The papers were full of the story of actress Yasmine Gibson swanning off to the Costa del Sol, leaving her daughter Gemma home alone.
This link term – click here – finds what little can still be found on-line on the news story. Click here for an interesting take on the story, by Lynn Barber, which suggests that the tabloid press intervention might have done more harm than good. Even 25 years ago this stuff about press freedom and intrusion was debated.
As I write 25 years later, I recalled my lyric and the performance of it far more vividly than the news story itself. Victoria Jeffrey was the actress who performed it in NewsRevue and I remember her slovenly-looking, sangria-swilling, belting performance, as the mother, vividly. It went down a storm.
Here’s the lyric. Strong lyric, but weak ending – perhaps the cast improved on that.
I DON’T CARE ‘BOUT MY BABY
(To the Tune of “Take Good Care Of My Baby”)
INTRO – YASMINE
My tears are falling cos the papers cause me pain,
But tho’ they’ve really hurt me so, I’m glad I’m here boozing in Spain.
CHORUS 1 – STILL YASMINE
I don’t care ’bout my baby, I’m not as kind as mums should be;
The tabloids say I fail her, some loony may impale her,
While I’m out quaffing G&T.
CHORUS 2 – LITTLE JEMMA
I don’t care if my mummy, will ever reappear from Spain;
Newspapers all tell fibs on, the state of Jemma Gibson,
While mum is knocking back Champagne.
MIDDLE BIT 1 – STILL LITTLE JEMMA
Once up a time, my freedom wasn’t crime,
Now mum has flown, the papers say I’m home alone, so
CHORUS 3 – YET MORE LITTLE JEMMA
I’m in care since my mummy, has left me in the house for weeks;
I entertained all my friends, held parties on the weekends,
That’s stopped now we’ve been shopped by tabloid sneaks.
CHORUS 4 – BACK TO YASMINE
I don’t care ’bout my baby, I like to go out for some fun;
I know I’m not a has-been, you’ve now all heard of Yasmine,
Front page of Mirror, Star and Sun.
MIDDLE BIT 2 – STILL YASMINE AGAIN
My good name’s been stained, since little Jemma claimed,
Reckless abandon, and I don’t have a leg to stand on, cos
CHORUS 5 – YASMINE CONCLUDES
I don’t care ’bout my baby, but she’s a cow to grass on me;
I’ll keep her in the kitchen, one day I’ll do that bitch in,
And eat my baby up whole for tea.
Here’s a charming video of Bobby Vee singing “Take Good Care Of My Baby” with a gratuitous crowd of young women in short skirts clapping out of sync with each other and even more out of sync with the beat of the tune. Honestly my dad’s home vids back then (c1961) were better quality cinematography than this:
Also, here is a link to Carole King’s charming lyrics to Take Good Care Of My Baby.
I wrote a Version 2 of this lyric in August 1993 for a chorus of slovenly holiday-making mothers:
WE DON’T CARE ‘BOUT OUR BABIES
(To the Tune of “Take Good Care Of My Baby”)
INTRO – NEGLIGENT MOTHERS
Our tears are falling cos the papers cause us pain,
But tho’ they’ve really hurt us so, we’re glad we’re here boozing in Spain.
VERSE 1 – NEGLIGENT MOTHERS
We don’t care ’bout our babies, we’re not as kind as mums should be;
The tabloids say we fail ’em, some loony may impale ’em,
While we’re out quaffing G&T.
VERSE 2 – SPROGS
We don’t care if our mummies, will ever reappear from Spain;
We don’t think they are sinful, we too shall have a skin full,
While they’re out knocking back Champagne.
Once up a time, our freedom wasn’t crime,
Now they have flown, the papers say we’re home alone, so
We’re in care since our mummies, have left us in the house for weeks;
We entertained all our friends, held parties on the weekends,
That’s stopped now we’ve been shopped by tabloid sneaks.
VERSE 3 – BACK TO THE EVIL MUMS
We don’t care ’bout our babies, we like to get away for fun;
Newspapers all are stalking, the evil mums of Dorking,
Front page of Mirror, Star and Sun.
Our good names are stained, since Britain’s papers claimed,
Reckless abandon, and we don’t have a leg to stand on, cos
We don’t care ’bout our babies, but we’re not as bad as all that,
Those kids had us arrested, ‘tho’ they were not molested,
Once we get out again we’ll kill those brats.