Interior: An 80s retro shop in North London.  Marcus is the clueless 39 year old manager.  It’s late Saturday afternoon.  The shop is empty, as usual. The bell on the door rings. Karl walks into the shop on his mobile phone. Karl is in his mid-40s and is a permanent fixture in the shop, although nobody really knows what he does. He is a walking encyclopedia regarding the 1980s so Marcus lets him hang out in the shop.

KARL (has the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder so that he can work on a very old battered Rubik’s Cube):  Yeah, well, I still think it was a pretty low thing to do, Alison ... my father gave me that video game ... no, OK ... he gave me the money to get one ... no, OK ... so the money was for our honeymoon ... yeah, but it was an original 1982 Atari 5200 with the world’s first automatic TV switchbox ... no, OK ... I can see why you don’t think that’s relevant.

MARCUS:  Why are you here?

KARL (holding the mouth piece, speaks to Marcus):  You’ll have to ask my parents that.  Something to do with fertilization, cell splitting, zygotes, blah, blah, blah. (speaking into the mobile phone) Sorry, Alison. Got to go. Marcus is yelling at me again.  Uh-huh, just like what you’re doing right now ... yeah, it’s like hearing stereo for the first time, cool, I feel like Thomas Dolby. (listens to phone) Do I hear your mother’s broomstick rattling up the drive? You’d better throw a small child into the cauldron.  You know she gets tetchy when she’s hungry. Bye, sweetmeat.

MARCUS:  Karl, you only left half an hour ago. I thought you were going home?

KARL:  Yeah, about that, funny story...

MARCUS:  Alison?  I take it the marriage guidance is going well.  Time and money well spent.  Wouldn’t it be cheaper and quicker to hire a hitman?

KARL:  Alison already tried that.  Well, she bribed the cleaning lady to flush my goldfish down the lav while I was out.  Besides it’s called “arbitration” now.  I’ve spent a lot of money on it and Alison’s spent no time on it at all.  (changes the subject) So, what’s new?

MARCUS:  Loads, and it’s all out the back waiting for me to unpack it. If you’re not doing anything ... what am I saying? You never do anything. You don’t even work here. Look after the shop while I’m out back, will you?

KARL:  Sure thing, boss, leave it to me. (holds up the Rubik’s Cube) It’ll give me some quality time with little old Ruby here.

MARCUS:  Karl, you’ve been working on that thing since poly.  Why don’t you just look up the solution on the 'net?

KARL:  But that would be cheating!

MARCUS:  But that's what life all about, Karl, cheating and the Internet is the cheat’s greatest tool.

KARL:  Oh really? You keep telling me it’s only good for porn and music -

MARCUS:  Karl, shut up. I meant you have to cheat to win in life.

KARL:  Oh, I see, like the way you cheat every woman you know out of a life of commitment?

MARCUS shakes his head and leaves through the office door.  KARL hops over the counter and struts about, rearranging items on the counter.  At that point 80s pop star GARY NUMAN walks in to the shop and begins to browse.

KARL:  Hi, can I help you?

NUMAN:  Just having a look around, if that's alright?

KARL (realising who it is):  It's you!

NUMAN:  Pardon?

KARL:  You’re him ... Gary bloody Numan.

NUMAN:  No, just Gary Numan.

KARL:  Gary Numan.

NUMAN:  Yes, I think you’ve got the hang of my name.

KARL:  Err ... hang on a minute, your worship.

KARL turns to rush through the office door but fails to open it in time and knocks himself, flying off the door and onto the floor.  MARCUS comes out to find out what the loud bang was about.

MARCUS:  Karl, you alright? Where are you?

KARL:  Down here. Quick, get down here.

MARCUS:  What are you doing down there?

KARL:  Shut up and get down here!

KARL grabs MARCUS by the shirt and drags him down to the floor in one swift motion.

MARCUS:  What the hell are you playing at?

KARL:  Have you seen who’s in the shop?

MARCUS:  Well, no. It’s all a bit of a blur. One minute I’m at the door, next I’m on the floor.  Why are we on the floor?

MARCUS lifts his hand up off the floor, realises it’s sticky and pulls a face.  He looks around for somewhere to wipe his hand.  KARL points over the counter and speaks in a stage whisper.

KARL:  It’s him!

MARCUS puts his sticky hand on KARL’s shoulder to push himself up to take a quick peek over the counter.

MARCUS:  Yes, we do get customers in this shop occasionally. Lovely customers who give us their lovely money. Well, they would if you didn’t keep freaking them out!

KARL (speaks very slowly):  No, no. It’s him.

MARCUS looks over the counter once again and sees GARY NUMAN.  A large beaming smile comes over MARCUS’s face as he walks out from behind the counter with his arms outstretched in a friendly gesture.

MARCUS:  Gary! Gary, Gary, Gary!

MARCUS embraces NUMAN, squeezing him a bit too tightly.

MARCUS:  Gary Peterson, I haven’t seen you since we were at Jane’s party and we all got drunk and stole her bathroom.

NUMAN:  You what?

MARCUS:  You remember, it was our first year at poly. Jesus, I see you’re still a die hard Numan fan then? (Marcus punches Numan on the arm) “I die, You Die” eh? Get it?

NUMAN:  No, I don't think you understand. I am Gary Numan.

MARCUS:  You wish. Mind you, you always looked like him. Always was jealous about that.

NUMAN:  That's because I am Gary Numan, you idiot.  My name is Gary Numan.
(Numan points to Karl, who has been staring but looks away pretending to

be busy) Your little friend seems to get it.

MARCUS:  Oh... I get it.  Deed poll, eh? Gotcha.

NUMAN:  You live on a dreamer’s planet, my friend. You should stay in more.

KARL:  Don’t you mean get out more?

NUMAN:  No. Look at him. It’s safer for the general public.

MARCUS:  Hey, Gaz, you’re a little bit too old for this now. Taking it a bit far, aren’t you? Stop living in the past, yeah?

NUMAN:  You can talk, working in a shop from the past. (Numan starts to back out of the shop) You know, the golden rule in sales is “know your product”. You’d do well to remember that.

MARCUS:  Yeah, thanks for the advice, Peterson. Good to see you learned something from the Business Studies course. Nice seeing you. Bye. Hurry back - not.

The shop door slams.

MARCUS:  Yeah, go back to your electric friends ... in your little ... electric ... car ... with your electric toothbrush ... and your ... electric ... light bulb thingy.

MARCUS closes the door and turns to KARL, who is standing behind the counter,

finding it hard to speak.

MARCUS:  God, can you believe the guy? Still into Numan at his age.  Pathetic!

KARL:  You moron! That was the Gary Numan.

MARCUS:  Rubbish! I’m the greatest Numan fan in the country. I would recognize him a mile away.

KARL:  Well, he was just one foot away and you didn’t notice. Marcus, one day your natural talent to alienate people will come up and bite you on the backside.

MARCUS:  Okay, well, until that wonderful day, you can bite me.

MARCUS notices the mess KARL has made of the counter and starts to tidy up.  KARL resumes working on the Rubik’s Cube.

MARCUS:  Karl, will you put that bloody thing down and give me a hand with this mess.

KARL: Can’t. Busy. Besides, you’ll just say I’ve done it all wrong.

MARCUS: What is it with today? First, Peterson having his Numan strop. Now you. Is it a full moon tonight?

KARL:  Best pop into the butchers on the way home then, wolf boy! (Suddenly shouts out) I’VE DONE IT!

MARCUS:  What? Ruby? Let me see.

KARL thrusts the Rubik’s Cube in font of MARCUS’s face.

MARCUS:  Karl, you plank. You’ve got to do all six sides!

KARL:  Oh. Bugger. So, anyway, it’s Saturday, where are we going tonight?

MARCUS:  We? Sorry, Karl. Helen wants to go to a new nightclub in the West End. As you can imagine, I am so excited at the prospect.

KARL:  I can imagine. Let me think.  First there was the pouting, then some shouting, stamping of feet, and then the tears. Then she said "oh grow up"?

MARCUS:  It might have been like that.

KARL:  There's nothing wrong with going out to a club. Just try it.

MARCUS:  I did - once - and I didn't like it. You know what I’m like about other people’s sweat. Anyway, I’m too old for that kind of rubbish now. I would rather stay in, atch a movie, get drunk and get silly with Helen.

KARL:  Helen’s young. Unlike you, she’s got energy. And friends. She likes going out. I like going out. Can I come too?

MARCUS:  No! Just because you fancy her. Besides, I thought you were meant to be seeing your psychotic wife tonight.

KARL:  Alison. Huh, about that ... well she kind of told me I was not to come to the house unless I wanted some impromptu surgery on my manhood with her garden shears.

MARCUS:  And that would change what now?

KARL:  Hey! You’re supposed to be a friend.

MARCUS:  Call it tough love.

KARL:  Oh I see.

MARCUS:  More like tough, manly, strictly platonic tolerance. How the hell did you two manage to get married in the first place?

KARL (putting on a eerie voice):  Tongue of flea, eye of worm, finger of fish and Mars in confluctin with Jupiter -

MARCUS:  You don't actually know do you?

KARL:  No. (sighs) We did like each in the beginning. But now she’s the big aspirational lifestyle guru, earning the mega spondoolick, she says I hold her back.

MARCUS looks at KARL, who’s wearing a stained tee-shirt, nylon trousers and non-brand trainers.

MARCUS:  That’s a bit harsh.

KARL:  I think so.   It hasn’t been the same since she decorated Richard and Judy’s bathroom live on TV. Now the whole country sees her more often than I do.  Anyway, about tonight, you sure I can’t tag along?

MARCUS:  No. Its just me and Helen tonight, mate. So get out of my shop - I’m closing up.