We Are Lady Parts

So, yeah. Me again. Amina Hussein.

I recently completed a PhD in Microbiology. Yay, go me.

So, yes, you could call me Dr. Hussein,

if you felt so inclined, but, right now,

I am the lead guitarist of a punk band.

* Bashir with the good beard * * You're so pretty *

* You're so pretty You're so pretty *

* Bashir with the good beard *

* You've gone and disappeared *

This was the final gig of a magical summer of gigs.

And, oh, what a summer it had been.

One, two, three, four!

We had crisscrossed the country

in a beat-up VW camper van affectionately named "Karen."

Oi! Pick a lane, matey-boy!

Small to medium venues up and down England

have reverberated with our music.

Birmingham, we love you!

Hello, Liverpool. Stoke-on-Trent, let's go!

We had finally found our people. Our tribe.

Let me see all my sisters down in the front. Let's go!

Love you so much!

We had a following of not-insignificant proportions.

Actual human fans.

OMG, Saira, um, I love you so much.

Only Saira seemed to find the love all a bit overwhelming.

You're, like, my favorite ever.

OMG that's such a stupid thing to say.

Um, you're not a Pokémon.

Saira. Hi. It's me, Taifa. Oh.

Lifestyle vlogger-hyphen-

massive Lady Parts fan- hyphen-multi-hyphenate.

Did you get my DMs?

No, I don't think I did.

I'm not really online.

Thank you for all the support.

It really means a lot to us.

We were inspiring the next generation.

With a little help behind the scenes.

Thanks, man.

Appreciate you.

Stay beautiful. I'll get you a kebab.

Don't fuck up the kick.

Ahsan came too.

Official Lady Parts roadie. Whoa.

[HOOBASTANK'S "THE REASON" PLAYING]

* --that I just want you *

* To know *

* I've found a reason for me *

* To change who I used to be *

* A reason to start over new *

* And the reason is you *

Oh. Ahem.

Uh, I got you a kebab, but--

But I-- I can come back later. Uh-- No, thanks.

Uh, sorry. Sorry you had to see that.

I was just, um...

making a massive tit of myself.

You have a really great singing voice.

Really? No. That's a lie.

I'm lying to you. Please never do that again.

Mm.

We are absolutely delighted

to be ending our tour in London, our hometown!

Grotty, disgusting, beautiful London.

You have our heart.

And with the tour finally over,

we returned home to our mothership.

Damn, it's good to be back.

Stale farts and big dreams.

Mm. It stinks.

Ah.

Saira, what are all these? Mm-hm?

Ah, don't worry about it.

The council have been threatening

to turn our womancave into posh flats

for the past six years,

but it never goes through because, lucky for us,

we're built on a highly unstable sinkhole,

so, eat shit, capitalism.

Wait, what?

Mm, so nice to finally get to relax, kick back.

Game plan. Next steps.

You know what we've got to do.

A relaxing spa weekend?

A treat for all our hard work?

No, Amina. Not a relaxing spa weekend.

We are going to record an album.

An album? A hit record.

An opus. Our music immortalized.

Verily 'tis true.

We can pull a middling crowd to a not-so-shit venue.

We have a fanbase, thank you, Taz.

Pleasure. But now it's time

to lay down our legacy. Drum roll please.

We, us, Lady Parts,

will be recording our debut album

with the legendary Dirty Mahmood at Molico Studios.

He's back in the UK for a little stint next month,

he said he'd squeeze us in.

Aw, shit! No way!

Yes! No way!

Who are you talking about?

Mm?

Dirty Mahmood.

Only the greatest producer of all time.

He's a legend. A maverick. A maestro of the mixing desk.

He produced all seven incredible albums of Sister Squire.

Um, Sister who?

Who? Who?

Who? Who? Who?

Who? Who?

What is this, an owl sanctuary, am I right?

I didn't know it,

but Sister Squire, aka Samia Sheikh,

was our foremother.

The first ever Muslim woman punk.

Not that she ever referred to herself as such.

A cult figure with one breakthrough hit,

"Monkey Man Dance,"

a biting critique of the imperialist

white supremacist heteropatriarchy.

Ow.

Yeah, but, Saira, Mahmood's only agreed

to waive his producer fee.

We still gotta pay studio time and the sound engineer.

I know, it's fine. Whatever we made this summer from gigging

just throw that at it. Job's a good'un.

Saira, we need 2000. Pounds?

No, shillings.

And we only made 200.

Pounds?

Pounds, yes, pounds.

That's it? We-- We played, like, 30 gigs.

Gigging at this level doesn't pay.

Taz, now we need a gig that does pay to afford studio time.

You say that like it's easy.

I believe in you. We're recording this album.

Taz had her work cut out for her,

butpour moi, band life was going great,

and so was work.

I had landed a dream job

at Queen Elizabeth Institute for Stem Cell Research.

Things were finally going my way.

Wanna know why?

Because I was in my villain era.

After all, I had learned the hard way

that trying to please everyone

had a tendency to explode in one's face.

Yeah, it's a family emergency.

Oh, no, not family emergency. Aw!

Amina. Right back, promise.

Do you have any idea what you've done?

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.

So my new MO: Doing exactly what I want,

on my terms, my way.

Let me show you.

Amina. Dr. Saunders.

Now, I've told you, Amina, call me Jimmy.

Now, listen, I'm terribly sorry, but, um,

I'll need you to stay tonight to cover the liver disease tests.

I'm sorry, but as I detailed to you in my e-mail last week,

I have a hard out at 5:30 p.m. on Wednesdays

due to prior and pressing commitments.

Look, I'm always happy to help, but I require 48 hours' notice.

Good day to you.

Right.

I am not a people-pleasing yes-woman.

I'm a bad mother with boundaries.

Non-negotiables. Thank you. Thank you.

Villain era, baby.

Meanwhile, Taz was hard at work

trying to find paid jobs so we could afford

to record the album of Saira's dreams.

She was working around the clock.

You get it. You get it. No, you get it.

Momtaz Records, receptionist here.

How may I help you?

Oh, of course, just let me patch you through.

It's a promoter. Which promoter?

I don't know.

Momtaz here. Heh.

Gary, mate, you all right? Yeah, yeah. How's the daughter?

Yeah, brilliant. Brilliant. Yeah, no,

I was just calling around seeing if, uh,

you had anything for my band.

Yeah, w-- We-- We'd love to play Transcience Fest.

Transcience Fest.

How much does it pay?