Vince was fed up standing in line to a club he knew he was never going to get into, and he was lonely and bored. He secretly wished Howard was here, even though this wasn't his sort of place and he would more than likely do something so embarrassing Vince would never be able to show his face in this place again. He'd tried asking Bollo to get him on the guest list, but he wanted more than that, he wanted to be at the top of the guest list every night, no need to queue any longer. He would roll up in his Rolls Royce and step out onto a red carpet and walk straight in the door.

He wanted a different life, where he wasn't a zoo keeper, he wanted to be a rock star and at that moment as he stood in the pouring rain in the middle of London, he would do anything for it to happen, he would change his name, he would even cut his hair to get there. He didn't care that he'd leave Howard behind; he wanted to sing about sex, drugs and rock and roll. He wanted to live on the hill in Hollywood somewhere between the two "O"'s. He was blind to the drug dealers, playboy bunnies, he didn't care, just wanted to be a rock star. He wanted a huge wardrobe all bought from Topshop, and a credit card with no limit, living the jet set life. He wanted his name in lights, could see it above the club he stood outside now making his comeback in his own town in a club he had once been turned away from because he wasn't important enough to be on the guest list. He watched two young blonde girls being waved into the club without a second glance and he sighed. Sure, it would be wonderful to be a rock star, and he daydreamed about it all the way home, but when he reached home and found Howard sat in front of the TV on his own, watching the late night news he knew that there was more to being a rock star.

"Alright little man." Howard asked as Vince sat down heavily on the couch.

"Yeah." Vince replied, smiling slightly before looking at Howard, "Just fine."