Yeah Yeah Yeah (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

5. Don't Quit Your Day Job

October 1965
London

Paul

John didn't look up from his guitar until I was halfway through the story. It wasn't evident if he was even listening until, mid-sentence, I realized that he was trying his very best to contain his laughter.

"It's not funny!" I insisted.

He glanced up with a look of unadulterated glee on his face. "Funniest fucking story I've heard in ages."

"It was a whole mess of girls swarming around me like rabid bees. I would've been pulverized if Mal hadn't had the foresight to stay close by. It was a whole kerfuffle by the time he managed to rescue me."

"Oh, quit your whinging. She's a keeper," John commented admiringly.

"She's a couple of chips short of an order, if you ask me," I muttered.

The studio door opened slowly, and Ringo's shaggy head appeared. He poked his face in, and I spotted George just over his shoulder. Seeing that we were otherwise occupied, they entered the room one-by-one and sort of tiptoed to their usual spots as if we might not notice.

"We can see you, you know," I called over with a laugh. "Do you think we don't realize when you're not here?"

"Sorry, sorry," Ringo replied hurriedly. "I had to ring Mo, and well, she-- whatever, anyway, what'd I miss? Did you figure out the middle eight, John?"

"I did indeed, Ritchie," John replied. "But first, Paul here has a tale to tell."

I groaned and scrubbed my face with my hand. "No, no, I really don't. No need to rehash ancient history. Can we get back to work?"

"Ancient history?" John asked, one eyebrow raised. "It happened an hour ago."

Ringo looked over at me from behind his kit with interest. "Did you go see that bird?"

"Oh, he saw her alright," John replied on my behalf.

"Did she pop you in yer eye?" George asked hopefully.

"Even better," John interjected.

"Oh, did you two-- y'know...." George trailed off, looking intrigued.

"No!" I replied, affronted.

"It started off just as you'd expect," John continued. "He apologized, as he should have. She told him that he's a right wanker for getting her sacked, as she should have--"

"Can I tell the story so at least it's accurate?"

"And then..." John paused for dramatic effect. "She yelled 'it's Paul McCartney!' right in the middle of Carnaby Street! All the birds came flocking to him like they do, and, well, we're just lucky that he's alive and unharmed."

"No fucking way," Ringo said. He had a look of admiration on his face as if Alice was the cleverest of us all.

Next to me, John was laughing so hard that he had to put his guitar down. Watching him, Ringo joined in, and then George. Then, much to my dismay, I could hear chuckles over the speaker as everyone in the control room joined in.

"In the middle of fucking Carnaby Street!' John wheezed.

"Can we get back to work?" I asked tetchily. I mean, yeah, it was funny in a schadenfreude sort of way, but I didn't love that I'd been one-upped. I also didn't love that I couldn't get her mischievous smile out of my sodding head.

"'Course, 'course, yes, let's get back to work," John replied, taking a deep breath to quell the laughter. He picked up his Fender and started to strum.