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sissyLet’s Stick Together
Fandom: Mighty Boosh
Characters: Bryan Ferry, Vince Noir
There comes a day when Vince is as tall as Bryan’s elbow (although, to be truthful, a good portion of height is all hair) and Bryan knows it’s time for Vince to leave the wild, and the animals, and the house made of bus tickets. Bryan has spent years watching Vince grow with his other children, climb trees and run around and howl at the top of his lungs, he’s kept the boy busy with music, taught him to read out of fashion magazines, given the boy paint and let him cover himself in it, let him run through the forest shrieking like a bird.
The forest has done Vince good, has left him with bright, curious eyes and a mind that never stops dreaming and a smile like the stars that stretch for miles over the trees. It assuages the worries he secretly has that he made the wrong choice keeping the small bundle he’d found, not taking little Vince to the authorities. But there comes a time when all children must leave their nests, and Bryan knows that India is no place for a boy like Vince, who learned to accessorize before he could walk and only repeated glam rock lines for nearly year before he started speaking for himself.
“You’ll love London, Vince.” Bryan tries to assure the boy. Vince is excited, there’s no doubt – but he’s scared, clinging to Bryan’s trousers ,and he’s only just stopped crying from when he realized that the forest wouldn’t be coming with him to England, that Jahooli would be a world away.
“You’ll love it, and London will love you. You’ll be a prince, huh? Prince Vince?”
It doesn’t have the same ring as King of the Jungle, which Vince had yelled so often that some of the animals had thought it was his real name. Vince must be thinking the same thing, because his lower lip wobbles precariously and Bryan scrambles for something. “Or- what will they call you? Vince Noir…Rock and Roll Star?”
Vince sniffs and repeats softly. “Vince Noir: Rock and Roll Star.”
“That’s right, little one.”
Shortly after, Vince is ushered onto the plane and Bryan returns to the wild alone, to the home of bus tickets that he’d built for a small boy with bright blue eyes and an off-key singing voice and enough natural enthusiasm to fuel a jet, and wonders when he’d turned from pop star to old-softie.
Fandom: Mighty Boosh
Characters: Bryan Ferry, Vince Noir
There comes a day when Vince is as tall as Bryan’s elbow (although, to be truthful, a good portion of height is all hair) and Bryan knows it’s time for Vince to leave the wild, and the animals, and the house made of bus tickets. Bryan has spent years watching Vince grow with his other children, climb trees and run around and howl at the top of his lungs, he’s kept the boy busy with music, taught him to read out of fashion magazines, given the boy paint and let him cover himself in it, let him run through the forest shrieking like a bird.
The forest has done Vince good, has left him with bright, curious eyes and a mind that never stops dreaming and a smile like the stars that stretch for miles over the trees. It assuages the worries he secretly has that he made the wrong choice keeping the small bundle he’d found, not taking little Vince to the authorities. But there comes a time when all children must leave their nests, and Bryan knows that India is no place for a boy like Vince, who learned to accessorize before he could walk and only repeated glam rock lines for nearly year before he started speaking for himself.
“You’ll love London, Vince.” Bryan tries to assure the boy. Vince is excited, there’s no doubt – but he’s scared, clinging to Bryan’s trousers ,and he’s only just stopped crying from when he realized that the forest wouldn’t be coming with him to England, that Jahooli would be a world away.
“You’ll love it, and London will love you. You’ll be a prince, huh? Prince Vince?”
It doesn’t have the same ring as King of the Jungle, which Vince had yelled so often that some of the animals had thought it was his real name. Vince must be thinking the same thing, because his lower lip wobbles precariously and Bryan scrambles for something. “Or- what will they call you? Vince Noir…Rock and Roll Star?”
Vince sniffs and repeats softly. “Vince Noir: Rock and Roll Star.”
“That’s right, little one.”
Shortly after, Vince is ushered onto the plane and Bryan returns to the wild alone, to the home of bus tickets that he’d built for a small boy with bright blue eyes and an off-key singing voice and enough natural enthusiasm to fuel a jet, and wonders when he’d turned from pop star to old-softie.