A Letter To Bill Dare At Spitting Image Re Brian Hilling’s Correspondence, 28 December 1993

Following up on the unexpected contact I’d had from Brian Hilling of Spitting Image…

…I also wrote to Bill Dare:


Bill Dare 28 December 1993
Spitting Image
17-19 Plumber’s Row
London
E1 1EQ
 
 
Dear Bill
 
SONGS
 
I am writing on the advice of puppeteer Brian Hilling, who saw the enclosed song “Domestic Fuel” in News Revue and took a shine to it.
 
I have written a great deal for News Revue since your Giles Pilbrow kindly put me in touch with them many moons ago.  Spitting Image gave me a great deal of encouragement in my early days of writing, and I feel that I have been somewhat remiss in losing touch with you.
 
I have now built up a large portfolio of material and would like to meet with you to explore possibilities of using or adapting my material to suit your needs.
 
Yours sincerely
 
 
 
 
 
 
Ian Harris
 
enc
 
cc:Brian Hilling

Nothing came of it, meeting-wise. I’m not sure I even got a reply, but I do have a file of incoming correspondence, including some from Spitting Image, which absolutely needs to be trawled and scanned at some point.

A Letter To Brian Hilling At Spitting Image Re NewsRevue Lyric, “Domestic Fuel”, 28 December 1993

I don’t recall receiving a call from Brian Hilling of Spitting Image regarding Domestic Fuel…

…but it must have happened, otherwise I wouldn’t have written the following letter:

Brian Hilling                                                                        28 December 1993
Spitting Image
17-19 Plumber’s Row
London
E1 1EQ
 
Dear Brian
 
DOMESTIC FUEL

 
Thank you so much for taking an interest in “Domestic Fuel” and for your call.  I enclose a copy of the letter I have written to Bill plus a copy of the song for good measure.
 
Please do not hesitate to heap praise on my work and leave me messages of encouragement whenever you wish.
 
Yours sincerely
 
 
 
 
 
 
Ian Harris
 
encs

Mrs T, Attempted Spitting Image Lyric, Eventually NewsRevue Lyric, 10 February 1992

One of my earlier attempts, this.

Originally submitted to Spitting Image, 9 or 10 February 1992, I subsequently submitted it to NewsRevue.

Anything that worked to “I Will Survive” was automatically on John Random’s prohibited list, I later discovered, but I did eventually get a version of the song into NewsRevue, perhaps as late as October 1993 but I think probably before that too.

You can’t keep a good lyric down, John; this one is, in my view, quite a good lyric.

The following version is e-dated April 1992, so the original Spitting Image one might be lost for all time, but I doubt if I really changed it between February and April – just a tiny tweak I suspect, otherwise I’d have saved it as a revised version:

MRS T

(sung by Maggie Thatcher to the tune of “I Will Survive”)

 

VERSE 1

At first I was afraid; (yes, even Mrs T),

Was scared of living out my life without publicity;

But then I spent so many nights just watching “Grey Man” droning on,

And I grew strong; and I learned how to get back on.

 

So now I’m back, from outta space,

To find that people know my voice and they still recognise my face.

 

I should have sacked the bleeding lot, I should have left the EEC,

If I had known for just one second that they’d end up sacking me.

 

CHORUS 1

Oh yes it’s me,

I’m on TV,

Even though it’s only Channel 4,

Or sometimes BSkyB,

But I’ve got interviews to give,

So while I still can breath and live,

I’m on TV,

I’m on TV.

 

VERSE 2

I tried to warn you, John, about the EMU,

But now I fail to understand what people see in you;

Cos then you took me to one side and whispered softly in my ear,

That it was better for the party if I quietly disappear.

 

So I went back, across the sea,

Where I had organised a Brussels photo-opportunity.

 

Yes I went straight up to the top, because I’m never one to tarry,

And I tried to head-butt Jacques Delors and kneecap Ray McSharry.

 

CHORUS 2

So no more blues,

I’m in the news,

Even though it’s just page seven,

Of the Finchley Evening News,

But I have speeches left to make,

And there are photographs to take,

I’m in the news,

I’m in the news.

Here is Gloria Gaynor singing I Will Survive:

…and here is a link to the lyric to the Gloria song.

For any completists out there who are still reading, here is the October 1993 version which was adapted for some hoo-ha around Mrs T’s memoirs or something:

  MRS T – AUTUMN 1993

(sung by Maggie Thatcher to the tune of “I Will Survive”)

 

VERSE 1

At first I was afraid; (yes, even Mrs T),

Was scared of living out my life without publicity;

But then I spent so many nights just watching “Grey Man” droning on,

That I grew strong; and I learned how to get back on.

 

So now I’m back, and out in print,

My memoirs will be a best seller so I’m going to make a mint.

They detail how I discharged Howe, because he backed the EEC,

I’ve been voracious for revenge since those dumb bastards ousted me.

 

CHORUS 1

Oh yes it’s me, literally,

You know my book has been reviewed on Channel 4 and BSkyB;

And I have memoirs left to write,

That dump John Major in the shite,

I will revive, I will reprise.

 

VERSE 2

I tried to warn the public that John Major’s thick,

And that those arseholes Clarke and Lawson used to make me sick;

But then the Tory party magnets whispered softly in my ear,

That it was better for the party if I quietly disappear.

 

So I went home and wrote my book,

And now those jerks who tried to gag me are deep in the shtook,

You see my memoirs have a knack of making everyone look silly,

And they ought to circulate more quickly than Dave Mellor’s willy.

 

CHORUS 2

So no more blues, my book’s reviewed,

Even tho’ it’s one of seven in the Finchley Evening News;

But I’ve more paragraphs to draft,

Cos half my cabinet was daft,

I will surmise, I will surprise, hey, hey.

(People in white coats lead her away, saying “there there” and “just slip your arms into this nice little jacket”)

 

50 Ways To Shop Your Lover, Unused Lyric, 9 February 1992

This nasty lyric turns 25 today (the day I’m writing this Ogblog piece) so I thought its anniversary needs marking.

I had been engaging in correspondence with Spitting Image for some weeks before writing this lyric. At this juncture they were encouraging me to write slightly less topical songs as the Spitting Image songs tended to be topical-ish rather than up to the minute topical.

Indeed Bill Dare, Giles Pilbrow and others at Spitting Image were most encouraging and (in the end) recommended me to NewsRevue, where the rest was history.

I guess I was still on the very low foothills of my comedy writing craft in February 1992. Unsurprisingly, neither Spitting Image nor NewsRevue used it. Frankly, I cannot imagine this lyric being used by anyone professionally, unless it was a particular fit for a spoof musical. It has one or two quite clever lines but certainly lacks laughs.

The lyric is based on 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover by Paul Simon – click here or below for a link to a YouTube, where someone has also helpfully added the Simon lyrics.

An infinitely better spoof than mine on this Paul Simon song is Carol Brown by Flight of the Conchords; “there must be fifty ways that lovers have left me…” – click here or below for that wonderful comedy song and video.

And finally, my modest lyrics from early February 1992:

50 WAYS TO SHOP YOUR LOVER

(sung to the tune of “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover”)

 

VERSE 1

 

“The problem is all inside your head”, she said, “It’s fair,

“To want to get even at the end of an affair;

“I’d like to help you in your struggle to get square,

“There must be 50 ways to shop your lover”.

She said,  “excuse me, but this point I must impress,

“With famous lovers you can always find redress;

“Pick up the telephone and notify the press,

“There must be 50 ways to shop your lover”.

50 ways to shop your lover.

 

CHORUS 1

 

Just call Private Eye, Guy, spill out the works, Dirk;

Unbutton your lip, Chip, I know it sounds kitsch.

Give out the scoops, troops, make sure they’re the hot poops;

Blow out the gaff, Taff, and ruin that bitch.

 

Just spill all the beans, Jean, go shoot the breeze, Denise;

Give out all the dirt, Flirt, the bastard won’t sleep.

Sing like a canary, Mary, say he’s really a fairy;

Sell a bum steer, dear, just nail that creep.

 

VERSE 2

 

She said, “you shouldn’t view loves ending as defeat,

“The story is valuable, you’ve landed on both feet”;

I said, “I appreciate that, but would you still repeat,

“About the 50 ways……….”

She said, “this conversation has really turned me on,

“Why don’t we sleep on it and talk some more at dawn?”

And then she kissed me, and I realised, her tape machine was on,

There must be 50 ways to shop your lover.

50 ways to shop your lover.

 

CHORUS TWO

 

Put a tap on the phone, Joan; record every date, Kate;

Make sure you’re both seen, Jean; and hardmouth that worm.

Bug the latrine, Katrine; that’s bound not to be clean;

Make sure you’ve got dabs, Babs; and make the slime squirm.

 

Just burgle the flat, Matt, Keep a line up your sleeve, Steve;

Break into the safe, Ralph, And lift all the muck.

Put a mike in your crutch, Dutch, you don’t need to record much;

Then sell on the dirt, Kirt, you’ll make mega bucks.

copyright © Ian Harris 1992

John Major Rock, Eventually NewsRevue, Originally 30 January 1992

An early lyric from the period when I was writing for fun and submitting to Spitting Image on the off chance. I seem to recall getting good feedback on this one. I have the correspondence somewhere for Ogblogging in the fullness of time.

This one eventually got a NewsRevue run or two, perhaps late 1992. It worked well in the show.

As I reread this lyric for the first time in decades (in May 2019), I must admit I smiled a few times and even laughed out loud at one or two lines. Although why I suggested at that time that cricket legend Don Bradman might have been dead I simply cannot fathom. He died in 2001.

JOHN MAJOR ROCK

(To the tune of “Crocodile Rock”)

I remember when I was young,
Me and Norma had so much fun;
Holding hands to Johann Strauss,
Watching films of Bambi and Mickey Mouse.
Oh the wild and wicked games we’d play,
We’d knock on doors and run away;
While the other kids were causing an affray,
We were home playing records by Mel Torme – wo

John Major is not a stranger,
To the wrong side of the track;
And here in Lambeth you quickly learn,
What it means to receive a smack.
Hey lordy mama its Friday night,
So Norma counts her pairs of tights,
And I read Wisden late into the night.

Na – nanananana – nanananana – nanananana,
Na – nanananana – nanananana – nanananana.

Well the years went by,
Don Bradman died,
Maggie got the bullet, tho’ I don’t know why;
She had always been so very good to me,
Making me the Chancellor and Foreign Secret’ry.
But I nearly fell through the floor,
When the papers said that I’m a bore;
Which is libel, but I’ve chosen to ignore,
A not inconsiderable case in law – wo

John Major is not a stranger,
To the wrong side of the track;
And here in Lambeth you quickly learn,
How to stab people in the back.
Hey lordy mama its Friday night,
And “Friday Night Is Music Night”,
It’s gone 10:30 when we turn out the light.

Na – nanananana – nanananana – nanananana,
Na – nanananana – nanananana – nanananana.

Below is a video of Elton John singing Crocodile Rock with the lyrics on the screen:

Cuba, Pre-NewsRevue Lyric, 22 December 1991

This lyric dates from that early period when I was writing just for fun and/or hoping to impress Spitting Image. This one certainly wasn’t going to impress the latter, as I fear it is more than a little one-dimensional.

I do quite like the Amnesty International inspired idea of writing to Fidel and Raúl Castro to complain about human rights abuses.

The closing line, “soon it will be others”, infers that I thought they were reaching the end of their line in 1991. Wrong.

If you want to know how Janie and I got on when we visited that country, in 2007, while it was still “governed” by those two brothers, click here or below.

Next up, my 1991 lyric:

CUBA (To the tune of "Cuba")

CHORUS 1

Cuba, we eat a lot of pasta,
Cuba, and smoke a lot of Ganja.

VERSE 1

We haven’t much money, we haven’t much oil,
Tobacco and poppies grow well on our soil.

CHORUS 2

Cuba, a good place for a Rasta,
Cuba, with reefers from Havana.

VERSE 2

This island is boring, there’s no place to go,
And six hour speeches from Fidel Castro.
He’s the one,
Does go on,
On and on,
And on and on.

CHORUS 3

Cuba, the people like a martyr.
Cuba, especially Che Guevara.

VERSE 3

The workers are friendly, the soldiers are cruel,
Write and complain to Fidel and Raul.

CHORUS 4

Cuba, is ruled by those two brothers,
Cuba, but soon it will be others!

To see and hear Cuba by The Gibson Brothers click here (where you can also read the lyrics in the information section) or just watch the embedded link below:

BCCI, Topical Lyric, 4 August 1991

Once I became ensconced with the NewsRevue writing team, I soon learnt that the use of the tune YMCA for a story about something with a four-letter acronym was gauche and inherently likely to be rejected.

But back in August 1991, when I was just starting to write humorous songs, mostly because they seemed to be popping into my head and made useful party pieces, I was unaware of such rules.

I’m not sure that Spitting Image was aware of those rules either, as I seem to recall that they especially liked this one, about the Bank of Credit and Commerce International (BCCI).

But of course Spitting Image didn’t actually use it. No-one used it, apart from me; down the pub and on the Notting Hill dinner party circuit, when that circuit was still suitably edgy.

On re-reading the song nearly 25 years later, I do still like some of the lyrics and think some of the lines are pretty good/funny. Sadly, the sentiments around money laundering, drug money, arms money, secrecy and the super-rich getting away (metaphorically and sometimes literally) with murder, still very much apply.

Here is a link to YMCA lyrics.

Click here or below for a link to the official music video of YMCA by the Village People.

Any resemblance between the name of the defunct, corrupt bank known as BCCI, and that of the manifestly pure Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), is purely coincidental.

♬ BCCI ♬

(To the tune of “YMCA”)

VERSE 1

Con man, there’s a place you can go,

Con man, when you’ve lifted some dough,

You can bank there, and I’m sure you will find,

Many friends with whom you’ve done time.

Con man, what’s that under you’re bed,

Con man, wads of steaming green bread,

Con man, I suggest that instead,

You invest with BCCI.

 

CHORUS 1

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

It’s not like Coutts, you don’t need to be posh,

It’s the place to launder your dosh.

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

You don’t have to be good, you don’t have to be straight,

You will get a huge interest rate.

 

VERSE 2

Gun man, you should not be pissed off,

Gun man, buy a Kalashnikov,

With a loan then, when you blow a head off,

You won’t need to cross-fire payments.

Gun man, what are you after next,

Gun man, buy a pound of Semtex,

With a card that, you are able to flex,

Buy your plastic with our plastic.

 

CHORUS 2

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

You can pay for your gun, you can make a new pal,

Called Saddam or Abu Nidal.

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

If guns for Iran isn’t quite what you want ya,

Can be debited with a Contra.

 

VERSE 3

Drug man, why don’t you take a cruise,

On the proceeds, of your sales of the blues,

To the Caymans, where the BCCI,

Will inject cash in your business.

Drug man, while you’re making your cash,

Drug man, selling kilos of hash,

You can invest, and it’s quite above board,

It’s all secret in Luxemborg.

 

CHORUS 3

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

They haven’t got decimal currency,

They’re still working in LSD,

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

It’s great to bank with the BCCI,

This is the place for your cash from cocaine,

But you won’t see your dosh again.

 

REPEAT CHORUSES

 

FADE