A Wee Fiction: Rock Vocalist

ye cannae jist walk up tae some guy an go You're a handsome big bastard, kin ye? Naw, ye cannae. Ye cannae come oot an state the truth like that. An ae is, ae's handsome, ah'm bein objective. But whit ah cannae go, right, is the way they sit in that corner wi their loud conversations an their loud laughter, thinkin they're the bees knees. So whit if they've got an album oot? Eh? So whit? Ah mean, has anybody heard it? Ah've no. An that vibe they've got goin  - We're big on the Continent. Whit's that supposed tae mean? Where's the Continent? Eh? Right, it's Europe, but be specific. Does it mean they've selt a lot ae records in Belgium, is that it? Aye, we're a hit in Czechoslovakia, so whit? Fuckin posers. An as far as bein handsome goes, whit's that aw aboot? So whit? Form over content, man, it's the pits. Aye, ah ken they write their ain material - so dae ah. 12 songs, a complete set, an album's worth. It wis the demo that pit the scuppers oan us, though - no ma fault. We pit the bass, drums an guitar doon oan the Monday, then Baz fucked off. He kent how tae work the 4-track. Ae turned up late the next day, wi a hangover. Ah did it in yin take - ah hud tae. The recordin wis aw wonky, ken, ma vocals. One minute it wis growlin, the next it wis screechin. Baz said it sounded like Barry White humpin Minnie Mouse, an neither ae thum wis enjoyin it. Ma songs, tae. Well, the words, anyway. It wisnae long after that ae phoned me. That's the band split up, mate, ae says. That wis it. They got back thegither a week later, the three ae thum, withoot me. Fair enough. It's what we rock vocalists call Goin Solo. Ah'm open tae offers. Nae time wasters, though. Nae posers. Pit the word oot if ye want. Tell them ah'm guid, ah write ma ain stuff, ah've got an album's worth sittin. Good lookin, tae, so they tell me. No that ah shout aboot it, though, no like some ah could mention.