Film ’94, NewsRevue Quickie Sketch, 31 May 1994

I know, I know, sketches weren’t really my thing – the lyrics are better. Still, there are one or two half-decent groan gags in this quickie sketch:

FILM '94 - NAKED GROAN 33 1/3rd


BARRY NORMAN:Good evening. And indeed, why not?
Tonight on Film ’94, we cover films that reflect current affairs in 1994.
For example, we have the family politico-drama about hypocritical Minister for the Disabled, Nicholas Scott, and his charity worker daughter. It’s called, “My Father, the Heave Ho”.
Still on the subject of politics, an hilarious comedy on the whacky exploits of Tim Yeo, Stephen Milligan, Alan Clarke and Hartley Booth, counterpointed by the tragic demise of John Smith: “Four Beddings and a Funeral”….
…or if you prefer, and why shouldn’t you?, the action drama movie of the year, set in the dangerous world of Formula 1 motor racing: “Four Funerals and a Welding”.
One movie with an outside chance of success is about the advent of the National Lottery in Britain: “The Tory Luck Club”. In truth, you’re unlikely to get a winning lottery ticket. Indeed you’re more likely to get a case of Necrotising Fasciitis, the so called killer bug. Summer releases include a whole spate of international films covering this appetizing subject, including “Remains of the Thy”, “The Scent of Green Pap”, “Germy Nob”, “Farewell My Conk” and “So That’s What’s Eating Gilbert Grape”.
Goodnight.

Win A Lot, NewsRevue Lyric, 31 May 1994

Yes, there was life before the National Lottery, which was launched in the autumn of 1994. That spring, the contract to run the lottery was awarded to a consortium named Camelot. From the point of view of a comedy lyricist like me, the rest was history.

_ WIN A LOT _

(To the Tune of “Camelot”)

VERSE 1

Large lotteries were banned a while ago here,
To stop us betting everything we’ve got;
But now there’s mega-profits that could flow here,
From Camelot.

VERSE 2

Accounting firms who framed the deal made packets,
Consultancies have earned an awful lot;
Solicitors have got in on the racket,
They planned a lot.

MIDDLE EIGHT 1

BRANSON:Damn the lot, Camelot,
Now Branson’s turned a shade of green;
Camelot, Ham a lot,
The spectacle’s obscene.

VERSE 3

The razzmatazz is certain to delight us,
Huge prizes paid by Wogan on the spot;
More likely Necrotising Faciitis,
Than win a lot.

MIDDLE EIGHT 2

Win a lot, win a lot?
This country’s going to the dogs;
Gamble lots, Camelot,
Like Irish, Greeks and Frogs.

OUTRO

They say they’ll donate loads to worthy causes,
And half the take in prizes reappears;
But they won’t have forgot, the most auspicious lot,
By far the biggest winner of the year is Camelot.

Below is a video of the lyrics to Camelot, sung by Richard Burton:

If you prefer, you can hear and see Richard Harris (no relation, despite his familiar tendency to speak notes rather than sing them once they go out of range) perform the song Camelot in the movie:

Letter To Daryl Boot Re NewsRevue, 31 May 1994

Daryl Boot 31 May 1994
News Revue
 
Dear Daryl
 
STUFF

 
I really enjoyed the opening night and felt that you had all done an amazing job under difficult circumstances. This run should be a corker!
 
I have not felt very song inspired this weekend, I’m afraid, so you get one new song (Win A Lot), one sketch (which might well suit amalgamating with other similar material if you’ve had some) and an update of my song about the homeless that was in the show for a few weeks in Autumn 1992. I feel that it reflects current events better than it did in 1992!
 
I am glad you said you’re working on “Song With No Tune” and “Wimbledon”, especially the former. My test audience all really liked it. Several people were unaware that the Woodstock revival festival is to be called “Bethel”. Consider substituting “Woodstock” for “Bethel” (they scan the same), but I think that the festival promoters will have their way and Bethel will have wide name recognition in a week or two.
 
Look forward to seeing you soon, hopefully Thursday.
 
Yours sincerely
 
 
 
 
 
 
Ian Harris
 
encs

Letter To Daryl Boot Re NewsRevue, 23 May 1994

Daryl Boot 23 May 1994
News Revue
 
Dear Daryl
 
THE LATEST SONGS

 
I enclose two more for your new run. You should have received three via Jonathan Linsley a few days ago (Wimbledon, Song With No Name and Blair). If you didn’t get those, scream at Jonathan!
 
I am really looking forward to opening night so you had better make sure it’s a goodun! Look forward also to seeing you and your troupe.
 
 
 
Yours sincerely
 
 
 
 
 
 
Ian Harris
 
encs

Letter To Ben Murphy, 23 May 1994

Ben Murphy 23 May 1994
Ben Murphy Associates?
[Address and Postcode Redacted]
Newquay
Cornwall

Dear Ben
 
MORE SONGS

 
Have you noticed how sole practitioner businesses tend to be called “Suchandsuch Associates”? The word “associates” is the giveaway that this person has no associates. And possibly no friends either. Anyway, I needed to put something in the space marked “organisation”.
 
Here are the new ones.
 
I am standing by the letter box waiting to receive huge wads of readies.
 
Have fun in the studio. Speak to you soon.
 
Yours sincerely
 
 
 
 
 
 
Ian Harris
 
encs

Barrymore’s Tight Awright, NewsRevue & Ben Murphy Lyric, 23 May 1994

Ben Murphy encouraged me to write about this fellow, Michael Barrymore, who had only minimally entered my  consciousness previously.

I wrote and logged this lyric 23 May 1994. Not sure why I copied it, seemingly verbatim, to Amipro 30 November 1994 – probably just a resubmission thing and a desire for a while to port some of the existing lyrics into Amipro as templates for future lyrics.

Not sure if this ever got used. Ben Murphy did a Barrymore thing loosely based on it, using a different tune, I think.

BARRYMORE’S TIGHT AWIGHT
(To the Tune of “Saturday Night’s Alright”)
VERSE 1

It’s Saturday, late,
I need some opiate,
Cos Michael Barrymore is here;
Seven o’clock, so I’ll snort some rock,
Then I’ll get a belly full of beer.

My old lady, Cheryl,
Says my life is deep in peril,
But my producer knows I’m sane;
He says I look cute when we’re ready to shoot,
With a heap load of shit in my brain.

Ohhhhhhhhhhh….

CHORUS 1

Don’t give me more rehabilitation,
Cos drying out’s an effing bore;
Saturday night’s awight for tripping,
When you’re Michael Barrymore.

Speed has got me talking like a diesel train,
I’m gonna strike it lucky tonight;
Saturday night’s awight for snorting,
Saturday night’s awight.
Awight, awight, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.
(Barrymore collapses and tries to crawl off the stage)

OPTIONAL OUTRO

(Chorus enters to help carry Barrymore off. As they do this they chant)
Barrymore, Barrymore, Barrymore, Barrymore, Barrymore, Barrymore,
Barrymore, Barrymore, Barrymore’s tight awight.

Here’s Elton John singing Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting with lyrics on the screen:

Letter To Ben Murphy, 19 May 1994

Ben Murphy 19 May 1994
[Address & Postcode Redacted]
Wells
Somerset

Dear Ben
 
MORE SONGS FOR YOU

 
Here are a couple of new ones hot off the press. These might be good for your tape and/or your summer gigs.
 
Speak to you soon.
 
 
Yours sincerely
 
 
 
 
 
 
Ian Harris
 
 

Letter To Daryl Boot Re NewsRevue, 19 May 1994

Daryl Boot 19 May 1994
News Revue
 
Dear Daryl
 
NEW SONGS

 
Here are some new ones for you. I hope you like them.
 
Look forward to seeing you soon.
 
Yours sincerely
 
 
 
 
 
 
Ian Harris
 
 

A Song With No Tune/ Woodstock Revival Song, NewsRevue Lyric, 18 May 1994

It doesn’t make sense for NewsRevue, this one, but by gosh it does make sense for me to play with it now (May 2017) as a practice/performance piece on my baritone ukuleles.

I republished it unchanged as The Woodstock Revival Song in October 1994 but I don’t think anyone picked up on it that time either.

I rather like it, mainly because I always disliked “A Horse With No Name” and the feeble attempts of non-talented guitar players to render both of its chords.  As I said, ideally suited for me to try out new techniques on my ukes.

A SONG WITH NO TUNE 

(To the Tune of “A Horse With No Name”)

 

(The singer’s voice should start to show strain from the middle of VERSE 2 onwards)

 

VERSE 1

 

In my first gig out in Bethel,

I was hoping the crowd was alive;

There were heads and hawks and hogs and freaks,

There for Woodstock to revive.

 

The first thing I played was a chord name of E,

And the second note was an E;

For the third chord, I thought I’d try me an E,

On the fourth I freaked out with an E.

 

CHORUS 1

 

I’m giving a concert with a song with no tune,

It’s so good to get out here and croon;

If you remember, it has no words either soon,

And the la las’ll send the crowd right over the moon;

La la, la la la la, la la la, la la;

(Wow-harmony) La la, la la la, la la la, la la;

 

VERSE 2

 

After two days in the Bethel rain,

My songs were sounding like Bread;

After three days, my throat is in so much pain,

I sound like Crosby Stills and Nash instead;

And the stories I told made them realise I’m old,

And the crowd wished that I was dead.

 

CHORUS 2

 

You see I’m giving a concert with a song with no range,

It’s so good to be out on the stage;

The lack of lyrics may appear to be strange,

But you can’t recall much when you get to my age;

La la, la la la la, la la la, la la;

(All together now) La la, la la la la, la la la, la la; (Key change….

….no only kidding) La la, la la la la, la la la, la la.

Here is America singing A Horse With No Name with lyrics up on the screen:

 

The Wimbledon Song, NewsRevue Lyric, 18 May 1994

I normally left sport stories to the experts – we had several of those on the writing team for NewsRevue. But clearly I wanted to vent my spleen about Wimbledon ahead of time:

_ THE WIMBLEDON SONG _

(To the Tune of “The Wombling Song”)

CHORUS 1

Underdogs, over hyped,
Weak as gnats pee;
The weaklings of Wimbledon fortnight are we.
Tho’ we are English and on our home ground,
We’re over the moon if we reach the third round.

MIDDLE EIGHT 1

Auntie Virginia,
Can remember the days when we didn’t lose all the time,
(A very long time ago),
We’re ineffectual,
Cos our arms are weak and legs are slow.

CHORUS 2

Under stress, overpaid,
Tennis starlets;
The new breed of champions are space cadets;
They are clean cut and incredibly fit,
They don’t lose their tempers, they’re boring as shit.

MIDDLE EIGHT 2

Poor little Jennifer,
Capriati says that she wants to be like normal kids,
So she smokes crack, smack and dope;
England’s team should follow suit,
Except they should take speed and cortisone (and testosterone).

CHORUS 3

Under brollys, overcharged,
Crazed devotees,
The Wimbledon crowd are a bunch of loonies;
They pay five quid for a strawberry or ten,
Do Mexican waves and bring them all back again (blagggghhhh).

In 1997 I tried again with this lyric, changing only the second Middle Eight:

MIDDLE EIGHT 2
Tim Henman mania,
Anybody would think the poor bastard stands half a chance,
To stick around ’til week two;
English players could always win,
It’s just that they have better things to do.

Below is a video of The Wombles singing The Wombling Song:

Here is a link to the lyrics of that great piece, The Wombling Song.