Nerd Do Well (40 page)

The second time we met, John took me to see
Terminator Salvation
at the Directors’ Guild and then for dinner at the Kate Mantilini Restaurant on Wilshire Boulevard, the location of Robert De Niro and Al Pacino’s famous face-to-face in Michael Mann’s
Heat
. There he told me about his plans to direct a film called
Burke and Hare
in the UK. He said the story revolved around two notorious 1820s Edinburgh killers who, between them, bumped off seventeen people and sold their cadavers to medical science.

Less than a year later we began shooting in London with myself and Andy Serkis as the titular ‘heroes’ in a film that boasted, among its players, three of the original cast members of
American Werewolf in London
: David Schofield, John Woodvine and Jenny Agutter. Even more interestingly (for me),
Burke and Hare
also contained four members of the cast of
Spaced
: Jessica Hynes, Michael Smiley, Bill Bailey and me. And with that pleasing flourish of circularities, I think it’s time to bring proceedings to a close.

Wait a minute! I hear you cry. What about [insert thing you wanted to know about here]?

Well, I probably have enough anecdotes about my professional life to fill a whole other book, but to be honest I’m not sure how interesting that would be for any of us. Unless you are blithely indiscreet or just mercenary, you have to be a little bit more guarded and careful when talking about other people in the public eye. I’m not harbouring any devastating secrets or vendettas, but the truth would have to be modified to protect others and no amount of Meredith Catsanus or Eggy Helen-style pseudonyms would fully insulate against clever people working things out or, perhaps worse, misconceiving. My professional life has been eventful and emotional and I have met a wide variety of people. It hasn’t all been plain sailing; there have been struggles and conflicts and not everyone I have met has been a delight, but I’m just not that interested in dishing the dirt, and besides, I don’t really have that much dirt to dish. The journey has been fun and exciting, but there are few things less beguiling than ‘hilarious’ celeb stories, which culminate in the crushing sensation that you really had to be there and a vague feeling of resentment that you weren’t. And anyway, as Johnny Morris used to say at the end of
Tales of the Riverbank
, that’s another story.

In the end, this memoir has turned out to be far more personal than I ever intended. My first inclination when faced with the task of writing a book about myself was to keep it strictly professional, for fear of constantly defaulting into tales of dogs and hosiery, but the truth is, the most interesting stuff to write about, and hopefully to read, took place as a prelude to the whole showbiz malarkey. Ultimately, we are all products of the experiences we have and the decisions we make as children, and it remains a peculiar detail of the human condition that something as precious as a future is entrusted to us when we possess so little foresight. Perhaps that’s what makes hindsight so intriguing. When you’re young the future is a blank canvas, but looking back you are always able to see the big picture.

The jet lifted off from the roof of Hendon Garden Hospital, a sleek black exercise in vertical grace. Nobody noticed as the silent bird drifted into the sky, apart from a tramp but his description of events would have seemed dubious on account of him being drunk and mental.

Simon Pegg sat in the cockpit next to Canterbury, his friend and faithful robotic butler. Very little had passed between them since they delivered Murielle Burdot, aka the Scarlet Panther, to the A&E department with a gunshot wound to her back.

The doctors had whisked her away to the
ICU
and an hour or so later reported her condition to be stable. Pegg felt a honey warmth spread through his body at the news and fought back his tears of joy, not wanting to look like a whoopsie in front of the cops who had been called as a matter of course.

Pegg had participated in a short interview, which the rozzers kept brief because they fancied him so much. Besides, this wasn’t the first time Pegg had rocked up to an
NHS
hospital carrying a woman with a bullet in her back and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Pegg looked over at his treasured friend, watching him for a moment as the android cycled through various flight procedures with obvious efficiency. A smile stretched across Pegg’s face and he found himself filled with a wave of devotional love. Was it possible to love a robot? Pegg mused to himself as he considered his friend. There had been that incident with the BJ5000 at the Birmingham
NEC
in 2005, but that was hardly love, more like gratitude.

‘Is everything all right, sir?’ chirped Canterbury, breaking Pegg from his reverie.

‘Yes,’ said Pegg, ‘I was just thinking how much it sucks.’

‘What sucks, sir?’ enquired Canterbury.

‘Murielle’s going to be in hospital for at least six weeks,’ Pegg sighed. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘You could always write your book, sir,’ suggested the intuitive automaton, a hint of amusement in his smooth synthetic tones.

‘Is that an attempt at humour?’ asked Pegg, fighting to conceal his smile.

‘Not at all, sir,’ replied Canterbury. ‘I was just thinking, with the benefit of a moment’s solace, you might finally find the motivation to put finger to iPad.’

‘What shall I write about, though?’ asked Pegg honestly, reminding his mechanical companion of the young man who put him together from a shop-bought robo-kit so many years before, ingeniously adding a number of specialised modifications without invalidating the warranty. In fact, with the exception of the flashing earring and the spray-on tits, Pegg’s additions to Canterbury’s hardware and programming had created a unique individual, whose experience and ability to learn at a geometric rate had made him all but human.

Canterbury looked at his master for a moment and felt a fizz of data sparkle across his silicon synapses. If he didn’t know better, he would have concluded it to be love, little knowing how much it was reciprocated.

‘Write what you know, sir,’ said Canterbury. ‘Write what you know.’

Pegg laughed, an explosive chuckle that surprised even him.

‘Perhaps Ben from Century wasn’t as mad as we thought,’ mused Pegg. ‘I suppose, in the end, he helped me more than he knew. It’s funny, but I wish he was here so I could thank him.’

‘Perhaps you should have thanked him when you pulled the knife out of his brain,’ suggested Canterbury helpfully.

‘It slipped my mind,’ admitted the handsome adventurer and sex expert.

‘Much like that blade slipped his,’ quipped Canterbury.

Pegg roared with laughter for six minutes. When the laughter subsided, Pegg and Canterbury looked at each other for a moment, Canterbury’s ocular illuminations pulsing in the moisture across the surface of Pegg’s crystal-clear eyes.

‘I’m sorry I doubted you,’ Pegg said suddenly.

Canterbury said nothing for a few seconds, his fixed face unreadable. Then he spoke.

‘I forgive you, sir.’

Pegg smiled, a look of relief melting through his expression of concern.

‘When we get back, I’m going to give you a full overhaul,’ Pegg enthused. ‘I’m going to paint over those tits, and get rid of that earring, I don’t care what those wankers at Comet say, they can go fuck themselves.’

‘I’d appreciate a lick of fresh paint, sir, but you can leave the earring. I’ve grown to like it.’

‘Whatever you say,’ said Pegg, grinning broadly at his best friend.

They sat in comfortable silence for a minute or two.

‘I was thinking . . .’ Pegg began hopefully. ‘When Murielle is fully recovered, I might ask her to come and stay with us for a while.’

Canterbury couldn’t be sure but it seemed as though Pegg was almost asking his permission.

‘That sounds like a capital idea, sir,’ said Canterbury, as if Pegg hadn’t been thinking about it since he discovered Murielle was still alive. ‘Shall I make up the guest bedroom in the east wing?’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Pegg.

Canterbury wasn’t looking at his master but he could hear the slight smile on his face.

‘Perhaps you could start thinking about some recipes,’ suggested Pegg. ‘I’d like to put on a nice dinner for her on her first night at the manor.’

‘How about quail tagine with prunes and almonds?’ Canterbury offered.

‘Perfect,’ said Pegg.

Pegg stretched and looked out of the viewscreen into the darkness of the night. The future seemed full of potential, full of warmth and even fun, not just the grim promise of danger that usually haunted the time before him.

‘Where shall we go now?’ Pegg asked absent-mindedly.

‘Zihuatanejo,’ said Canterbury.

‘Zihuatanejo?’ replied Pegg.

‘Mexico,’ continued Canterbury. ‘Little place right on the Pacific. You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific?’

‘You keep asking me that,’ said Pegg, a note of frustration in his voice.

‘Might I suggest we just go home, sir?’ Canterbury said happily. ‘I think you earned yourself a rest.’

And with that, the sleek black jet cut into the velvet blackness and slid away through the night, towards Pegg’s top-secret hideout in Gloucester, between Brockworth and Upton St Leonards, near the
ICI
factory but with nice views of the Cotswolds and a huge swimming pool.

I wrote this shortly after playing through
Star Wars: The Force Unleashed
on the PS3. It features the characters of Rahm Kota, Kazdan Paratus and Shaak Ti, the last remaining Jedi Knights after the execution of Order 66. Shaak Ti is glimpsed in
Revenge of the Sith
; the other two exist within the expanded universe of the game which charts the rise of the rebellion between Episodes
III
and IV. The other characters should be familiar to anyone who has watched the original
Star Wars
saga more than three times. If that criteria fits you, read on; if not, I’d give it a swerve.

The Plan

Massassi Temple, Yavin 4. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa are seated around a large stone table discussing the aftermath of Order 66 with the last remaining Jedi: Shaak Ti, Kazdan Paratus, Rahm Kota, Obi-Wan Kenobi and a holo-transmission of Yoda. Captain Madine enters looking worried.

MADINE

Our spies bring disturbing news from the Imperial Sector. Anakin Skywalker is alive.

KOTA

What?

MON
MOTHMA

How can this be?

KENOBI

But I stood on the lava banks of Mustafar and watched him die.

SHAAK
TI

I still don’t understand why you didn’t help him. He was your padawan.

OBI-WAN
KENOBI
shrugs
.

YODA

Master Kenobi?

KENOBI

I was tired.

YODA

Grave news, this is.

KENOBI

I wouldn’t worry. He was in a terrible state when I left him. Both his legs were off and he was on fire.

KOTA

That’s another thing. Why did you just leave him there?

KENOBI

I dunno.

PARATUS

If what Obi-Wan says is true, can Skywalker really be much of a threat?

MADINE

The Emperor has rebuilt him. Apparently he’s more machine now than man.

KENOBI

Creepy.

MADINE

What is more, intelligence reports suggest that he has been reborn as the Sith Lord, Darth Vader.

KENOBI

Cool name.

YODA

Feared this, I did. A terrible ally the dark side has found

MON
MOTHMA

What about the babies? Surely he will seek them out.

YODA

Hidden, they must be.

KOTA

Hidden and separated.

KENOBI

Awwww.

YODA

Right, General Kota is. Strong is their bond, easy to sense.

ORGANA

I will take Leia. My wife and I have long yearned for a daughter. We will raise her as our own. Concealed by the bright light of royalty.

KENOBI

Nice.

MON
MOTHMA

What about the boy?

PARATUS

He needs to be hidden as far away as possible.

KENOBI

How about Tatooine? I have a friend there who has always said, if there’s a bright centre to the universe, Tatooine is the planet that it’s farthest from.

MON
MOTHMA

Who is this friend?

KENOBI

His name is Owen Lars.

SHAAK
TI

Can he be trusted?

KENOBI

Oh yes.

PARATUS

How did you make his acquaintance?

KENOBI

He’s Darth Vader’s stepbrother.

EVERYONE

What?

KENOBI

It’ll be fine, seriously. He won’t think to look there.

ORGANA

Are you sure?

KENOBI

Positive.

KOTA

Master Yoda?

YODA

Out of ideas, I am.

PARATUS

Very well. Leia Organa and Luke Lars –

KENOBI

Skywalker.

EVERYONE

WHAT?!

KENOBI

He should be called Luke Skywalker. Come on, it sounds cooler.

MON
MOTHMA

What is it with you and names?

KENOBI

I think it’s important. Why do you think I changed my name to Obi-Wan? Nobody’s going to be frightened of a Jedi called Benjamin.

YODA