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Jimmy Barnes leaves Red Room after party with two stunning blonds! The rock lothario is well known for his drunken antics, but you gotta love him!
Winter Soldier’ sales drop after only two weeks in the charts – is it finally over for rock sensation Jimmy Barnes?
Bucky was kinda drunk. He always drank too much at these events, the one’s that his management set up and made sure that there was just enough booze for him to get appropriately shitfaced and do something that would put him on the cover of a few gossip mags for a week or so. Normally they arranged them to ‘spontaneously’ happen a week or so after the release of a competitor’s new album. There were worse companies to work for, Bucky figured – by Red Room had him by the balls and weren’t letting go. They’d found him when he was freezing his ass off, busking in the streets and had worked on making him one of the biggest musicians of his time. Their methods weren’t the best – his contract would make a law student cry it was so fucking convoluted, with subsections and clauses and a million other things that stopped Bucky from doing anything they didn’t want him to do.
He dated who they told him, he sang where they told him. He wrote what they made him and he acted how they wanted. If he didn’t he’d find himself under a breach of contract – and the Red Room’s lawyers had lawyers.
Tonight the party was for… shit, he was sure someone told him. Some band just knocked him out of the top 100 or something, and Red Room needed him to act out, get him back in the news. The place gave the illusion of privacy but although he was drunk, he wasn’t fucking stupid. The moment that he did anything, he’d be blinded by the flash of cameras. He’d been handed another drink, and he could feel the eyes of Peirce watching him from across the room. He glanced up and tipped the glass in a mocking salute before downing it in one.
He played the part better than anyone else. He was the best – which was why they still let him make music. Other bands had come and gone, but Bucky had kept up the act – kept partying and drinking and fucking every pussy they put in front of him and he was so close to freedom he could taste it over the sharp bite of the drink in his hand. His contract was up in a matter of months – 10 years of being a fucking puppet would soon be over. So far the Red Room had managed to drag his name through every sordid gossip rag, let people call him talentless and washed up, destroying the name they spent so long building up. If they couldn’t have him, they were sure as hell going to make sure that no-one else wanted him.
Another drink was pushed into his hand. Shit, if they kept that up he’d be leaving the party in an ambulance – he was already wasted, swaying on his feet and slow to react.
“Oh, Jimmy!” A tiny blond with the fakest looking tits he’d ever seen said, pressing against him. She’d been in a movie – some teen comedy that had bombed in theatres, her hair cut short – a pixie-cut, he thought, he was pretty sure that was what it was called – and her skirt was even shorter. Jesus, he was so fucking done. “Jimmy, you wanna get out of here?” She breathed, leaning forward and pushing her tits against him. She had a hand running over the front of his jeans and if she was expecting some kind of reaction from him she was about to be really fucking disappointed – he’d drunk too much, she wasn’t his type, he wasn’t in the mood for another kiss and tell where the girl would cry on TV and tell the host that he’d promised her the world and broke her heart.
The biggest dick in the industry, they said. Such a shame half of it was his personality, people smirked – not even behind his back any longer. Washed up and over – no offers from new management teams even though it was common knowledge that his contract was running out with Red Room.
“Yeah, okay darlin’,” He drawled, patting her ass. “Go get your coat.”
She didn’t come back, and Bucky wanted to leave. He’d drunk all the drinks that Peirce had sent over to him, had already puked his guts up in the toilets and ignored the line for the harder stuff, and now he wanted to go home. Order a pizza, take an aspirin and go the fuck to sleep.
He was stumbling towards the door when he saw her blond hair, and squeezed her ass as he walked past. “Night Darlin’,” He slurred, realising too late that the tiny blond wasn’t the same tiny blond until they turned around.
Until he turned around.
Steve Rogers.
Bucky had a hangover. He woke up on his couch, which wasn’t exactly where he’d planned on spending the night, and his legs hurt from sleeping in his skinny jeans. On the table beside him was a bottle of Jack Daniels, half full. Shit. Someone was in the apartment, and only two people had a key. The first was Peirce, who liked to drop by every now and then to remind Bucky that everything he was had been given to him by Red Room, and Natasha, who liked to drop by every now and then to let him know that he was being a fucking idiot.
She’d been a Red Room star too – but had managed to get her ass out of her contract with some seriously good legal wriggling and a lot of help. Bucky hadn’t been so lucky.
He really, really hoped that it was Natasha. He doubted he’d be able to deal with Pierce, especially since his head was throbbing like a fucking drum beat.
He wanted to call out, but the idea of moving hurt. Hell, breathing hurt. He couldn’t remember getting home. He couldn’t remember half the fucking party. “James.” A female voice said, and he sagged deeper into the cushions. Natasha, not Peirce, stepped into his eye line. “Sit up.”
He wanted to say no, but all that happened was he opened his mouth… and puked.
“Jesus Christ.” She said, stepping out of the way so that he didn’t get vomit on her shoes. She didn’t rush to help him, or try to hold his lank hair out of his face, just stood and watched as he heaved. She’d seen him like that too many times for it to even faze her.
It hurt, because the only thing he had in his system was booze – he could hardly remember the last time he’d eaten, but it was probably some kind of shitty hors d'oeuvres. He was underweight and killing his liver and wasn’t quite sure if he even knew how to function without Peirce telling him what to do, when to do it and how to act.
“Get in the shower.” Natasha said, sounding completely unaffected by Bucky’s attempt to puke up his internal oragans. “I’ll get this,” She waved a hand over the mess he was laying in, “Cleaned up.”
He spent too long in the shower, sitting on the floor and shaking. He’d gotten used to forgetting chunks of time with Red Room. They made sure he kept drinking, kept acting up – got their asset in the gossip rags falling in and out of clubs and beds and wherever they wanted him. He knew, he knew, that he needed to stop drinking. Should have stopped years ago, when he could have maybe tried to save something of his reputation – but it was too late now. They’d turned him into a fucking parody, a laughing stock – a washed up rocker with no talent and no future.
When he finally pulled himself out of the shower and into clothes that didn’t make him look like some glamrock throwback, he remembered that he’d left Natasha in the livingroom to clean up puke. “Shit.” He groaned, padding down the stairs in his bare feet, well worn jeans low on his hips, a grey hoodie covering his tattoo.
The livingroom looked spotless. He was fairly sure that Natasha was a fucking ninja. “I’m sorry.” He said, and his voice was too loud for his head, but he forced himself to look at her. “I would have got it.”
She shrugged, as though she’d not just spent an hour cleaning up his mess. “You need to eat something.” She said, rather than call him out for drinking too much. “I brought bagels.”
Natasha Romanov had been an up and coming artist when Bucky had first met her. Red Room had snapped her up, and had started moulding her just like they had done with Bucky. She featured in a few of his tracks on his 3rd album before they planned to launch her as the next big thing.
But Bucky had been with Red Room for 4 years by that point, disillusioned and well aware that they would drag her down – mix her up in shit she couldn’t get out of – and he told her to get out. He’d helped her, introduced her to the right people, tried to hide what he was doing from Peirce and his cronies. In the end, he’d been found out – Natasha got out of her contract but Bucky had been forced to sign another 5 year stint in her place. He didn’t regret it – She’d taken the world by storm and was currently sitting at the top of the charts with her latest album, “The Black Widow”. She was the only artist that didn’t talk shit about him in interviews. She defended him where others just laughed, a washed up relic.
“What do you remember?” She asked him, as he picked at the food she’d brought him. It was good, but he’d spent too long not eating right, and it sat heavy in his stomach.
“Uh, some blond.” He said. “Fake tits, short hair.”
“Hmm.” Natasha said, looking up from her phone. “She’s posted on twitter she blew you in the bathroom.”
“I don’t think…” He said, trying to remember. “I don’t think that happened.”
“I doubt you could have got it up, after the amount you drank.” She said, without looking up. “You don’t normally come home and drink, James.” She pointed out, looking at him with hard eyes. “You normally order junk food and go to bed. What changed?”
He couldn’t remember. He remembered the drink and the blond. Peirce smiling coldly across the room as Bucky downed yet another drink, playing the part he’d been made for. He’d lost the blond, he recalled. He’d been planning on leaving…
“Shit.” He said, dropping his head to the table and the movement made his stomach roll unpleasantly. “Shit, shit shit.” He whined.
“Ah,” Natasha said, sounding faintly amused. “I see you remember.”
He’d goosed Steve Rogers.
On the rocks! Jimmy Barnes seen falling out of night club alone. The fading star, who was papped throwing up in the alley outside of nightclub ‘Hydra’ seems to be looking worse for wear – is this the end for the bad boy of rock?
When Bucky was nothing more than a glorified busker, living hand to mouth, before Red Room and Peirce and his life was a fucking non-stop rollercoaster he couldn’t get out of, he’d met Steve Rogers.
Steve, who could do things to a piano that made people cry, whose voice was like deep, warm honey – but so tender that when he’d sing it was like a fucking angel weeping on your shoulder. Steve who looked like a stiff breeze would knock him on his ass but who was tough as nails. Steve who’d begged Bucky not to go to Red Room, who’d helped him work through some tough songs – who’d told him that his best stuff was the acoustic jams and not the electric riffs that he’d made his name with. Steve Rogers, who Bucky Barnes was sure was 100% heterosexual and Steve Rogers who Bucky Barnes was madly in love with.
But Jimmy Barnes, the Rock Legend, was not allowed to love skinny Steve Rogers. There was a ‘morality’ clause in his contract that very clearly stated that ‘deviance’ of any kind would result in a breach of contract. Jimmy Barnes was a ladies man and that was that.
The fact that Bucky Barnes was as much into guys as he was into girls didn’t matter. The Red Room had his balls in a vice and they weren’t going to let go.
Steve had called him out, told him he was selling himself for a record deal – they’d argued, yelled and finally fallen into a resentful silence that Bucky hadn’t known how to break.
“I got a text this morning from a concerned mutual friend who said you were shit faced at a party and grabbed his ass.” She said, leaning back in the chair and sounding about as smug as ever. “And then you went back to the bar, drank your way through the top shelf and went home.”
“Did anyone see?”
“If they did it’s not on the social media.” She shrugged, “And you know Steve won’t say anything. He’s not the type.”
Steve hadn’t made it very far in the industry, which was a fucking crime, because he had more talent in his little finger than most people had in their whole bodies, but he floated around – playing in the background or writing other peoples stuff. Bucky had wanted Steve to collaborate on a few things, but Peirce had shot that idea down – Bucky didn’t write his own stuff. He sang what he was told, and he played what was put in front of him.
“Three months.” He said, putting his head back on the table and trying to forget that he’d goosed Steve. Shit, the worst thing was, the guy was so fucking good he’d totally forgive Bucky for being inappropriate. He’d shrug it off, or be so fucking sincere and understanding that Bucky would feel even worse. “I only got three more months and I’m free.”
Jimmy Barnes rushed to hospital after suspected overdose
Jimmy Barnes: Exclusive pictures of washed up star
The Red Room confirmed today that they would not be offering a renewal of contract to dead-beat rocker Jimmy Barnes when his current contract is over. The record label announced that his recent behaviour was the reason for the decision and that they couldn’t keep a dead weight on the books for ‘nostalgia’ alone. Harsh!
Bucky sat in his new house and looked around. The old place had been owned by Red Room, and he’d been turfed out of that when his contract had ended. His new place was smaller – much smaller – but it was his. A simple two bedroom in a walled community where you needed to check in with a security guard if you wanted inside, it was a million miles away from the house on the hill that he’d been kept. There was no studio, or pool, but there was a nice garden out back and he’d turned the guest room into a little space where he could sit and play his guitars.
It seemed unreal that a few months ago he’d been checked into hospital with what the Red Room had called a ‘suspected drug overdose’ but what was actually kidney stones. The media had loved that, showing as many images as they could of his gaunt, drawn face, ignoring the facts in favour of the Red Room and their well-executed assassination of his character.
He figured being a Jimmy Barnes fan would be pretty fucking embarrassing at that point – his Facebook, twitter and Instagram were all removed (they hadn’t been his anyway, all of them managed by Red Room goons) when he’d been ‘dropped’ by the label.
But…
Bucky was doing okay. Sure, he had a hard time adjusting at first, but he thought he was doing okay. He went to meetings, a local AA chapter run by a real nice guy called Sam Wilson who didn’t ask him for his autograph, but helped him through the worst of the lows. Bucky hadn’t really thought he was an alcoholic, but considering he’d spent the last 10 years of his life steeped in booze, he figured cutting it out would be the best place to start.
It was hard, a helluva lot harder than he’d expected, but he was managing.
He was sitting in the re-furbished guestroom when he heard Natasha let herself in. He’d been out of Red Room for 6 months, sober for all of them, and had taken to writing down the fragments of… something… that got stuck in his head onto paper. He’d been working out a fairly complicated bridge, he just couldn’t get the hook to take – when she pushed open the door.
“Hey you.” She said, looking every bit the chart toper she was, in her skinny jeans and oversized maroon sweater. Bucky didn’t look half so good – he’d thrown his hair back into a messy bun, bare feet and a pair of jeans that had once been black but were now just a soft charcoal, and a t-shirt that had seen better days – a faded image of his first album, the transfer peeling and patchy.
“Hey me.” He shot back, looking up just to wink at her, before looking back down at his notes. He’d been good at this stuff, once, back when he wrote everything himself and had big dreams about sticking it to the man. He knew he could get it back, if he just dug deep enough.
“You look good.” She said, voice all warmth. “Aside from the whole… 90’s grunge thing.”
“You don’t even remember grunge.” He grinned, not looking up. “You’re like, 5 years old.”
“You know, Steve here was just using the exact same insult.” She replied, deadpan. “You old guys really need to shake it up a little.”
Bucky looked up, really looked up, not just a quick glance – and sure enough, Steve Rogers was standing behind Natasha, looking tiny and blond and completely fucking amazing. “She invited me.” He said, in that voice which was eight sizes too big for his body.
“Uh,” Bucky managed, before blinking. “Okay?”
“You helped me once.” She said, shrugging. “And I think you’re floundering now.” She said, looking completely unrepentant for inviting the guy she knew Bucky had harboured a crush on for the better part of 15 years. Shit, had Steve looked at his music collection? Did you notice that Bucky owned everything he’d ever collaborated, written or played on? “You’ve been going over the same four chords for months. You need some new eyes,” She nodded her head at Steve. “And everyone knows Steve’s got good eyes.”
“He can’t see for shit, that’s why he’s wearing those stupid fucking glasses.” Bucky pointed out, and was rewarded with a deep laugh from Steve.
“Yeah, well, at least I’m not the one wearing a picture of my own face across my chest.” The smaller man shot back, and for a second, Bucky forgot that it was the first time they’d actually spoken since they’d fallen out over Bucky signing to Red Room. “Hey Buck.” He said, as the silence carried on for a touch too long.
No one called him Bucky. The Red Room called him Jimmy, and Natasha called him James and the only person who ever called him Bucky was Steve.
“Hey Stevie.” He grinned, and didn’t blush when Natasha snorted at the two of them.
Jimmy Barnes was seen leaving the Ivy restaurant last night with Grammy winning Natasha Romanov (buy her new single on itunes) looking like a new man. The chart sensation wore a figure hugging red dress while former rocker was unusually subdued. Onlookers said that the meal didn’t look romantic in nature, but we’ve gotta warn our favourite starlet – he’s got a long line of ex-girlfriends who can tell her to steer clear!
“No, listen to what I’m saying,” Steve argued. He was sitting at the keyboard, long fingers placed over the white keys, ready to play. “It’s gotta go ‘da da dun da do’,” He repeated and played it back, fingers playing with ease. “You can add the fancy shit in later,” He added, rolling his eyes, “Along with your hair whipping.”
“Fuck you,” Bucky grinned, playing the chords back. “My hair whipping is almost as awesome as my ass.”
Steve just snorted a laugh back.
It’s the Vine of the year – Former bad boy Jimmy Barnes serenades birthday girl Romanov – Acappella style! Is it wrong that we’re swooning?! #hestillhasit
Reformed rocker ‘Bucky’ Barnes sends a ‘thank you’ tweet to all of his fans who stood by him through everything, promises something new soon!
Bucky Barnes papped on the beach with mystery blond guy ‘friend’ – twitter speculation abounds - #justgoodfriends?
Bucky looked at the headline and frowned. He’d been working his ass off on the new stuff with Steve for weeks, and they’d decided to take a break – a couple of days by the beach. The whole thing had been completely innocent, but even he had to admit, the grainy picture did kinda look a bit… intimate. Bucky had his arm thrown around Steve’s shoulders and they were leaning close – probably just talking – but…
If Steve saw it – and the media speculation around it, things were going to get super awkward. He should have known to keep his head down and just keep ploughing through the tracks that they’d been working on. It had been just like old times, with Steve keeping Bucky focused and calling him out on his cheap hooks – all of the bad habits that he’d picked up at Red Room Steve was systematically destroying. He’d never sounded so good – keeping everything stripped back gave everything a real, brutally honest feel. For the first time in forever he felt like he was baring his soul, Steve helping to peel back all the layers to the person Bucky thought he’d left behind.
The tracks they were laying down were raw, each one exposing a part of his life. ‘Metal Arm’ which was still hard for him to get the whole way through, was a completely honest reveal of his struggle through the years, how he had to give up part of him to fit with what others wanted of him. Steve’s playing through the verse was harsh and jarring, his own anger at what Bucky had become almost a physical thing.
Things between them had never been so good – their old argument forgotten – but Bucky looked at the Twitter feed and the comments and felt his heart sink. Being so close to Steve had made his old feelings come back stronger – he’d never gotten over that crush and sitting in a small room every day with Steve had brought it back full force.
Steve, of course, seemed completely the same, focusing on the music. He was just as open and friendly as he had been before. Not noticing when Bucky would try to flirt with him. Just like old times.
Bucky Barnes posts a 60 second YouTube vid for his fans – broken down acoustic never sounded so good! We’re dying for more!
“You’ve been weird.” Steve pointed out, leaning back on the couch with the plate balanced on his bony knees. Bucky had been trying to cook, nothing too fancy, but now that he was dry he found that everything tasted... better. He’d made some chicken breasts and a peppercorn sauce with mash sweet potatoes and was pretty pleased with how it had turned out. Steve had been working on a song of his own, which he’d provisionally titled ‘Remember When’ while Bucky had cooked, sitting in the kitchen and humming his way through the parts he’d done already.
Bucky rolled his eyes. “No I’ve not.”
“Yeah, you have.” Steve said, mopping up the last of his sauce with the mash. “Have you been reading YouTube comments?” He asked. “Those always depress the fuck outta me.”
“Naw,” Bucky grinned, taking a swing of his soda. “I’m alright.”
“Is it the whole gay thing?” Steve asked, before taking another mouthful of food, and if he noticed Bucky flounder for a few seconds he didn’t mention it. “Cause I’m not sure what I can do about that.”
“What gay thing?” Bucky managed, sounding only slight strangled. “There’s no gay thing.” His mind was suddenly full of the comments he’d seen online, they were gaining traction because Bucky hadn’t been seen dating anyone since his split from Red Room, hadn’t been out partying at all, and people were always desperate for gossip. And he’d been seen out with Steve more than once, grabbing dinner after a long day of working on the tracks, or jogging in the afternoon to get out of a funk if they were knocking heads on a particular part for too long.
“I mean, I’ve been pretty good about it.” Steve carried on, chewing. “But you can’t blame a guy for looking sometimes.”
Bucky felt his shoulders droop and looked down at his plate. He had been hungry, but now he just felt a little sick. “I didn’t think it would bother you.” He said, not looking up and using his fork to push his chicken around the plate. He really wasn’t sure what he was expecting – he just always thought that Steve was like, this super liberal guy who’d just take Bucky’s sexuality in his stride.
“Well, it’s not a problem unless you make it a problem.” Steve said, and Bucky nodded glumly.
“I’m not going to make it a problem.” He said, feeling like shit. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He added, honestly, because that was the last thing he wanted. He’d rather muddle through his crush than alienate Steve – he couldn’t remember having someone so invested in his ideas, his life, before. He didn’t have friends at Red Room. “I’ll quit hitting on you.” He said, meaning it.
Steve, who’d been chewing away, suddenly started choking on his mouthful of food. Bucky scrambled to his feet to try to help, but was waved off as Steve swallowed.
“You... you what?” He said, once he’d started breathing normally again. He sounded a little strangled, and Bucky was worried that he’d have to get Steve’s medication. He kept it in his bag, which was up in the guest room, stuffed beside the keyboard.
“I’ll stop hitting on you.” Bucky repeated, solemnly. “I didn’t think it would make you feel weird, I should have... um, I should have been cooler about it.”
Steve was gaping at him.
“Oh my god.” He said, after a while. “You fucking idiot.”
Bucky Barnes comes out to fans via Twitter, mentioning his ‘boyfriend Steve’ in a series of Q&A’s. The star has been avoiding the limelight since his break from record label Red Room, but has kept a steady online presence through social media, interacting with his fans. Although there has been some backlash, most comments have been supportive.
“Nick is one of the good guys,” Natasha said, looking over at Bucky. Steve was sitting on the couch in the meeting room, but Bucky was feeling trapped all over again, standing by the window and looking out over the city. “I wouldn’t suggest it unless I thought it would be what is best for you.”
Steve was staying quiet. Bucky wasn’t quite sure if he respected or resented that. They had an album, a really good fucking album – and Bucky was so proud of it, of every song, every fucking chord. He was gonna just throw it up on itunes or something, but Natasha had told him that Nick Fury, the director of Shield, the number one competitor of the Red Room wanted to hear it – wanted to offer them a deal.
The man himself was sitting at the end of the table, seemingly unaffected by Bucky’s internal struggle. The deal was good. The money was good, the expected promotional tour was good – talk shows and sit down interviews – nothing like it had been at Red Room where he was required to ‘be seen’ in specific locations.
“We expect you to stick to your AA meetings.” Fury said, “It’s a good look for you. As for dating-”
“We’re not breaking up.” Bucky cut in, fast. “I’m not fucking hiding our relationship.”
“As for dating-” Fury repeated. “I don’t give a damn what you do, as long as it’s legal.”
We caught up with James ‘Buchanan’ Barnes earlier today. The former bad boy of rock looked completely relaxed in a pair of jeans and a simple black shirt, rolled to his forearms. The distinctive plating tattoo on his arm mostly hidden. It’s a far cry from the tight leather and war-paint we’ve seen from him in the past.
“I’ve really changed,” He says, taking a drink of soda. The star has been sober for over a year since his break from Red Room and looks great for it. “This last year has been a real wake-up call for me, in my personal life as well as my career and I think ‘Brooklyn Boys’ is a real testament to that.”
The multi platinum album was a direct departure from the glam-rock of his work with Red Room and he shoots us that trademark grin at us when he nods. “That was deliberate. It’s been a conscious decision to go back to my roots, I started off with this sound and it’s where I feel I can really expose parts of my soul. It’s not the same sound as my previous albums because I’m not restricted in what I can put out any longer.”
We want to know more about the inspiration for ‘Brooklyn Boys’, and Bucky’s change of image. “It was a struggle at first,” He admits, running his hands through his hair before pausing to tie it back. “I knew what I wanted to do, what I wanted to say, but I was stunted. Natasha [Romanov] saw that and called up Steve.” He grins at the name, obviously thinking of his current and historically longest relationship, before carrying on. “Steve really pulled me together; we knew each other before I was signed to Red Room and he’s just one of those guys who’ll always just get the very best out of a person.” He smirks again, and we’ll admit we got a little weak at the knees. “Without him I wouldn’t be sitting here,” He says, solemnly. “I’d still be stuck. He’s probably one of the most talented people in the music industry today and I’ll be forever grateful that he co-wrote and performed this with me. It’s been a real labour of love. For both of us.”
This brings us to their personal relationship, of which there was a lot of early speculation. “I’ve always thought of Steve in that way.” Bucky admits, “But due to contractual reasons I wasn’t able to see the people that I wanted.” This is an obvious dig at the incredibly restrictive contract that he was forced into signing, details of which were leaked earlier this month – Red Room is currently under investigation for misconduct in several high profile contracts including James’ highly controversial contract which could see the star paid millions of dollars in reparation. “But once we got our heads out of our asses,” He laughs, “We made it work. He’s the one for me.” He says, with a glint in his eye. “He’s the inspiration for ‘End of the Line’ and he’s... he’s just it for me.”
‘End of the Line’ has been sitting at number 1 in the US billboard charts for 7 weeks now and looks to be THE wedding song every bride wants as her first dance. We ask him how it feels to be back at the top.
“Well,” He says, throwing us a glance that makes remember those shirtless posters from ‘Winter Soldier’ we had pinned to our walls when we were at college, “It’s just nice to be able to share such an important part of my soul with people. I feel blessed to have this second chance and I’m not going to waste it.”
You can buy ‘Brooklyn Boys’ on itunes now – with the chart topping ‘Not Without You’ and ‘On The Ropes’, and the highly anticipated ‘The Man on the Bridge (I knew him)’.