The following programme contains strong language.
That's nice.
You know the rules, Paul.
You're not allowed in at night.
Well, I had my lawyer read the small print.
And he said it's OK.
As long as I don't touch the floor.
It's the opposite to snooker, incidentally.
Actually, for once, I've not come for a kiss and cuddle.
Or the other one.
Come with me.
Mmm.
Catchy.
Yeah. And I dreamt it. Just now.
I don't understand why -that's so interesting. -Well...
it's never happened before.
How do you normally come up -with your tunes? -I don't know.
Me and John just usually kick things into shape.
Good, well...you look into that.
In the morning.
You know, when the sun comes up and the humans awake.
You know, it's a really lovely chord progression.
You've got the F, E-minor, A-seven, D-minor.
Does it sound familiar at all? It does, yes.
What is it?
It's familiar because you've just played it 16 times.
Huh. Well, I need to.
See if it unlocks any memories of the melody.
Mrs Asher, you're musical. What is it?
I teach oboe.
It's not a favourite instrument in the pop world.
Well, maybe it's not a pop tune.
Could be Bach. Or Beethoven.
Or Dickie Wagner.
Do you know, I can't even think of a lyric that fits.
As much as we enjoy having you,
wouldn't you rather be living with the other Beatles?
Oh, we've been living in each other's pockets for five years.
And they're messy, you know?
I tried to organise a tidying rota, but nothing.
Ooh.
Sorry. Sorry.
Thank you, Mrs Asher.
Yes, Margaret, smashing scrambled eggs.
♪ Scrambled eggs...
♪ Scrambled... # "Scrambled eggs".
You're a genius, Mr Asher.
It's the right number of syllables so I don't forget the tune.
And it's a tasty snack.
♪ Scrambled eggs
♪ Oh my baby how I love your legs ♪
She's my daughter. Have some decorum.
And my legs are horrible.
Don't draw attention to them.
Sorry.
♪ I love your legs
♪ But not as much As I love scrambled eggs
♪ Oh we should eat Some scramble eggs ♪
Girls, come on, keep it down. We've talked about this.
This is Wimpole Street.
Posh folk are trying to buy pricey drugs.
Now, get off to school.
You might find education proves a little more useful
than breathing in my aura.
And Peggy... don't run after the car this time.
OK, I-I won't. I won't. I promise.
Bye! I'll miss you!
Have a great day!
We should get a drum kit in for you.
Are you saying I need the practice?
Well, you do go to hit the drum and miss a lot.
That's all I'm saying. I do miss a lot, yeah.
You'll need your shoes, babe.
Oh, yeah.
Take George's.
He can use Ringo's wellingtons.
She wears them with aplomb.
She does.
I usually wear a couple of plums with mine.
I saw that, yeah. You double up the plums.
Hello. Goodbye.
Nice lyric.
All right?
How's your bedsit? Great.
How's your bedlam?
We're just trying to reap the fruits of Beatlemania.
It may be over by Christmas.
And I'm with the girl I love.
And her family.
Plus, it's handy for the dentist.
I love Beatlemania.
Cos I get to use my disguises.
All right, love.
George wants tea.
How many more has George got in there?
Maybe it's the same one climbing back in his window.
Anyway, listen to this.
He's a very winning performer, isn't he?
What is that tune?
I don't recognise it. It's not one of ours.
I know that, you div.
I dreamt that last night - fully formed.
♪ Scrambled eggs
♪ Oh my baby how I love your legs ♪
It's true I lag some way behind you as a lyricist
Well, I'm not gonna polish it up if it's not my song.
Might be someone else's. Yeah, maybe.
It is a bit Mantovani.
We're a rock 'n' roll band.
Well, we could give it to Cilla.
Or Ken Dodd.
Ben Modd and his Deddymen,
one of the great mucus hall anti-drainers.
Why'd you do that?
Horse of rabbit.
♪ Mantelpiece
♪ Keep your knickknacks On your mantelpiece ♪
I think it could be one of the great songs, you know?
It's got a bit of class.
Can't be that great if I didn't help you write it.
I don't need you to write a song, Johnny boy.
You fucking do.
So, there's at least two of them.
I'm afraid this is a band meeting, -sweetheart. -Oh.
Sorry.
Love you, Paul.
Thanks.
Love you, John. Ta.
Do you remember when Ringo came to us with that song he'd written?
Don't, come on. "Hey, lads?
Listen to this song I wrote. It took me all day.
It's brilliant."
"Ringo, it's Blowing In The Wind by Bob Dylan."
Biggest crime in music, ripping off someone else's tune.
Shit, now I've written "Bob Dylan".
That'll be one of the valuable ones.
I'm gonna sign this one "Mickey Mouse...
King of the Blues".
See if anyone notices.
'Ey, George, do you recognise this?
Is it a guitar?
Well, thanks for your help, lads
I'm gonna go and work on this song.
Bye, Paul. See ya, matey.
I love you! I love you!
Girls, if you're not gonna go to school,
at least do something useful.
Like go to the zoo. It's only up the road.
Paul, are you gonna marry Jane?
Jane who?
Why don't you live in a big mansion of your own?
Because I'd get sad. I grew up in a shoebox.
Wow!
No, no, that's like a metaphor.
Paul, can I have your hanky? I use my sleeve.
Can I have your sleeve? No.
♪Moon River
♪ Moon river... # Scrambled eggs...
♪Sugar And Spice
♪ Sugar and spice and all... # Nope.
♪ Scrambled... # Georgia...
Georgia, scrambled?
♪ I only wanna be with you... # Nope.
♪ THE CONTOURS Do you love me?
♪ I can really move
♪ Do you love me? # Scrambled eggs! ♪
♪ I'm in the groove Well do you love... ♪
♪ Washers and screws And nails by the pound
♪ If you can't find it there It can't be found...
Hello. Hi.
Where have you been? I haven't seen you for ages.
Oh, you know, being a Beatle.
Keeps me busy.
It's going quite well.
You're not still obsessing about that tune?
No. What, that? No.
Just listening to my favourites.
♪ A pick, shovel, spade, or rake
♪ American made It'll never break... ♪
Do you think Chuck Berry signs his own photographs?
Course he doesn't.
He isn't given homework like a schoolboy.
He's treated like a proper artist.
Buck Cherry the...
frock 'n' bowl singer doesn't...
slime his own photo...
guffs.
Speaking nonsense is harder than it looks, isn't it?
Don't worry. You're doing a fantastic job.
Are you all right, John?
Yeah. I'm all right.
Are you all right?
♪ Oh we should eat
♪ Some scrambled eggs ♪
It's a nice chord progression, isn't it?
'Yeah, like it. I mean, we wouldn't play it,
cos it's, like, too sad and middle-of-the-road,
you know?' But you don't recognise it?
'Hold it, Paul. I've just got to refresh my beverage.'
I'll leave the money for the call.
Where are you ringing? That's my mate Mick in Kingston.
In Surrey?
No, it's... Kingston, Jamaica.
'Yeah! Ice! But don't crowd out the rum.
Yeah, no, Paul, I don't recognise your little tune.'
Thanks, Mick.
'So, all right, you want a number?
Three ice cubes.
Just bring the bottle.
Oh er, and I'll have some... What is it? Guava.
Guava chunks.
Paul, I'd better split. I've got a catering crisis here.'
Bye, Mick!
'Ey, that was Mick Jagger.
Come on, Hilda.
What is it pours of you, Paul?
Why are you worrying about one song?
Cos it's special.
It's driving me insane.
I feel like I've found something
and handed it into the police station to see if anyone claims it.
Plus, I've pissed off John.
Cos I keep on going on about this song I dreamt being so great.
You can't tiptoe around his ego your whole life.
Well, maybe this is the beginning of the end.
We'll be like... Well, I don't know.
Who ended up hating each other?
Adam and Eve?
I was thinking a bit more recent, but yeah.
John knows he needs you to write with him.
Well, I'll worry about John
when I've figured out where my song comes from.
Please let's just go on holiday and put this behind us.
I've never heard that song before.
Yeah but it would be embarrassing
if we record it and find out it's one of Cliff Richards.
It's yours, Paul!
Yeah.
Yeah, great.
Let's move on.
Hi, Cliff. It's me, Paul.
'What?'
Paul McCartney.
'It's two the morning.' Yeah, sorry.
But I figured, you know, "Cliff, Mr Rock-'n'-roll,
he'll still be up partying all night."
'Did you just see Summer Holiday
and want to tell me how much you enjoyed it?'
Yes. But also...
I dreamt this melody and I don't know if it's original or not,
and I need to find out before my head explodes.
Do you recognise this?
♪ Scrambled eggs ♪
'Those are terrible lyrics, Paul.'
No, they're just there - 'Did Ringo do them?'
No. 'Ask John.
He'll rhyme you up something clever.
John's terrific, isn't he? 'How he manages...'
The cheek of it, though.
Going on and on about it.
"Could be one of the great songs, you know?
Could have a bit of class."
Yeah, he's already not living with us,
as though we are unclean or something.
He's got some nerve.
He's ringing everyone about it.
Scared the shit out of Dusty Springfield.
And was it a good song? Was it really?
Not at all. No.
Though it did have a pleasant sweetness to it, didn't it?
It did.
But considering Paul's supposed to be the nice Beatle,
he can be an annoying fucker.
♪ He loves me, yeah, yeah, yeah
♪ He...loves me, yeah, yeah, yeah
♪ He...loves...
♪ He loves me - ♪
It's C! The chord is bloody C!
Jesus! He's normally really nice.
He is so nice. Are you OK, Paul?
I'm sorry. Look, I'm sorry.
As you're here, do you recognise this tune?
Look, I... I can't do this unless you get back.
Get back.
Write those two words down.
Right, ignore the lyrics. Here goes.
♪ Scrambled eggs
♪ Oh my baby how I love your legs
♪ But not as much As I love scrambled eggs
♪ Oh we should eat Some scrambled eggs ♪
Well, does it ring any bells?
Do Love Me Do. Do Love me Do really quickly for us.
Please!
Will you teach me, Paul? Just one lesson?
Paul?
Can we have a word, please?
We know that genius comes at a price.
Many great composers drove themselves a bit mad,
like... Bruckner, Schumann.
Mozart, Berlioz.
Tchaikovsky, Gesualdo, Scriabin, Schoenberg -
Ta.
That's probably enough.
After all, what is composing if not hearing voices?
Though we think you should move on now.
I just need a couple more days -
I am a doctor... It's not helping...
It's your song, Paul. Just record it!
OK.
I wrote that song. It's mine.
Thank you.
What's good is it shows I can write a great song on my own, if need be.
Yes. I don't need John or anyone.
I'm gonna ring him and tell him. Er, no... Paul...
Just let this blow over for a couple of weeks
while we go on holiday.
Yeah.
Probably best to let John cool down a bit, I suppose.
Pardon me, pardon me, pardon me.
Excuse me.
Can you youths confirm that this is the house
of the nice Beatle Mr O'Cartney?
It's "McCartney".
Oh, my God! Oh, my God, it's John!
OK, fangirls. I have some business with your leader inside.
Can I have your beard, John?
Sorry, I need it for my Toulouse-Lautrec evenings.
Hey, it looks great. Don't take it off.
I'm just going to say it.
So is this a new thing? What?
Writing on your own.
That song. No.
It came in a dream.
Well, we've all done that.
Hey, do you fancy a cuppa? No.
I've got some pills on the go back at the flat.
Look, we've written everything together,
and you know, it's been amazing, but if that's gonna change...
Don't be daft. ..I can always ring up Elvis
and start writing with him.
Look, as far as I'm concerned...
we'll still be knocking out tunes together in our 90s.
Many years from now.
I'm looking forward to it.
Now fuck off.
No. You fuck off.
I've had a talk with Mr O'Cartney,
and I believe it offers peace in our time.
Thank God that's over.
Now we can go on holiday without you torturing me.
Yeah. Yeah.
Just need to write the lyrics now.
Did you get the suitcases -out the loft? -No.
Paul!
I asked you to do that yesterday.
♪Yesterday
♪ Yesterday...
♪ All my troubles Seemed so far away
♪ Now it looks as though They're here to stay
♪ Oh I believe in yesterday
♪ Suddenly
♪ I'm not half the man I used to be
♪ There's a shadow hanging over me
♪ Oh yesterday came suddenly ♪
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