for my mum.

Heading downstairs for a bit.

One of the barmen's called in sick.

Goodnight, sweetheart. Straight to bed, yeah?

- Don't let him ruin his dinner. - Bye, love.

How's about a warm hand on my entrance?

Thank you. Thank you...

My dad was well enamoured

by the stars of the day -

Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr and, of course, Sinatra.

They were gods to him.

Youth, you hear that? That's pure love, that is.

It don't come cheap, mind.

You've got to risk it all - whatever it takes.

Because if you make it...

...it's paradise.

Thing is, you can't learn it.

You're either born with it...

...or you're a nobody.

- Light 'em up! - Light 'em up!

Oh, fuck it!

- Now, look what you've-- - Sorry.

I had a full head of steam then, and all.

- I can fix it. - Get out the way.

- We can sing without it. - It's not the same.

- Or... or we could-- - Robert!

I think it's time for a bath.

But I want to keep going.

Just go with your nan, will ya!

Come on, love. Come on.

Stupid... Come on, blue eyes...

- Nan? - Hm-mm.

What is...'it'?

What do you mean?

Dad said you have to be born with 'it'...

- ...and maybe I wasn't. - Ohhh.

Believe me, whatever 'it' is, you got more than your share.

You're just saying that.

I'm bloody well not.

I wouldn't change a hair on your head.

What is it, love?

I don't want to be a nobody.

Oh, love, there's no such thing as a nobody.

Remember...

This might feel good.

But this...

...this is what matters.

You're enough.

I was nine years old

when I got my first real taste of the limelight.

And I still remember that taste -

pure, unadulterated terror.

Have you seen the fit one with the big bulge?

After the show, I'm going to touch him

where his bathing suit goes.

I'm going to fuck it up, I know it.

So what? No one will notice.

My dad will.

Just go out there, sing your fucking song and walk off.

That's not enough! He'll see right through me.

What am I going to do?

I don't know. I'm just doing this for the sausage.

In the next three seconds,

I'm going to be found out.

They'll see that I'm ugly, I'm stupid, I'm untalented.

I'm not good at anything.

But there is one skill I'd practised

more than any other child in the world.

Light 'em up.

And that's for showing off.

How's about a warm hand on my entrance?

You see, I thought to become famous

you had to be really, really good.

Turns out you just have to show off and be a bit cheeky.

Put your hands together for our next contestant -

- Peter Williams. - He's probably embarrassed.

Thank you very much.

You know the difference between

an 'oooh' and an 'aaaah'?

Well, it's about three inches.

I usually go over people's heads.

Ooh, naughty!

Oh, ho, oh! Eyes off my bum.

Hurrah!

Yes, Robert!

Whoo!

You're useless!

You're a disgrace!

You're a fucking nobody!

Look at you...

I fucking hate you.

My dad won five quid that night.

Oh, you're kidding me!

Although it might as well have been five million.

Thank you very much.

You have been wonderful and I've been Peter Will--

Conway. I'm Peter Conway!

Not only did he change his name.

He changed his life.

One day he went to watch the FA Cup Final.

Unfortunately, he didn't come back.

The audience beckoned

and he left us to be one step closer to his gods.

Don't worry, Mum. We'll be alright.

Light 'em up.

Next!

Take a pamphlet, sign the form,

shut the door on your way out.

No, you're alright.

I know what I'm going to be.

Oh, aye, what's that then?

Famous! I'm going to sing and dance.

I'm writing lyrics and all.

I've seen your grades, lad.

You couldn't rub two words together.

"The world is mine to claim.

"All I need is a fuckload of fame.

"Ooh, ooh, yeah."

Listen, don't embarrass yourself, yeah?

This, it's not for you. Keep your feet on the ground.

You might want to frame that.

- Tosser! - Next!

Whoo!

Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!

Hey! Oh!

Oh, do it, Nate!

Fuck me! You'd make a fucking awful stripper.

- You know that? - Fuck off.

Oh, that's my backup plan.

Hey, you should come work with me.

Flint's always looking for people.

Isn't he that flashy cunt in the coupe?

Yeah, but he's proper. Double glazing.

Easy job, easy money.

How'd you meet him?

- I shagged his mum. - Fucking hell!

Ah, it's alright, he knows.

His dad wouldn't be best pleased, though.

Fucking have that!

So have you told him about the trials?

- Nah. - Well, you better.

That scout was fucking excited.

I thought he was going to blow you right there on the pitch.

Fuck off! I'm not going to the trials.

- I'm not going to the trials. - Rubbish.

- I'm not. - What?

Think of the money. The supermodels.

The fans screaming for ya.

Yeah, I don't need all that fancy shit.

- Fucking hell, Nate! - Alright, calm down.

You've got a ticket to heaven and you're going to stay here?

Oh, yeah, it's like you with your singing, isn't it?

I just do it 'cause I love it.

Who gives a fuck if you love it?

What matters is that other people love you doing it.

You'll have to get yourself to school.

I can't face it.

I've got a bastard of a headache.

And an exam, which you better have studied for.

Why do you think my head's pounding?

You'll have more than a pounding head if you haven't.

Oh, I love it when she talks dirty.

You're going.

I'd take you, but I've got a million deliveries.

God knows I've already had one man lounging about...

A music manager in Manchester

is holding auditions...

Shh. ...for young men...

Don't you bloody shush me.

- ...in singing and dancing. - Mum! Shush.

The man behind the venture, Nigel Martin Smith,

is creating a new boy band.

I didn't think you're interested in boy bands.

Mum, quick. Quick! Quick! Write it down.

- Doors open at 9 AM... - This is it!

This is it!

I'm going to be fucking famous!

Shut up, you tit!

Oh, fuck off, Glen!

Whoo! Whoo!

He makes my tizzer go foo, he does.

Thank you.

Light 'em up.

I'm Robert.

Nigel Martin Smith was, for legal reasons,

an absolute sweetheart.

Well, go on then.

And a first-class cunt.

He's bored of you.

Look at you. You've got no talent.

You're not fucking Sinatra.

Okay, that'll do, lad.

You do know this is a pop band?

Yeah.

Tell you what, I'll do Milli Vanilli's--

No!

Cheers then.

So, shall we tell them that you found your man

and they can all fuck off home then, yeah?

No, don't you get up.

It'll be my pleasure.

And if I hadn't winked in that moment,

none of this would've happened.

I wouldn't even be here talking to you.

Shhhh!

Break a leg, you slags.

Cheeky little bastard.

He wouldn't know talent if it jumped up

and bit him on the cock.

It's only been a few hours, love.

He's got no eye for it, Nan.

You have to wait.

I fucked it.

He saw right through me.

I mean, look at me.

Do I look like a pop star to you?

You look like you always look.

Exactly.

A talentless fuck...

...who's going to die alone and fat

and be craned out of his shitpit in Stoke.

Aaagh!

Fuck, Nan! Hello?

Youth?

Dad.

Um, your voice is so low now.

Thought I had the wrong number.

- How are you, Dad? - Never better. Never better.

Now listen, um, I haven't got long, but, uh, I was thinking -

how about you come visit?

- Really? - Yeah, why not?

School holidays are coming up.

You should come see what the old man's been up to.

Yes.

I mean, yeah, definitely!

Smashing! Alright, I better go.

A full house waits for no man and all that!

- It'll be good to see ya, lad. - Light 'em up, Dad--

- Oh, Robert. - Oh!

Come on!

- Oh, love. - Bloody hell, Nan.

Oh, Lord.

Is everybody having a good time?

Peter can't hear you. You having a good time?

I was lucky enough to grace the stage

with this next act at a talent competition.

I'll never forget it. He gave me a five.

Oooh.

Oh, it was sadder than that.

- Oooh. - Oooh.

So please put your hands together

for the irresistible...

...the irrepressible...

...the irreplaceable...

Ooh!

I give him a ten out of ten - Mr. Terry Swinton.

I've warmed them up for ya.

I thought I was losing that stage left table for a bit,

but I won them back, didn't I?

Oh, yeah.

I'm glad you reached out.

It was a shock, but, you know, in a good way.

I thought it was about time, youth.

Hey, I forgot to tell you, I'm joining this pop band.

Really? When... when do you start?

Well, I'm not definitely in yet, but...

- Oh... - Well, no.

It's just that I haven't heard back--

- Watch it! - Oh, sorry.

Terry's the bollocks, isn't he?

Yeah.

Actually, you might want to keep that bed out for me.

Failed my exams - complete fucking balls-up.

Mum's going to put me on the first bus back when I tell her.

Fucking hopeless.

You've got to learn from this.

You're right.

All of this.

'Cause, you know, you're learning from the best.

Let's hear it again. Ten out of ten. Ten out of ten.

Seeing my dad

surrounded by the stars of yesteryear

galvanised my need to become famous.

But I had a more immediate problem.

What's Mum going to be like

when I tell her I failed my exams?

Fucked up the rest of my life.

- Did you have a good time? - Yeah. Smashing.

- How is he? - Great.

I, erm...

I've got something to tell you.

So have I.

- I failed... - You're in that band.

What?

You got in! You're in that band.

Yes!

And I never had to tell her

I failed my exams - until now.

Sorry, Mum.

- Shut up, you tit! - Oh, fuck off, Glen!

Mother!

Nigel was my introduction

to the adult world.

He was fucking terrifying, like Willy Wonka.

But what did I care?

I was 15, I was going to have four older brothers,

and we were going to take over the world.

Howard Donald, panelbeater.

If you got a dent on your car, Howard would pound it out.

Jason Orange was a featured dancer

on a genre-defining TV music show

called 'The Hit Man and Her'.

Mark Owen...

Little Marco was... lovely.

And then of course...

Come here, you.

There was Gary Barlow,

and my first thought was,

who's this dickhead in those trainers?

They are so three years ago.

Gary was a genius. An actual genius.

He'd been playing the working men's clubs

since he was 12 years old

and was earning more money than his teachers.

Trouble was - Gary sang like an angel,

but he danced like a twat.

Seven, eight. Hit! Hit!

You gotta bring the energy. Come on!

...seven, eight. Foot and...

I recall thinking two things that day -

a fifth of the spotlight is better than nothing, and...

...if anyone from Stoke sees me,

I'm fucking dead.

Tikka masalas all round,

no coriander for the boys.

- Thank you. - No coriander?

Whenever Nigel took us out for dinner,

he would always say...

I'll put this on your account.

He wasn't joking. He recouped it all.

Look around the table, go on.

In five years, we're all going to hate each other.

But we'll be fucking rich.

Now, first things first.

We work up our act, we take it on the road.

What about a record deal?

Well, that will come, we'll get your demo sent out,

we'll let the bidding war begin.

- Ah, but... - Yes.

Before that, let's shore up your backstories.

Mark and Jason, you were in a breakdancing group together.

Gary and Howard, you were in a band called The Cutest Rush.

Was I the lead?

You weren't then, my chicken, and you're not now.

Fuck off!

Robert, you had a bit part in 'Brookside'.

Oh, I was fucking great, wasn't I?

You were a bit much, frankly.

Nige, can't we just say I'm a songwriter?

I've got a ton of lyrics.

Well, I can hold my breath for two minutes

but I'm not trying to be a fucking submarine, am I?

Gary writes the songs, yeah?

You lot toe the line.

Oh, and also, your name's not Robert anymore - it's Robbie.

Oh, tuck in, lads.

I fucking hated the name Robbie,

but it was the single best thing Nigel did for me.

Robbie became a character. Something I could hide behind.

Oh, now, the name of the band?

Oh, Nige, I've got a good one.

Kick It!

That's fucking awful.

I've already got the name and it's brilliant.

And clench!

Take That!

Oh!

Initially, Nigel's plan was for us to be

a band for the gay scene.

Let's do this. Just remember what you rehearsed.

- Robbie, you alright? - Don't be nervous.

- You all look amazing. - Light 'em up.

Robbie, what you doing? Hurry up.

Don't keep 'em waiting.

Now, for years, people have rumoured

about my sexuality.

The worst one was that all my gay friends

have slept with me and said I was crap.

I'm not bothered they said I slept with them.

These are my boys!

It's me being 'crap' I'm worried about.

Play it loud!

That night, I discovered a wonderland.

It was welcoming and non-judgmental.

I'd found my people.

I'd found the promised land.

For the entire first eighteen months,

we made 180 pounds, each.

We played gay club after gay club.

Two a night.

Until out of nowhere,

Nigel booked us a club full of girls.

You gonna fucking listen!

Fucking useless prick. I'm warning you!

- What?! - Whoo!

What the fuck?!

Oh!

Yeah!

- Did you hear that? - Alright.

Settle down. Settle down.

Will you lot shut up?!

I felt like Elvis, but thin. Ha ha!

I've got good news!

- Good news. - Good news?

We've had some interest from a few record labels...

- Oh, fuck off! - ...in London.

- Oh! - London! Yes!

- That's absolutely fantastic! - Yes!

- Thank you so much. - Yeah, you deserve it.

- You've all done really well. - Yes! Yes!

Except for one of ya.

Ooh.

We all know who that is, don't we?

Robbie talked to a local reporter.

"We're like the A-team. I'm the sexy, talented one."

Who the fuck gave you--

I didn't know she was a reporter, Nige.

You know, I almost started to like you,

but you've fucking ended that, haven't ya?

- Fuck off! - What was that?

I think, uh, Robbie's developing a sense of humour, Nige.

You think it'd be difficult

to go to Stoke-on-Trent,

get another scally with ratty hair and call him Robbie?

Right, the club wants us to do a meet-and-greet.

There's going to be lots of girls in here,

so let's get one thing clear -

keep it in your pants.

No touching.

- No telephone numbers. - What?

- No dating. - No touching?

- Seriously? - Ever!

- Nige?! - Ever!

What's the point of bringing them up here

- if we can't touch them? - Let's get this done.

- Alright! Bring 'em up! - Nige!

Hi.

I love you all!

Nigel had many rules for Take That,

and the most important was that we always appeared attainable.

Safe sex is important...

He even made us do a Safer Sex tour

for the Family Planning Association.

So, remember...

Don't be a fool, cover his tool.

Naturally, I took it all to heart.

Oh, I love the way you move, Gary.

I was happy to play Gary for the moment.

Wow.

I'll never wash my hands again.

- Oh, my God! - Yeah?

Oh, my God, Hurry up, hurry up! Quick!

- Oh, that's it. - Gary, I already stopped.

And there it was, the one time in Nigel's life

he wasn't the biggest wanker in the room.

Right. Straight up.

There's no appetite, want or need for boybands.

They died a death. It's all grunge now.

- Did you hear our demo? - Yes.

These boys are going to take this country by storm.

And if you don't sign them right now,

I'll take them to another label

and you'll be the twat that let the biggest band in history

slip through your pudgy fucking fingers.

You won't do any of that,

'cause everyone else said no.

I only agreed to see you

because my daughter saw you boys live,

and she's obsessed.

She assures me that you are amazing in the flesh.

So...

...I'm going to take a punt that you're right about these boys.

Now, which one of you is Gary?

That's me, I'm Gary.

Oh!

Let's go, boys!

- Whoa! - Whoa!

Yeah! Oh! Oh!

Come on!

Every day, there's a new lot.

The coach brings them in.

They come into the garden,

they nick the wood off the fence,

the clothes off the line.

Someone should do something about this.

Mum, they want this to happen.

I went down the post office the other day

and someone called me a posh slag.

Oh, love, you're not posh.

It's not funny. I can't make my deliveries anymore.

I'm having to shut the business, Robert.

Guess who's recording the lead vocals for our new song?

Mm-hm.

I'll get us out of this shithole

and buy us a fortress, just like Gary.

And why would I want a bigger house to hide in?

That was the first time

my mum closed the curtains.

I'm going to bed. If they'll let me.

She didn't open them for another ten years.

Hey, love...

Where's my little Robert gone?

I'm a pop star now.

Fat little Robert isn't going to sell any albums, is he?

I'm just giving the people what they want.

I go onstage and act like a gladiator

and I pretend that the whole world is lucky to see me.

And they all act accordingly.

They don't see what I see.

Then stop!

See, that's the craziest thing to me.

I can't.

We love you, Robbie!

Now, fuck off!

I'm here at Take That HQ

with the man responsible

for the band's success, Nigel Martin Smith.

It's quite a display.

It is, yeah, yeah, we got

Take That dolls,

Take That calendars,

Take That pillows, so you can sleep with Take That.

I'm just kidding. Probably cut that bit out.

Uh, for our ethnic fans, we have Take That Babushka dolls.

Uh, Robbie's inside Mark, who's inside Jason.

Jason's inside Howard and they all fit snugly in Gary.

Hmm, that's quite cute.

Lyrics?

Just some ideas.

Well, come on then. Give us a look.

- Will I get a credit? - I don't know.

Are they any good?

- Wouldn't you like to know? - Fuck off.

You've got it all over you.

- Fuck off, Jason. - Whatever.

Hey. At least pretend to give a toss.

- What, about all this? - Yeah.

Are you kidding?

Do you have any idea how naff people think we are?

Oh, fuck off, Robbie, they bloody love us.

Do you think Oasis does this shit?!

We need to branch out.

Write something that's not

so fucking cringeworthy.

- And this coming from you. - Uh...

The one who only shines when the light's on him.

- Alright, Gaz. - No, no, let him speak.

You think you can just turn up,

scribble some worthless shit

and get your name next to mine in the song credits?

You add nothing to this.

Any of it.

Ah, just ah, hold it there for a second, thanks, Robbie.

That was better, yeah?

Ah, you're... you're still a little behind, I'm afraid.

Oh, I've always liked a little behind.

Uh, what we might do, Robbie, is, um, if we record it -

we can just record it line by line, yeah?

And we can just stitch it together later.

Nah, I can do it all at once.

Yeah, let's just, um, let's just go again.

Yeah, let's go. I got it.

Sure thing, then. Uh...

Here we go.

You're worthless.

You can't do what Gary does.

They're all laughing at ya.

Ah, that's... that's great. Thanks. Thanks, Robbie.

Just give us one wee sec, yeah?

Fuck me.

I think we might have it there, mate.

Thank you.

- Okay, great. - Let's go, guys.

- Hey. - Whoo!

Yeah, yeah. Cheers. Cheers, Robbie.

Give it a sec, Gary, before you head in there.

- Oh, my God. - You did your best.

Yeah, you know, and now I feel like the bad guy.

Gary Barlow, ladies and gentlemen!

It's already good. Fucking hell, the difference!

It's like night and day, isn't it?

Yeah. Thank you.

Oh, this is a hit.

I didn't know it

but I was suffering from depression.

I hate that phrase - 'suffering from depression'.

It sounds so Scarlett O'Hara -

"I do declare, Mr. Butler,

"I have been suffering with a bout of depression."

'Clinically depressed' is better.

Way more lab coaty.

- Dad! - Here he is! Here he is!

I didn't know you were--

Oh, my God!

I told you, didn't I?

You owe me a pint, love.

- Can I get a photo? - Of course you can.

I'll take it for you.

Okay, here we go.

- Say 'fuzzy pickle'. - Fuzzy pickle.

- Ah... - Lovely.

Thank you so much.

Did you want one with me in it?

Great idea, yeah!

Yeah, course you do. Come on.

Look at that, eh? Peas in a pod.

Can I lose you... use you... Can I use your loo?

Yeah.

It's a number two.

Be my guest.

- Oh, my God! - Yeah... Oh.

She seems nice.

Oh, yeah, terrific. Terrific!

You know they've cordoned off the whole street, don't ya?

There's girls everywhere.

They're not playing nice either.

It's like a bloodsport out there.

I told the security lads you were my son.

I nearly got torn apart.

You in town for long?

No, no, just... just passing through. Back home tonight.

After I collect my pint.

I wish I'd known you were coming.

- What's this? - Nothing.

Prozac?

What have you got to mope about?

You boys are flying. Bloody Brits nomination...

I've been telling everyone about that.

I know. It's just...

It's all a bit overwhelming, Dad, you know?

It's like I can't keep track of who I am anymore.

Well, go and ask that lot out there.

They know exactly who you are.

The other lads you'd be hard-pressed

to pick 'em out of a police line-up.

Well, not Gary, obviously, 'cause he's the creative one,

but, uh, you...

...you're living the dream, youth.

We love you, Robbie.

How can you not know who you are...

...when there are thousands of people screaming your name?

Jesus! Rob!

- What did he take? - Could be anything.

Hold the show until I say.

- No, no, no, no! - You were an afterthought.

Couldn't sing, couldn't dance.

Looks... five at best.

Everything you have, everything, I've given you.

And you don't deserve any of it.

Oh, fucking hell!

- Are you fucking retarded?! - I fucking told them...

- Alright! Get in position. - Fucking hell, Nige!

- I said, get in position, now! - Get up, get up!

Wake up, you fucking baby!

Right, follow my lead!

All of this because of a fucking wink.

Oh!

Whoo! Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Passed out! That's a new low.

It was a dodgy curry.

Your job is simple -

sing the harmonies and toe the line.

You'd like that, wouldn't ya?

Know your place.

You're making us look like fucking idiots.

Ah! Hoo!

Because he writes all the songs,

Gary makes all the money.

He's got a mansion in the north of England

with a driveway full of cars.

Fuck me!

And a butler.

While I'm still living at Mum's.

He's Elton now.

And they're all waiting for me in the garden.

And it's to talk about the problem.

- And I am the problem. - Whoo!

Robbie, so, um...

Well, we've all been having a think, and, um,

we'd quite like to do the next tour as a, ah...

...as a four-piece.

Just to see if we can do it.

Yeah. To see if we can do it.

Perhaps you could focus on

some of that solo material you've been working on or, um...

To be honest, Rob,

we've been doing it as a four-piece for a while.

I think you should.

Is that it, then?

Uh... Yeah.

Wheeee!

Can I take this?

Yeah, Rob. If you want.

This is it!

This... is... the end!

Hmm!

Fuck!

Fans are still reeling

from the announcement on Monday

that Robbie Williams

has split from Take That.

Help Line switchboards, set up after reports of suicides,

have been flooded by tearful Take That fans...

But he had built up a reputation

as a party animal...

How could you do this?

We need you, Robbie!

Don't go!

Robbie, don't do this!

Don't leave!

Hmm? Hmm?

The cheeky member of Take That

is now the fucked-up messy one

who's gone and broken up the band.

And people hate me for it.

But really, they're only saying what I think about myself.

I've a raging cocaine habit,

I'm a full-blown alcoholic and I'm twenty-one.

I think I was always going to be an alcoholic or an addict.

I just had the money and the means to get there quicker.

But I'm also incredibly competitive.

I mean, I've no idea

how I'm going to pull off a solo career.

But there's an energy to revenge,

and it's very, very seductive.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five,

four, three, two, one.

Happy New Year!

It's going to happen.

No ifs, no buts. No left, no right. Just straight ahead.

I'm going to be fucking massive.

A massive what?

Fuck! You scared the shit out of me.

You said you wanted to be massive?

Ah, well, I was just, um...

...wishing for a little extra girth.

- What is it you do? - Oh, yeah...

Oh sorry, should I already know that?

No, no, no, no, no. Um...

No, I'm... I'm a singer and songwriter.

Really?

Yeah. Yeah, just starting out on my own.

I was in Take That and--

The boyband?

Oh, don't mind me.

Sorry.

No, you're alright. I mean, it is why I left.

Dancing around in the background

like a camp sadomasochist.

I mean, if I'm going to look like a tosser,

I might as well do it down stage centre.

So it's all about the spotlight?

Wow, not even any lube. Just full fist.

I'm just saying -

if you're gonna start out on your own,

you might as well be honest about why.

- Shit, are you a journalist? - Fuck, no.

I'm just curious.

I'm not sure you'd understand.

Try me.

You know, I was given the golden ticket

but it felt like I was bound and gagged

for the last five years.

And not in a hot way, either.

In like a battery to the scrotum sort of way.

I don't know, sexy, mysterious, masked lady.

I guess I've just reached a point

where I want to prove I can make it on my own.

Prove to who?

Everyone.

See? I told you you wouldn't understand.

Oh, fuck me!

She and her sister were members

of the girl band, All Saints.

Their manager was a cunt, too.

She was absolutely lovely -

with the single worst taste in men.

Yeah, you alright?

Fame is so fucking weird, isn't it?

It's like that uneasy feeling you get

when they bring the cake out

and the whole restaurant sings "Happy Birthday" to you

and you can't wait until "Happy Birthday" stops being sung.

I mean, people are doing a really nice thing,

but you just want it to stop so you can--

Eat the fucking cake.

Yeah.

Well, now you've got your gag off,

what are you going to say?

- I've got some lyrics. - Oh...

I mean, they're basically different takes

on how much I hate myself.

Oh, so a Christmas album then?

I'm not sure about an album.

You know, at the moment,

I'd just like to write one good song.

- You're overthinking it. - Hmm?

Just write about whatever's in front of you.

Look...

Yes! It's a hit!

See? You're going to be massive in no time.

It's not... It's not a competition, girls.

It's just hard work. You need to put that in.

Here.

This place is posh as fuck.

You know, I've just seen fucking Bono in the toilet.

Had a look.

Tiny.

You've missed me, haven't you?

Ah, of course you have.

Hmm! Hey, so...

You know my girlfriend, Kayleigh?

- Kayleigh. - The one with the clubfoot?

No, she ain't got a clubfoot.

- Well... - No. Her pelvis is out.

Anyway, she's... up the duff.

I'm going to be a dad.

That's amazing.

I'm just surprised the little thing still works.

Fuck off!

Shut up! Shut up! Here it is.

The wait is over!

Coming in at number one, it's new, it's brilliant,

it's "Never Ever" by All Saints.

Whoo!

Come on!

- I can't believe it! - Well done, babe.

- You deserve it. - It'll be your turn next.

Nicole, give us a few words!

Yes. Nicole.

Okay. Ahh, I just...

I can't believe we did it.

Number fucking one!

To everyone who has supported us through the years,

you're family, and we love you.

Whoo!

And to my...

Ah, to my best friends...

Having a number one is amazing

and getting to celebrate it together is the best.

Liam Gallagher was the lead singer of Oasis,

the biggest band on the planet.

I'm in love with their songs. I'm in love with the lyrics.

I'm in love with how provocative they are.

I'm just totally in love with them,

and I want to be them.

Fame is a powerful aphrodisiac.

It means even ugly people can get laid.

Mind you, guitars do that, too.

What's all that about, then?

Got a number one.

Is that all? Fucking hell.

If I orgasmed every time I had a number one,

I'd be fucking dry.

Yeah.

- You listen to this cunt? - Yeah!

Like he fucking knows what we're fucking talking about.

You want a number one,

you should've stayed Gary's back-up dancer.

Guess who's had the largest ever demand

for concert tickets in British history?

Me.

And the band--

Knebworth, right?

125,000 fucking screaming cunts.

That's insane.

It's how you know you've made it, fucking knobhead.

Me and Liam wouldn't always be so cuddly.

Would anybody like to see me fight Liam?

Liam, a hundred grand of your money,

a hundred grand of my money.

We'll get in the ring and we'll have a fight

and you can all watch it on TV.

What do you think about that?

Now are you going to do it

or are you going to pussy out, you fucking wimp?

Thankfully,

he wasn't in the country at the time.

Knebworth...

Come on, let's go. This is shit.

- Nice chatting to you, Noel. - Fuck off, cunt.

Hey, twinkletoes, you coming or what?

Yeah. Come on.

Whoo!

Good evening, Knebworth.

You all look gorgeous tonight.

Here's one from my new album.

Thank you very much.

Hiya.

Fuck me, aren't you Miss Number One

of the United Kingdom of Britain?

- Maybe. - Mm-hm.

And where did you end up?

I got kidnapped by Liam Gallagher.

Oh...

And you looked like you were having a good enough time.

Anyway, I was just trying to make sense of it.

Of what?

"Never Ever".

You don't... What? You don't... You don't like our song?

Oh, it's fine. I mean, I'm not sure it's a number one, but...

Well, people seem to like it.

It would be nice if my fiancé--

Screaming, jumping around, making fucking speeches...

And all that bullshit about family.

It's not bullshit. It's everything to me.

Right.

So did you tell them that you gave up our family

to get that number one, then?

Nah.

I bet you left that bit out of your little speech, didn't you?

You're so fucking ugly when you're wasted.

Well, I'll be sober tomorrow.

Oh, and won't that be nice!

I can't believe I had to tell everyone that you left tonight

because something important came up.

It did.

Getting fucked up with your mates?

At least they know how to write a proper number one.

Which is more than you can.

Scribbling lyrics in your little notebook,

but you're too scared to show them to anyone.

A number one and she's giving out the advice.

I didn't ask you to lie to your friends, 'cause guess what,

I don't give a fuck what they think!

You give a fuck what everyone thinks, Rob.

That's all you give a fuck about.

Dickhead.

We need crisps.

We're alright, Nan.

Well, I don't want you wasting away on me.

They don't have washing machines in London?

Yeah, but you do it with love.

Oh, you bugger.

You should come home more often, you know.

She's slowing down.

Rubbish. Nan will outlive all of us.

Anyway, I'm about to be very busy.

I rang around and I've got a meeting

with a producer called Guy Chambers.

Nicole's got a number one.

Fucking Gary's got number ones.

And here I am turning into a farmyard animal.

I wouldn't change a hair on your head.

Bless you, Nan.

Now, I spoke to your dad.

Oh, that makes one of us.

It's been radio silence since I left the band.

He's agreed to see you again.

Agreed? What do you mean?

Well, to have you visit, on your school holidays.

He called me, remember?

He said it'd been too long.

He invited me.

Yes, that's right. I told him to.

You see?

- Oh, Jesus... - Oh, Betty.

No, no, no.

- I'm so sorry. - Oh, Betty.

No.

It's alright.

Hey, Nan, it's alright.

Shhh.

Come on. Don't cry.

It's alright.

- Shhh, Betty. - I'm so sorry, love.

It's alright, duck.

I'm sorry.

Okay, okay! Hang on, hang on. Ugh.

Listen, I appreciate you coming over,

but this isn't going to work.

Guy Chambers.

Guy likes it when I talk about the holidays we shared,

and I like it when he agrees to let me sing our songs.

You don't mind, do you?

So our lawyers had a chat...

And here we are on a beach.

Uh, lower...

You've only heard half of them.

And they're all the same.

I can't even tell when one ends and the next one begins.

It's like you've written lyrics

you think other people want to hear.

I don't know...

That might be okay in a boyband...

So you want me to get naked on the first date?

Well, it's the only way this works.

Songs are only valuable if they cost you something.

Luckily, I'm always naked on the first date.

If you're going to laugh, do it on the inside, yeah?

I dent easily.

Can you give me a C?

Fuck me.

Better make it a B flat.

Ah, this is the chorus.

And the second verse.

No, no! No! Hang on, hang on.

Um...

We have to double the chorus or it'll sound crap.

What was that list? Lost...

Right, that's the hook. That's the gold.

The 'something beautiful' bit is cream on top. You've got...

And then you repeat. You understand?

- Yeah. - Right.

Pick it up from the chorus,

and, you know, give it some welly.

Even if it's shit, you got to make it your shit.

Two, three...

There you go!

One more time.

You're not as crap as I thought.

Thanks.

We need to clean it up a bit but it's a start.

Now, what else have you got in there?

And coming up we have a surprise guest in the studio.

It's none other than ex-Take That bad boy,

Robbie Williams!

Chris Briggs - manager to the stars.

Amazingly, he saw something in me.

I mean, besides monstrous amounts of drugs and booze.

It'll be nice and intimate.

Fifty people or so - contest winners,

so they'll be super excited.

And just remember it's going out live,

so mind your 'shits' and 'fucks'.

You should start with a cover, something people recognise.

We want them to recognise our songs.

And they will, but you have to woo them first.

You gotta get me to Knebworth.

How about you get through this one

without giving yourself a heart attack?

Just get me there, alright?

Baby steps, mate.

Look, I know this isn't much of a gig, but--

Oh, I don't know. Blackpool, Knebworth... Hi!

Plus, we need the air time. What have you got to lose?

I would've said my dignity

but Take That already stole it, so...

I mean it, Briggsy, I have got to play Knebworth.

Whatever it takes.

It'll take everything.

Sure you're ready for that?

Then make every performance count.

Light 'em up.

One, two, three, four.

You're going to die!

You've left the safety of the band

and now you're going out on your own.

How does that feel?

I couldn't be happier.

I'm finally free, you know,

and this is only the beginning.

Come on!

Well, the first punches have been thrown

and it's Gary Barlow at number one...

Light 'em up.

...while Robbie's first album, "Life Thru A Lens",

has debuted at number eleven.

- Robbie's fate now rests... - Oh!

...on a national charm offensive tour.

Lock up your daughters,

lock up your sons.

It's Robbie Williams!

You know what I need you to do!

One, two, three, four.

I'm gonna rip your fucking eyes out!

With his new album...

Come on! ...rocketing up the charts,

ladies and gentlemen, Robbie Williams!

Please welcome Robbie Williams.

Robbie Williams, ladies and gentlemen.

He's an internationally loved star...

I wanna sing, goddamnit!

And I wanna dance.

Being a pop star means

you can live all your fantasies.

I think it's what's known as the 'lucky bastard'.

Well, you know, being in a relationship means

I've put away my shagging boots.

But I know where the closet is.

You know the great thing is

I've actually arrived now, because back... back at home,

I've been voted the 'Rear of the Year'.

Is that right? You gonna show us?

So it's fair to say you're box office, right?

I've got me platinum disc

and then I'm getting a double platinum disc now.

It means I'm very famous.

We are coming for you!

You can't write. You haven't got 'it'. You've got nothing!

You are fucking dead!

Move! Move!

Light 'em up!

- Robbie! - Fuck off, the lot of ya!

Fuck off!

And the winner is... Robbie Williams.

- Robbie Williams! - It's Robbie Williams!

And the winner is Robbie Williams!

- Robbie Williams... - Robbie Williams!

A perfect end to a great night

for Robbie Williams.

I'm sure you all recognise this young man,

but did you know he had a famous father?

No!

If any of you lovely ladies wanna come up

and sit on Santa's knee,

I'll see what I've got in my sack for you.

Rob?!

Brrrr.

Light 'em up.

Whoa!

We're going to peel your skin off.

Slit your throat.

We are going to fucking murder you!

Where are you going to run?

Where are you going to fucking hide?

You useless little prick!

You're going to die alone, you cunt!

You're fucking replaceable!

You can't escape this!

Oh, yes, put it there, son.

Fan-bloody-tastic!

- Listen to that. It's deafening. - Robbie! Robbie!

Oh, thank you. I'm the dad.

Taught him everything he knows.

Peter Conway.

You know what, Chris, entrances and exits.

No one cares about that stuff anymore.

But tonight, you outshone Tom Jones, lad!

Oh, look at him. Just another day at the office.

Well, this is going to knock your socks off.

Rob! Rob!

Guess who's playing Knebworth next summer?

Knebworth! Ha ha!

Wait till I tell the lads!

Hey, have you thought about a support act?

Now, I could do you a couple of numbers.

Four at most.

It's incredible.

It also comes with a new record deal.

It's obscene!

Yeah-heh-heh!

Look at you! You're bulletproof. Ha ha!

Oh, I need a drink.

Look at this! Just what the doctor ordered.

Okay, I'll leave you to celebrate.

Congratulations.

Thanks, Chris.

Knebworth.

How does it feel?

Crippling.

It'll sink in.

It's like someone's picked sides for an after-school game

and it's all gone horribly, horribly wrong.

I mean, it's...

It's one against thousands.

Bollocks! The audience loves ya.

I can't do it.

I can't carry Knebworth.

I'll be like a lamb to the fucking slaughter, Dad.

- It's just stage fright. - You're not listening!

No. It's normal. Okay?

You know what's always helped me?

A little bit of Dutch courage.

Don't I know it.

Dad, I'm sorry. Dad!

No one buys a ticket to hear your problems, son.

You wanna know why these people are gods?

'Cause they make other people's problems go away.

Dad, Dad, stay. Please!

Whoa!

My next guest has been climbing the charts

- and conquering the world. - Here he is!

Ready? Here's daddy's best mate.

Ladies and gentlemen, Robbie Williams!

Well, this has been

a sudden change in fortune for you, has it not?

I mean, you're flying high.

Sober as a judge, Parky.

Well, uh...

Sorry, sorry, I have to do this.

Ooh!

Look, Nan, it's Parky!

Oh, Betty! It's Robert.

Let's talk if we may

about this success you've been having.

I mean, it's not the first time,

is it?

You've had it before with Take That.

Would you say that this is a different kind of success?

It means a great deal more to me now.

I'm about to perform in front of a record crowd

at Knebworth in a few weeks.

No, no, stop it. It's nothing.

It's only the biggest music event in British history!

That's my boy.

But, of course, Knebworth is not the only record

you've broken recently, is it?

There's the matter of your new deal with EMI -

eighty million pounds.

- How does that feel? - Ah, I don't know.

I'm rich beyond my wildest dreams!

I thought I was quoting that lady

who famously won the lottery.

- But she said... - Spend, spend, spend!

So no one got it.

Mind you, I've said worse things in interviews.

How would you describe your time with Take That?

I was very fortunate to be in Take That...

...and four out of the five Spice Girls.

Posh said no, didn't she?

Uh, now, you've connected with many women in the past--

Oh, we're going to talk about my sex life.

Well, I suppose...

There's nothing to write home about.

Which is a shame 'cause Mum loves getting those letters.

Oh, I mean,

how many flat tyres can you have?

The second one...

...we didn't even get out of the car.

There was no way Natalie was gonna ruin her hair,

so they just jacked it up with us all inside.

And the weather was--

I'm just popping to the loo.

The weather was horrendous.

At least the sound was good.

My voice was tired, though.

Probably because I wasn't sleeping.

Which is weird because the bed was insanely comfortable.

I even got the name of the mattress in case we wanted...

But you're finally settling down?

I have to be a realist.

You know, we're both on tour a lot,

and it can be difficult, you know.

So tell me, what's it like for Robbie Williams

to be in love?

Well, that's difficult too.

Um...

Flings are much easier.

You make me feel so small...

...and I've hated you for it...

...for making me feel so...

...unnecessary.

The fucking awful things you do...

I thought you couldn't help it.

But you just don't want to.

And I can't help you anymore.

Rob?

Rob?

Rob, please say something.

Baby...

- Nic, please! - You're a fucking animal!

Babe... Babe, you need to calm down.

Don't tell me what I need.

Listen...

- Get out! - I can fix it!

You're too fucking late!

But I love you!

Easy! Easy now. Come on.

Briggsy...

Oh, what the fuck.

- He's alright. - Course I am!

Shit!

You should've said 'no' to this one.

To "Top of the Pops"?

You can't buy this kind of promotion.

What's to promote? Knebworth's sold out.

The world tour.

What, he just does Knebworth

and then he pops his feet up, does he?

You thought getting to the top was hard.

Try staying there.

- On in five. - Come on, you're up.

Leave it.

Ooh, it's a woman!

Hi, Mum, I'm about to go on "Top..."

Where have you been?

- I've been trying to reach you. - I know, I know, but listen.

I'll have to talk to you later, ducky head,

because my pianist, well, he's accidentally shat himself,

and it's just a horror show.

It's your nan.

She kept asking for ya.

I tried calling ya, but...

I'm so sorry, love. She's gone.

Come on, mate. Let's go.

Whoever pulls the sword out of the stone

gets to be the new King of England.

He's here tonight to sing

what has become the unofficial national anthem.

It's the song on everyone's lips and in everyone's hearts.

Ladies and gentlemen, the ego has landed.

So the next thing you know,

all the knights are straining...

...and turning red.

But nobody could budge it.

So you can imagine

how everyone laughed

when little Arthur stepped up for his turn.

Everyone.

Except Merlin.

Merlin just stroked his beard and whispered,

"Arthur,

"I know those sexy, muscular knights couldn't do it

"and you're just a little fart of a child

"with puny little arms.

"But I believe in you."

They were out of salt and vinegar.

I don't want 'em.

Okay.

Hey, we should get the boys together.

Hey? Have a little knees-up before your concert tomorrow.

It'd do you good.

I can't face it.

Zip me up.

Fucking hell. What time's lift-off?

- It helps hide the fat. - Oh, yeah.

You've no idea what it takes to get up there.

I can't sleep.

My back's fucked.

Yeah, but once you're up there, you're smashing it, so...

See, that fucks me right off when people say that.

Being up there's the worst bit.

Pays alright, though.

Fuck.

You don't understand.

No, no, I don't understand.

But at least I'm trying.

You know all I wanted

was for you to ask me, just once, how I'm doing.

You know, with work and my little girl or...

I'm about to walk out

to 125,000 people!

You've got no fucking idea what that feels like.

Yeah, and you've no idea that I earn in a month

what you fucking snort in a minute.

Or... or... or that Kayleigh's shacked up

with some fucking butcher,

and so I'm living in an estate

surrounded by fucking psychopaths!

Or that I only get to see my kid

for two hours every fortnight or--

- So you need money? - Fucking hell!

You know, jealousy don't suit you, Nate.

Jeal... Are you fucking kidding?!

Alright, yeah, I might have close to fuck-all,

but you, you have fucking nothing!

And this coming from you -

a nothing, nobody cunt!

You know the difference between me and you, Nate?

It's not my money, it's not your kid.

It's the fact that I had the fucking balls

to make something of myself.

Yeah.

You bought a ticket to the dream,

and the dream came true, and...

Yeah, fuck it, I am, I'm jealous of that.

But you can keep the fucking rest.

Nate! Nate!

Nate!

Fuck!

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

And the crowd goes mild!

Time to get ready, youth.

Going by helicopter and all.

Youth?

Oh, Jesus Christ!

Oh, shit.

Youth!

You bastard! I thought you'd passed out.

I have waited my whole life for you to step up.

And all it took was booking the biggest concert

in British history.

What are you going on about?

When you left us--

Where's all this coming from?

All those years, I thought he's just sorting himself out.

He'll miss me so much and he'll come back.

Yeah, and I did.

Yeah.

'Cause Nan made you.

I didn't leave you with nothing, though, did I?

Where do you think your talent comes from?

Jesus Christ.

You've forgotten how fucking lucky you are,

that's your problem.

It's a privilege to do what we do.

What we do?

You live in a caravan.

You perform to fifteen fucking people a night.

And I love every second of it.

And I don't need pills to get me through.

Fucking hell...

Sure, I'd give anything to play to a big crowd.

Of course I would!

But if I only ever played to one person

for the rest of my life,

I'd be happy giving them everything I've got.

Unless that person was me, though, right?

Really?! Who's been cheering you on from the wings, hey?

Who was it who stopped ya from ruining your career?

There wouldn't be a Robbie Williams

if it wasn't for me.

You've always been there for Robbie Williams, Dad.

Why couldn't you just be there for Robert?

You off to watch the football, then, yeah?

Nice one.

I'll see you in six years!

You don't have it.

That's why you never made it!

Not as a husband, not as a father, not as anything!

Peter Conway doesn't fucking have it!

Everything has come down to this.

They've come for me.

And I'm going to die out there.

This is the end.

Light 'em up.

Good evening, Knebworth.

My name is Robbie Williams.

This is my band.

And for the next two hours, your arse is mine!

We're going to slaughter you.

You're fucking useless!

You've got nowhere to go!

Do everyone a favour and fucking end it!

There's only one way out!

You don't deserve to fucking live.

You will never be enough!

No, no, noooo!

Argh!

Argh!

I lost the house.

The worst thing was I lost the ability to care.

You are next, if you want to share.

I feel a bit stupid, to be honest.

I'm just a chav that got everything they ever wanted.

It's a bit fucking embarrassing, to be frank.

I was taught that fame would solve everything.

But fame's got fuck-all to do with me.

It's about acting out everyone else's fantasies.

The shagging, the boozing, the showing your bollocks on TV

and people cheering you for it.

Fame looks good in a photo.

They say your life freezes at the age you become famous.

So I am fifteen.

I'm stunted.

I'm unevolved.

And that's why I'm always like, "Oh, it's okay.

"I think I'm a cunt. I'm fine with it."

So I get in there before you do.

And I fucking hate myself for it.

Sometimes it's a curse to get everything we want.

Repairing close relationships

is a good first step to repairing ourselves.

You did it. And you deserve this.

Good evening, folks. Good evening, you slags.

No, good evening, folks.

So, who is Robbie Williams?

Well, I've been called many things -

narcissistic, punchable, shit-eating twat.

But while I'm all those things,

I want to show you how I really see myself.

So, sit back, relax,

while I give you a right fucking entertaining.

So, the story starts...

This is the last song of the evening.

It's sadder than that.

It's much sadder than that.

Thank you for being a wonderful audience tonight

and making my dream come true.

I want to thank my mum...

...for being there when I needed ya.

Always.

I love you.

You guessed it, folks!

If you know the words, sing up.

If you don't, shut up, it'll sound crap.

I love you, Robbie!

Come on.

Now, I couldn't finish the show

without mentioning someone else here tonight.

I share a lot of the same mannerisms as this person.

People say I sing a bit like him too.

He's made me who I am -

all the good things and a touch of the bad.

And I wouldn't be where I am without him.

We haven't performed together for...

...twenty five years.

But I've wanted to every day since.

Please welcome to the stage...

...my dad.

Thank you very much.

What do you think, youth, shall we light 'em up?

Tell it like it is, Dad.

Me too.

- I'm sorry, Robert. - I know, Dad.

You always had it, you know.

Now, look at you. You're one of the gods.

Peter Conway, everybody.

My dad!

Or at least that's what Mum told us.

Oh, Robbie...

We love you!

Nan! This is your grandson singing and I love you.

Who did I love when I was a kid?

I loved Frank Sinatra.

Come on!

And I loved my dad and he's an entertainer.

Shit! That's who I am. That feels good to me.

I want to make the twelve-year-old at my nan's,

watching TV on a Saturday night, feeling safe.

I wanted to make that same twelve-year-old

feel safe onstage.

I'm a fucking entertainer.

It might be cabaret, but it's world-class cabaret,

and I'm the fucking best at it.

Fuck yourselves!