Month: 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.

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:

https://youtu.be/dYcFDFiddBM

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:

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:

 

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.