In 1960s LA, a phone rings:
"Hi there. Shatner Residence. William Shatner is not home right now, but if you'd like..."
"Hi Bill, you can stop that. It's Toni.
Tony?
Your agent?"
"Oh hi... Toni... Sorry about that. You know... how it is..."
"Yeah. Hey, listen Bill... we've got a problem. It's about your singing career..."
"What's up?"
"Well, we've discovered you can't sing."
"Damn!"
"Ah well. Do you think you'll just concentrate on the acting career now? I might be able to get you some Shakespearian work with Olivier."
"Yeah. I guess so, I... No wait! Wait... I know what I'll do: I'll just speak all the lyrics."
"<pause> Will that work?"
"Yeah, yeah... I'm sure it will. It'll make me seem... avant garde... and... eccentric!"
"You don't think people will just think it's a laughable joke and only buy your records for kitch novelty value alone?"
"No, no... Toni... this is the 1960s! Velvet Underground... Andy Worhol... everyones doing things in an off the wall... kooky... beatnik kind of way... the French will love it! I'll be a star and I won't just be associated with Captain Kirk and Star Trek for the rest of my life. When people think of Bill Shatner... they'll think... kooky beatnik guru... the guy that says it how it is... rather than singing it."
"Erm, yeah... ok... I'll uh... I'll see if I can book you some more studio time. Ok?"
"Yeah Toni, Thanks."
"No... No problem Bill... Good luck."