In My Life

It's been a hard day's night

"Well, yer very pretty, Paulie. John casually popped Paul's jacket under his own pillow and took hold of his foot again. "Except yer feet. Dead grotty, those are." He cleared his throat and copied the posh accent George had used earlier, "Which brings us back to the topic at hand. Now that C.I. Harrison has concluded you're guilty, what shall we do for punishment? Any suggestion, fellows?"

Pete chimed in, "tickle 'im to death, I'd say." Stuart and George nodded in appreciation of the suggestion, and John cheered, "make it so, lads!" The condemned tried again in vain to break loose. Paul knew his friends would be relentless. "Nooo, anything but that," he pleaded, but his cries fell on deaf ears. By the time the band retreated to their respective beds, Paul was completely hoarse from the hysterical fits of laughter and gasping for breath.

Moments like that made their days in Hamburg a lot of fun, and they did enjoy their big adventure. It was just that the harsh reality of life on the strip grew on them faster than the bleak room in which they spent their quiet, more introspective hours, making their nights often depressing. Eventually, they sort of got used to washing themselves in the putrid smell of the ladies' bog, and they even learned to more or less block out the sounds of people pissing while they were trying to get some sleep after a long night on stage. They even managed to add a splash of colour to the otherwise bare room in the form of their Union Jacks, which they used as blankets. There hadn't been any linens to speak of and though the flags were very thin, meaning they were still freezing at night, the feeling of being wrapped in something from home made their hearts feel a lot warmer.

In spite of their initial disappointment, the lads soon embraced their new job. Egged on by the owner of the club, who'd yell at them to 'mach Schau', they put their best foot forward and before long, they had evolved into a tight act. By October, they had a huge repertoire of songs that they could play brilliantly. As word got out on the energy of their shows, they drew larger audiences and were regarded one of the better acts on the Reeperbahn. The lads were thrilled when they were moved to a place called Kaiserkeller, which had a dance floor, and waiters, and a bigger audience.

The bigger venue came at a price, they soon discovered. The rowdy audience was very demanding and violent, so the boys poured every bit of energy into their shows in order to keep the drunken servicemen happy. They were required to work much longer hours and even though the Beatles, as they had changed their name to, alternated sets with fellow Liverpudlians Rory Storm & the Hurricanes, they soon found themselves utterly knackered.

"Man, how do they do that?" Stu shook his head in amazement at the energy displayed by Rory and his band. The lads were on their break, and they were all slumped in their chairs, dreading their last set of the night. John raised his head from the table and groaned, "I don't know man, but I'll have what they're havin'. I'm too tired to even get up to go to the fuckin' loo." Grunts of agreement could be heard from several of the band members.

A waiter appeared at their table, "Here are your beers, boys," he beamed. Pete managed a "Ta, mate," before downing half his pint in one go. He put down his glass and looked up at the waiter, who was still standing next to them. "What is it, Otto?" Otto moved in a little closer and spoke quietly, "You boys are tired, no? I have something that helps you. Make you play longer." He showed them some pills, and continued, "You take one, you play all night. Easy."

The lads exchanged glances, and John picked up one of the pills. He gestured his head towards the stage, "Is that what they're takin'?" When Otto nodded, John slowly raised the pill to his mouth, only to be stopped by Paul. "Hang on, John. Ye don't even know what's in these pills, mate. Maybe we shouldn't take the risk."

"It's okay, all the bands take the Prellies," Otto interjected. He looked amused at Paul's reaction. "You can take one, it is safe. It helps. Trust me, I am your friend." That obviously was all John needed to hear, and he quickly washed down the pill with a big swig of his beer before Paul could continue to protest. When he saw the others follow suit, Paul caved. "Oh well, if this makes us barmy, we may as well be barmy together."