Norman The Chancellor, Topical Lyric, 30 May 1993

I cannot recall whether or not my January 1992 sardonic song about Norman Lamont was ever performed in NewsRevue.

But this one, when he resigned in May 1993, was a feature of the show for some time and I think went to Edinburgh that summer too. It has a nice political knockabout quality to it.

Strangely, I don’t think there were, in May 1993, confirmed rumours that Norman was going to score City directorships in a hurry; I was supposing. But by September he had joined the Board of NM Rothchild and I wrote a rather pointed update to my lyrics that autumn, click here to see those, which extended its shelf life.

The tune is the well-known children’s song, Nellie the Elephant:

Here’s the original May 1993 version of my lyrics:

♬ NORMAN THE CHANCELLOR ♬

(To the Tune of “Nellie The Elephant”)

VERSE

One grey day,

A cabinet shuffle came;

The people said they were badly lead,

And Norman got the blame.

John may say,

He offered environment;

But Norman’s sights were on greater heights,

So he left in discontent.

 

CHORUS

Oh,

Norman the Chancellor packed his punch,

And said goodbye to John’s circus;

Off he went in a grumpety grump, grump, grump, grump.

Norman the Chancellor did some lunch,

And said hello to the city;

He’ll get rich in the slumpety slump, slump, slump, slump.

 

MIDDLE BIT

Directorships were calling far far away,

He stopped and bought,

His cigars and port,

In a Threshers on the way.

 

OUTRO

So,

Norman the Chancellor left the bunch,

To slag them off in his memoirs;

Griping that he was dumpety dump,

Dump,

Dump,

Dumped.

 

 

Bagels In The Morning, NewsRevue Lyric, 29 May 1993

This was a rewrite of one of my earliest comedy lyrics.

The original was generic, but the rewrite was intended for NewsRevue – in honour of Barbra Streisand’s much publicised affair with Andre Agassi, which Agassi at one time described as “like wearing hot lava”.

I don’t think this lyric was ever used in the show.

                                   BAGELS IN THE MORNING – VERSION TWO
(To the Tune of “Angel of the Morning”)
 
VERSE 1 – BARBARA STREISAND
 
You tell me I am your princess,
And Barbara Streisand’s all the rage;
You, Andre, fell for my caress,
Despite the fact I’m twice your age.
 
Our love affair is so audacious,
That when I wake up I’m voracious.
 
CHORUS 1 – BARBARA STREISAND
 
Go fetch me bagels in the morning,
Go fetch me lox with smooth cream cheese,
Go fetch me bagels in the morning,
I’ve conquered Andre Agassi.
 
VERSE 2 – ANDRE AGASSI AND BARBARA STREISAND
 
ANDRE:You were a less assertive catch,
When we met at the Open;
I courted you game set and match,
 
BARBARA:With fumbling and gropin’.
 
In your virility I trusted,
But you didn’t cut the mustard.
 
 
CHORUS 2 – ANDRE AGASSI
 
ANDRE:I’ll need some new balls in the morning,
I need to work on my forehand;
My only service ace this morning,
Is bringing bagels for Streisand.
 
BARBARA:Some with seeds and onions,

CHORUS 3 – BARBARA STREISAND {AND ANDRE AGASSI IN HARMONY}
 
Go fetch me bagels in the morning, {I’ll fetch her bagels in the morning}
Go fetch me lox with smooth cream cheese, {I’ll fetch her….}
Go fetch me bagels in the morning, {I’ll fetch her bagels in the morning}
 
ANDRE:This cow’s impossible to please.

I demonstrated a suitable tune on the 1991 version with PP Arnold’s rendition of Angel Of The Morning. Here is Juice Newton’s rendition of the same song:

Car Maker Burana, NewsRevue Lyric, 24 May 1993

I watched very little television in those days – I had no TV at the flat from the summer of 1990 until towards the end of that decade. I did see some TV at Janie’s place and at the gym, though – clearly the amount of advertising dedicated to selling cars made an impression on me.

This lyric did well in NewsRevue – I especially remember Jonathan Linsley liking it – perhaps for its lung-busting quality – perhaps for the out of context thought of chicken korma.

                                             CAR MAKER BURANA

(To the Tune of “O Fortuna” from “Carmina Burana”)

(OPTIONAL ANNOUNCEMENT:And now we proudly present Car Maker Burana by Carl Ott)

INTRO

A fortuna, we’ll spend sooner,

Car makers advertising.

VERSE 1

Ford Mondeo, Renault Clio,

The advert’s saying sod all;

Vauxhall Corsa ads are coarser,

A topless supermodel.

VERSE 2

Fiat Strada, Skoda, Lada,

Don’t advertise on tele;

Ford Fiesta on the tester,

Unleaded is less smelly.

VERSE 3

Austin Metro, Audi Quatro,

Are advertised on posters;

Fiat Tippo, Ford Scorpio,

Both run like roller coasters.

VERSE 4

Swift Suzuki, Honda Pukey,

These rhymes have got remoter;

Nissan Dorma, Chicken Korma,

And that is all for now as we have got to motor.

Technically, the above lyric is version two which was published a couple of months later. The only line that seems to have changed between the two versions is line two of verse one, which started its life as:

The adverts are such twaddle;

A little note for the completists, there.

Postscript: 25+ years after writing Car Maker Burana, I have become more ensconced in the world of early music, both reading about it, playing it and playing about with it. I stumbled across the following essay by my early music teacher, Ian Pittaway, which made me realise that, far from being a modern parodist, I have long been a contrafactist in a tradition dating back hundreds of years.

One song to the tune of another: early music common practice, 800 years before Humph

Not only that, but the specific work I chose to parody…I mean, as my contrafactum…for the Car Maker lyric, is from a 12th/13th century goliardic tradition of just such contrafacta. Go figure.

Anyway, here is a video of O Fortuna from Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana with translation on the screen…

…and here is Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic delivering the piece more recently:

While here is a third and slightly weirder version.

President Al, NewsRevue Lyric, 23 May 1993

I rather liked this lyric, but I don’t think it was ever used.

                                                              PRESIDENT AL

                                           (To the Tune of “You Can Call Me Al”)
 
VERSE 1 – CLINTONS
 
A man in Washington he says,
Why am I soft in the noddle now?
Why am I soft in the noddle when the rest of my team is so bright?
I need a photo opportunity,
I need a lot of attention,
Don’t want to end up a has been in a tax and spend fight.
 
Bill Clinton, Bill Clinton, ponders there all night,
Far away in the Oval Room,
Hilary Clinton, Hil Clinton has much more ability,
But for now the USA it just won’t boom.
 
CHORUS 1- CLINTONS
 
“If you are a feminist,
I can give you jobs” said Bill;
“Wife in charge of health care,
And medical appointments are now made with Hil”.
 
VERSE 2 – GORES
 
A man in Washington he says,
“Why am I short of attention?
Get so damned little media attention and my job’s such a bore.
Got my wife beside me,
We stand behind Clinton,
He needs a role model and we are clothes models”,
 
Gore, Gore, we should be in Hollywood unlike,
Bill’s roly poly little bat faced girl;
And the poor, poor, say we are all star struck,
Can’t decide if we’re decisive enough.
 
CHORUS 2 – GORES
 
I look like a bodyguard,
And Tipper is the Clinton’s pal;
And although I’m steady,
I’m ready if I’m called in as President Al,
White House Al.

This lyric works ever so well with the tune of You Can Call Me Al by Paul Simon. Dig this vid:

Portillo, NewsRevue Lyric, 23 May 1993

Another lyric that went begging, as far as I can recall.


                                                                 PORTILLO

                                                   (To the Tune of “Tit Willow”)
 
VERSE 1
 
In the house at Westminster an abrasive git,
Known as Brillo Portillo Portillo;
Had his hands on the purse strings and talked heaps of shit,
That fellow Portillo Portillo.
Is it weakness of intellect in Michael’s ken,
Or a rather tough line from those Thatcherite men?
 
PORTILLO:It’s my mindless ambition to reach number ten.
 
But will-oh Portillo Portillo?
 
 
VERSE 2
 
He planned lots of cuts and he made Tories row,
That is still-oh Portillo Portillo;
 
PORTILLO:The young and the poor never vote anyhow,
 
Thus billowed Portillo Portillo.
He sounded like Thatcher, young Mike must’ve seen her,
But from his mouth the policies sounded obscener,
 
PORTILLO:If they can’t afford pills let the plebs drink Ribena.
 
That’s shrill-oh Portillo Portillo.
 
VERSE 3
 
Now I feel just as sure as I’m sure Gordon Brown,
Tried to grill-oh Portillo Portillo;
That his own over zeal will bring young Michael down,
Sounds brill-oh Portillo Portillo.
He would charge for the pill but we can’t understand,
Why he’d dish out free condoms with the other hand,
 
PORTILLO:My Mates shares have just gone up eighty-five grand.
 
Cheap thrill-oh Portillo Portillo.

The above lyric works well to the Tit Willow song from the Mikado:

All My Sons by Arthur Miller, The Questors Theatre, 22 May 1993

Once bitten but seemingly not twice shy, here was another evening at the Questors with Pauline, Janie’s mum. Quite soon after the previous visit to see The Real Thing:

On this occasion, I had been at a BDO Awayday on the Friday and overnight into the Saturday. This might have been the one after which Steve Taylor nearly lost his life in a car accident driving off to play cricket on the Saturday, but perhaps that was an earlier one.

I too was taking risks with my next day activities, but a different family of risks.

Anyway, according to Janie’s diary, she took work on the Saturday morning and gave blood that afternoon, before our evening engagement with her mum…

…that really is like giving blood twice in one day – not recommended.

Much like with The Real Thing, Janie and I got the opportunity, about seven years later, to see a tippy-top professional production of this fine play – in the case of All My Sons, one of Arthur Miller’s finest.

The Questors production was not at all bad, though.

No drinks at Pauline’s before this one – I think Pauline set into what became the regular pattern of “fairness”, which was:

  • Pauline did The Questors tickets
  • Janie paid for the drinks at The Questors
  • I paid for the restaurant meal afterwards.

I learnt some years later that, as a member of The Questors, Pauline got a certain number of free tickets for shows and I am pretty sure she calibrated her membership/invitations to ensure that she wasn’t actually paying for our tickets…ever.

Fair enough.

Janie’s diary reveals that we ate at Lisa’s after that particular show. Lisa served pretty good food on Pitshanger Lane, but my goodness did you get Lisa’s life story thrown in free of charge along with the food, especially if you were one of only a handful of late/after theatre tables.

Lisa’s was still there 20 years or so on, but now gone for good, I believe. Possibly just as well.

Better The Leader You Know, NewsRevue Lyric, 16 May 1993

This is not one of my better lyrics and I’m pretty sure it never made the show.

                                           BETTER THE LEADER YOU KNOW

                                    (To the Tune of “Better The Devil You Know”)
 
WOGANESQUE VOICE:Good evening and welcome to the Eurotory leadership contest.  The UK jury is definitely out tonight as we go over now to hear this year’s losing entry by the UK Tory Party.
 
VERSE 1 – JOHN MAJOR
 
One thing about those Tory blues,
They rarely treat their leaders true;
When I do something not quite right,
They’re round with long knives in the night.
It is a chore to be PM,
But the job’s mine and not for them.
 
CHORUS 1 – STILL JOHN MAJOR
 
Better the leader you know than the leader you don’t,
Oh yes, oh yes,
I can buy a little time by sacking Lamont,
Oh yes oh yes;
Better the leader you know than the leader you don’t.
 
VERSE 2 – MAGGIE THATCHER
 
I tell him he’s a wally almost every day,
I’m out of my head or so the brain shrinks say;
He wont assert himself like the real Tory men,
He’s got the key to my place, meaning Number 10.
You know I’ve more spunk than those men,
We’ll junk John then I’ll run again.
 
CHORUS 2 – MAGGIE THATCHER
 
Better the leader you know than the leader you don’t,
Ah ha, ah ha,
I can cause a lot of fuss while these new Tories wont,
Ah ha, ah ha.
 
OUTRO
 
MAJOR:Don’t chose Portillo,
THATCHER:Or Hestletine;
BOTH:No peccadillos, that job is mine.
Better the leader,
Better the leader you know than the leader you don’t. 

The above lyrics work to the tune of Better The Devil You Know, which was the UK’s Eurovision entry in 1993. Decide for yourselves whether my lyric or the Eurovision song is more dreadful:

Dinner At Victor & Kim’s Place, Hampstead Way, 15 May 1993

We went for dinner at Victor & Kim’s place. Kim & Micky were also there. DJ might have been there too that night but I have a feeling it was just the six of us.

Victor’s second wife was named Kim, which caused some confusion with his daughter Kim when, on occasions, someone mentioned “Kim” without a fair bit of context.

Janie’s solution was to add the suffix “the chickidoo” when referring to Victor’s Kim, while omiting said suffix when referring to her old school pal Kim. Clever stuff.

Anyway, I seem to recall a very enjoyable evening on that occasion. Good food, good wine, good chat.

What else might one wish for from such an evening?

He Who Saw Everything by Robert Temple & Anon, Cottesloe Theatre, 14 May 1993

This piece was billed as:

fragments from The Epic of Gilgamesh…

…which made it rather interesting.

It was part of the Springboards thingie – we saw three of these studio pieces in two weeks – this was the third:

Daisy and I rated this one very good. Weird, though.

I don’t think the Observer reviewed this one, but the Guardian did – below is Michael Billington’s review of this piece.

Billio might choose to call his autobiography He Who Saw Everything, now I come to think of it.

Michael Billington He Who Saw Everything May 1993Michael Billington He Who Saw Everything May 1993 Sat, May 15, 1993 – 28 · The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com

Interesting stuff. It’s one of those nights at the theatre about which I remember little detail but it left a lingering impression on me nonetheless. I can still sort-of remember the sights, sounds and even smells of it.

Domestic Fuel, NewsRevue Lyric, 12 May 1993

I think this was one of the best lyrics I wrote for NewsRevue.

It was almost certainly the quickest, in terms of creative process.

The idea for it – based on the government’s imposition of VAT on domestic fuel for the first time in the UK – popped into my head as a Circle Line train approached High Street Kensington. I grabbed a piece of paper from my attache case, boarded the train and started writing.

I was done by the time we arrived at Notting Hill Gate – perhaps 90 seconds later, I still have the piece of paper somewhere – I’ll scan it and add it once I go through that part of my physical archive.

There is also a story attached to my witnessing the song’s first ever performance – a couple of weeks or so later. Keith Wickham was directing the show and I was very keen to attend the opening night; 27 May 1993.

I was in Manchester on business and arranged to leave quite early on the Thursday afternoon to be sure to arrive back in London on time. But I hadn’t accounted for several junctions of the M6 motorway to be a blocked by an accident, which meant hours of traffic jams and diversions.

I remember clearly writing off the idea of going home first…then writing off the idea of eating a proper meal before the show and eventually even writing off the idea of getting a beer and a packet of crisps in before curtain up. I think I drove much too fast once I got past the hazard and was lucky to get to the Canal Cafe Theatre at 20:00 on the dot and in one piece, just in time for curtain up.

I’m pretty sure that the crowning glory of that dash was, for me, to see Domestic Fuel performed and I’m pretty sure it was Rosie Cavaliero who performed it that night – perhaps Keith can confirm or deny.

Anyway, here’s the lyric:

DOMESTIC FUEL

(To the Tune of “Everything I Own”)

VERSE 1 – OLD BIDDY

Fuel sheltered me from harm,

Kept me warm, kept me warm;

Fuel gave my light to me,

‘lec-tric-ly, ‘lec-tric-ly;

But Tory ministers are cruel,

By taxing my domestic fuel.

CHORUS 1 – STILL WITH THE BIDDY

So I must give everything I own,

Give up my light, my hearth, my phone,

And cut my expenses to the bone;

Just to heat my flat again,

And to treat my sore chilblain.

VERSE 2 – A CRUEL TORY

This is someone who’s old,

Decrepit and bold,

Who is taking hand outs for granted;

We shall lose her one day,

Hypothermia, say,

Then there’s one less pension we must pay.

CHORUS 2 – STILL THE CRUEL TORY

(To audience)Cos we have taxed everything you earn,

(To Biddy)Now it’s the old must take their turn,

{BIDDY:  eh}

We’ll ignore health and age concern;

{BIDDY:  mustn’t grumble}

Just to balance books again,

Lower interest rates again,

Then we’ll tax her once again.

{BIDDY:I don’t want to be any trouble.}

Ben Murphy made a good recording of this one – you can listen below:

Not quite the power of the original performance – superbly done by Rosie Cavaliero – but that original performance is sadly lost in the mists of time.

If you want to know what Everything I Own sounds like when sung by Ken Booth, click here (where you can also read the lyrics) or watch the embedded vid below: