Paul Is Undead: The British Zombie Invasion (32 page)

John said, “No, I’m saying it’s
not a question
that Paulie’s a git. Now, are you gonna help me murder the orchestra, or what?”

Paul said, “Now
that’s
a question.”

NEIL ASPINALL:
Three years earlier, John would’ve been able to do the whole lot all by himself, but now he needed Paul, and he probably knew that. However, that didn’t stop him from diving in solo.

GEORGE MARTIN:
John went after the violinists first. He didn’t transform them individually but, rather, three at once: chomp, chomp, chomp; suck, suck, suck; tongue, tongue, tongue; spit, spit, spit;
glue, glue, glue. It was a veritable zombie assembly line. The problem was, he bit off more than he could chew, so to speak, and he wasn’t plugging up the neck holes quickly enough, and there was blood
everywhere
.

PAUL M
C
CARTNEY:
I dunno what it was about those violinists, but they were
gushing
. It was like their veins were jet-propelled. Within seconds, the floor was covered, just
covered.

GEOFF EMERICK:
The pools were getting bigger and bigger, and our microphone cables were getting closer to being in harm’s way, so instinct took over, and I ran out of the control room and into the studio, where I promptly slipped and fell face-first into a blood puddle. I bloodied my nose … or, at least, I think I did. Everybody was leaking red, so the blood covering my face might’ve come from the cello section.

GEORGE MARTIN:
Paul ran to the corner of the studio and grabbed his bass, then placed it on top of an amplifier; then he said, “Sod it,” and jumped into the fray. I know Paul didn’t want to be part of zombifying this truly talented batch of orchestral musicians, but I suspect he went to help because he thought John wouldn’t be able to seal the wounds himself, and the tidal wave of blood would destroy every piece of equipment in the place.

PAUL M
C
CARTNEY:
We were now ankle-deep in the red stuff, and it was only gonna get worse. Once I knew my Höfner was out of harm’s way, I came to John’s rescue. No way he could’ve handled it himself. He’d lost a step. Hell, we’d
all
lost a step.

JOHN LENNON:
I was faster than ever, and I absolutely could’ve handled it myself.

GEOFF EMERICK:
Once Paulie got involved, the massacre ended pretty quickly. All in all, Lennon and McCartney created sixteen zombies, all of whom are still with the London Philharmonic, so it was win-win. John and Paul got brains, and the local orchestra got a killer string section for life.

The only piece of equipment that was permanently damaged was Ringo’s kick drum; he was able to play it, no problem, but it was stained dark red, and it looked hideous. But we weren’t going to be performing in concert anytime soon; thus, we were the only people who would see his bloodstained drum, so nobody was too concerned. Except, y’know, Ringo, but he was in a bad mood to start with.

RINGO STARR:
John and Paul were experimenting musically and multitracking and killing off our guest musicians, and George was off messing about with his skintar, so they were all in their element, which left me with a lot of free time. So what did I do with myself? Write some of my own tunes? Nah. Work on drumming technique? Nope.

I called
and scheduled a meeting. I was gonna make Eighth Level if it killed me.

:
Richard Starkey was disciplined. Richard Starkey had a good heart. Richard Starkey was a spiritual being who was in touch with his inner
everything
. But Richard Starkey was, is, and always will be a Seventh Level Ninja Lord. Nothing more, nothing less. And there is nothing wrong with that.

RINGO STARR:
I trekked over to
’s dojo on Molyneux Road back in Liverpool and was greeted with a reception worthy of a Fifty-fifth Level: streamers, balloons, and hundreds of shuriken
stuck in the wall in a pattern that spelled out beatles 4-ever! I almost wept.
wasn’t one for public displays of respect, so that was special.

guided me to a seat in the middle of the room, clapped his hands twice, and, out of nowhere, in an impressive display of cool Ninja skills, two dozen of his students materialized. They put on a private show that would’ve had the Shaolin monks on their feet: astounding choreography, mind-blowing feats of strength, and disappearing and reappearing. It went on for two hours, and as far as I was concerned, that wasn’t long enough.

Once the twenty-four Ninjas packed it in,
stood me up and guided me to the door. He said, “Young Starkey, you are a credit to Ninja Lords throughout the planet. Speak to the masses. Show them your skills. Make the public aware that Ninjas are a singular breed that deserves the respect of the world. I love you. I know you love me. Now spread love, because love is all you need.” Then he kissed me on the cheeks, and next thing I knew, I was out on the sidewalk. After I heard the front door click shut behind me, I hopped into the car and drove back to Abbey Road. What else could I do?

:
Quality drummer, passable Ninja. I did not want to put him through another Eight Level test. It would have been shaming for everybody.

RINGO STARR:
I showed up at the studio around dinnertime, and there’re George Martin and Geoff Emerick crawling around the lawn on their hands and knees, clearly in search of something. When I asked what was going on, Mr. Martin gave me a disgusted look and said, “Go up on the roof and find out for yourself.”

GEORGE HARRISON:
We were in the midst of a playback, and suddenly, John said, “It appears the walls are growing tentacles. Gotta go,” then he ran all the way up the stairs. Having seen our fair share of tentacles, Paul and I figured out pretty quickly that somebody’d dosed John. We never found out who, we never found out how; best we could figure is that one of the groupies who were parading in and out of the studio snuck a tab in his Corn Flakes.

I found John on the roof, sitting on the edge, farting up purple clouds and screaming, “Come back! Come back! Come back!”

I called out, “Oi, Johnny, what is it you want to come back?”

John said, “My fookin’ fingers!”