We are in the offices of The Catashi Gallery. Head of Acquisitions, PABLO SANCHEZ is waiting for a scheduled call from his employer, MISTER CATASHI. His desk, the tiled floor and the walls around him are the purest of unspecified whites, although magnolia would be my guess. There is nothing on the desk except an oversized, vintage red telephone. SANCHEZ twitches nervously. He knows what this call is about. He knows that he cannot get what he is going to be asked for. He knows the conversation will end badly. The RECEPTIONIST rings through.

RECEPTIONIST:Call for you, Sir. It is Mr. Catashi in LA. The time there is 23:23.

SANCHEZ: Thank you, Clive. Put Mr. Catashi through and…


SANCHEZ: Get me on the next flight to Liverpool. John Lennon Airport, I think it is.

RECEPTIONIST: As you wish, Sir. Shall I arrange accommodation and prepare an overnight bag?

SANCHEZ: That would be great, make sure that you…

RECEPTIONIST: Sir, Mr. Catashi is waiting.

SANCHEZ: Shit. Christ. Fuck. Sorry. Put him through.

CATASHI: What the fuck took you so long?

SANCHEZ: Mr. Saatchi, Sir, sorry I, er, my, er…

CATASHI: I get it. It was that cunt Clive. He’s a fucking liability. Who the fuck as ever heard of a receptionist called Clive?

SANCHEZ: He’s very…

CATASHI: Very what?


CATASHI: Very fucking inept is what I say.

SANCHEZ: He’s very…

CATASHI: Very fucking unemployed is what he is. Have him clear his desk by the end of the day. No one. NO ONE keeps me waiting.

SANCHEZ: As you wish, Sir. By the end of the day.

CATASHI: Now. If you’re worth anything like the money I’m paying you, you’ll know why I’m ringing.

SANCHEZ: Liverpool, Sir.

CATASHI: Liverpool.

SANCHEZ: Well, the thing is…

CATASHI: I want it.


CATASHI: Yeah, it. Whatever it is. The whole fucking thing. Welcome To The Pleasuredome…

SANCHEZ: The Dark Ages, Sir.


SANCHEZ: The work. It’s entitled Welcome To The Dark Ages.

CATASHI: Yeah. Whatever.

SANCHEZ: Whatever, Sir?

CATASHI: Yeah, whatever it’s called, I want it.


CATASHI: Don’t you say ‘but’…

SANCHEZ: Bbbbuuu….

CATASHI: Don’t you fucking say it!


CATASHI: Yes, well. Well what?

SANCHEZ: Well, the thing is…

CATASHI: The thing is, I FUCKING WANT IT. Comprendez?

SANCHEZ: Yes, Sir.

CATASHI: Finally. Finally he fucking gets it.

SANCHEZ: Do we have a budget to work to, Sir.

CATASHI: Whatever it takes.


CATASHI: Whatever. It. Takes.

SANCHEZ: But, money, Sir. It’s not really their…thing.

CATASHI: I know. I know. I know about Jura. I know about the ashes in the suitcase that your predecessor couldn’t get me. And I know what happened to him. As do you. Besides, I know what they really want.

SANCHEZ: What’s that Sir?

CATASHI: They want to be artists. They want respect. They want the plaudits. They want to be BANKSY. And you, through me, can give it to them.

SANCHEZ: As you wish, Sir.

CATASHI: Sanchez?

SANCHEZ: Yes, Sir?

CATASHI: Not getting this would break my heart. Do you hear me? Break. My. Heart.


CATASHI: You don’t want to break my heart, do you, Sanchez?


CATASHI: Whatever. It. Takes.

SANCHEZ: Whatever it takes, Sir.

CATASHI: Good. And if they need a bit of a push, call Keith.

SANCHEZ: Keith, Sir.

CATASHI: He was very persuasive with Damien and I’m fairly certain he contributed to some of that mess on Tracey’s bed.

SANCHEZ: I will contact him if necessary, Sir.

CATASHI: No need.


CATASHI: He’s already on his way.

SANCHEZ: His way, Sir?

CATASHI: To Liverpool, you fucking dimwit. Which is where you should be. Yesterday.

SANCHEZ: Yes, Sir. Clive is just…

CATASHI: Clive is just clearing his fucking desk. There’s a car outside for you now.

SANCHEZ: OK, Sir. Thank you, Sir.

CATASHI: I’ve got a couple of insiders in place in The 400 already. Keith will give you the details when you arrive.

SANCHEZ: Insiders, Sir?

CATASHI: Yes, of course. How do you think I know what the fuck is going on?

SANCHEZ: Very good, Sir.

CATASHI: Sanchez…I want it all.

SANCHEZ: As you wish, Sir.

CATASHI: (click)



SANCHEZ: Could you come in here please?

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