The World Spinning Round (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

Prologue

Paul McCartney had lost the plot.

At least that's what Barry Miles thought when his friend showed up at his door for the sixth night in a row with a bottle of whisky dangling from his hand. For hours, he'd paced around the flat rambling semi-coherently, his thoughts zigzagging like a mad bumper car ride. His statements careened from the emotional to the practical to the truly far-out.

What's the purpose of love, anyway? Suppose it's just a passing fad or, y'know, one of those mind-control things run by the Tories. We're all fucking sheep when it comes down to it, aren't we? AREN'T WE? Are you even listening, Sue?!

The coat check girl from Samantha's said that the best pot comes from Isfahan. We should get some.

Do you ever feel like a supporting character in your own story? Like the script is there and you're just meant to mime the words, but it's all so goddamn stifling that you can't. Do ya know what I mean, Miles?

And why won't anyone fucking confirm if the fucking Kinks used a fucking tape delay? Who do I have to blow to find out?!

By the end of the tenth night, it was clear that Paul had lost not only the plot but also the subplot and the bloody character arc as well.

While he never spelled out what exactly had transpired between himself and Alice, it was easy enough for Miles and Sue to deduct several things:  Firstly, it had been Alice who had left. Secondly, it was clear that Paul had done something unforgivable, which, Paul being Paul, was pretty obvious. Thirdly, the fact that she'd disappeared made him feel helpless, and that in itself was slowly driving him barmy.

"He absolutely shagged someone," Sue opined in a loud whisper once Paul had passed out on their well-worn sofa. She'd pulled Miles into the kitchen and shut the door before pulling his face close to hers.

"He shagged someone and she found out and she left him. Good for her. He's careless when he wants to be, isn't he? If you ask me--"

"Your voice is a bit loud, love," Miles interrupted, only to be shut down by The Look from his wife.

"--it's high time that he learned that the rules apply to him too."

Miles nodded and agreed heartily, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that the rules really didn't apply to any of the Beatles, and they hadn't for years. And it wasn't likely that they'd suddenly begin to anytime soon.

"Does he not have other friends?" Sue finally lowered her voice. "Why's he coming round here every night?"

Miles had asked himself the same thing several times. On the one hand, he appreciated that Paul felt comfortable turning to them when times were tough. Though perhaps they were simply the least famous people he knew, and he didn't want to attract any additional attention. Regardless, Paul working through the five stages of grief in their living room was getting tiresome. They had their own shit to deal with; they didn't have the bandwidth to look after him any longer.

Luckily for them, the Beatles soon went off on their Magical Mystery Tour. And luckily for Paul, that nonsense delayed the press from finding out that Alice had disappeared into thin air. Because when they finally figured it out, all hell broke loose.

Paul refused to comment but did slip an off-hand remark into a televised interview. While he said very little of substance, his eyes somehow managed to communicate that he was a classy fellow and none of this was his fault. Then he fucked off to Scotland to hide until the drama died down, a strategy that would serve him well for the next few decades.

Once he returned, it was clear that he was adrift. His heart was shattered, or at least severely bruised, but Northern lads didn't cry over girls. And Beatle Paul wasn't allowed to nurse a broken heart, so instead, he shagged anything in a skirt in a desperate attempt to move on. Miles would run into him at happenings around town and it was just girl after girl after girl. He wondered if Paul bothered to learn their names or just  cheerfully thanked them in the morning before sending them on their way.