Oasis: Time Flies...

All Around the World

Noel was going through the post that had arrived this morning. They always delivered junk to the studio, advertisements and stuff that were completely useless to the building and everyone who used it, course we couldn't subscribe to bloody Sky TV.

There wasn't much else he could do so he was just pottering about since Liam and Guigsy were laid out on the sofas, fast asleep, basically passed out from last night. Bonehead was awake and looking alive but still there wasn't much we could do without the singer and bass guitarist, well we could, Noel reckons he could do it all himself, he'd play a one man orchestra if he could, if he ever broke away from us like he always threatened. But there was also the fact that if Liam was woken up and was in anything less than a great mood, they would fight and I for one couldn't be bothered with dealing with that today.

I wouldn't be surprised if the album never got finished because one of us had an overdose or liver failure or something. No one was in control, our producer Owen was meant to be minding us, babysitting but he was doing just as much coke as we was. McGee trusted us far more than he should and was yet to check up on us.

The whole thing was mad and very, very loud but we were trapped in it, the fame goldfish bowl, surrounded only by people who kept us out of touch, believing we were the kings of the court and the whole world, every single member of planet earth was waiting for this album, these songs. These stupid, shit, grandiose songs that would be abandoned by anyone sane.

"Someone's sent us a letter." he observed, he held up the letter to show me, discarding the junk mail. "What the fuck?"

He looked at the return address but it meant nothing to him. "What the fuck is this? It's addressed to Oasis, not me, or him, or anyone, the band, who addresses a letter to a band?"

We had fan letters and stuff before but that looked official, crisp white but plain, no logo or anything that'd give the sender away.

He held it up to the light, frowning at it, squinting, trying to read it without opening it. "The fuck is Virgin Space-Airways?"

"Just open it, Chief." I told him impatiently, knowing what he was going to read..

He ripped it open, threw the envelope (the studio was a mess anyway, take away boxes, papers, equipment cables, drug shit, one more piece of litter was nothing) and read it, his mouth gently moved with the words. "We've got tickets for a trip to the Moon. What is this nonsense?"

"It's exactly that, a holiday trip into space, destination, the Moon." I explained wondering if he'd believe me and agree to it.

"Are we still tripping here, Whitey?" he asked, furrowing his massive eyebrows at me, confused as all hell.

"No, it's real." I'd booked the trip without telling anyone, we needed a break and it was about the only place we hadn't been to before so it was perfect. "Surprise!"

"You want us lot to go away for a holiday on the Moon?" He thought it was completely and utterly fucking mad but there was a hint that he was impressed, intrigued too. "I don't want to take a fucking rocket to the Moon, not with him." He flicked his eyes towards Liam who was still snoozing..

They were seriously struggling to get along. As far as I knew it had always been like this but it was just getting worse. Their problem was they were a massive clash of egos and they were too stubborn to ever back down. They lived to get on each other's nerves. He wouldn't be here if he wasn't a massive control freak, he didn't want to quit or anything, he loved the job too much, he just hated his brother. Liam, on the other hand was still around because the idea that he'd fade from the limelight terrified him.