He wasn't, really. But he's a confident enough liar that he thinks he can get away with it. They beamed him here out of nowhere, they can't expect him to have brought ID with him.

Tempting as it was to snap at Billy that it was none of his business, talk of his favourite band makes him a little more willing to engage in conversation.

"I was. Just slumming it." He's not at the stage yet where he can actually leave permanently. He can't leave Cheryl behind, and he doesn't have any money. He just doesn't go home for a few days until he absolutely has to. All that's going to change though, once he gets his break with his bandmates. They'll be the biggest fucking wankers around. Everyone will know their names. He'll have enough money to take Cheryl and go anywhere they want, away from that useless fat fuck. Somewhere safe where they can make a home.

"I'm a punk rocker, through and through," he declares. "We'll be the talk of the whole town, just like the Pistols. Bigger than the fucking Beatles." And then-... and then they wouldn't have to live like this anymore.

"We've got gigs lined up, in Newcastle. I'm never going back to Liverpool."