I think this artefact speaks for itself. All of the lyrics listed are up or will go up in the fullness of time.
Amipro tables don’t convert into anything, so I have tried to turn the nice neat table thingie into a legible list. Best efforts blah blah.
Denise Thomson/Orita
News Revue
LIST OF SONGS SUBMITTED AND TAPE TRACK LISTING
APRIL-MAY 1995 RUN
Dear Denise
This starter pack consists of songs currently in the show but mainly previously unperformed ones. If you want me to work on a rewrite of an old chestnut of mine that you might have uncovered in the archive, just let me know.
Call me and let me know if you are short of any subjects or styles and I shall try to oblige. Also, if any of these need a bit of rewrite then I am happy to change them on request.
Good luck and I look forward to seeing you soon.
Song Title/Original Title/Artist on Tape
Aprox. No. of weeks performed: 7+ 4-6 1-3 New
side 1
the shit of araby/the sheik of araby/spike jones – New
There’s a “delicacies shopping list” to die for on the Maundy Thursday page of Janie’s diary, with prosciutto ham, guinea fowl breasts and Aberdeen Angus fillet all listed next to “Harvey Nics” opening times. Back then Janie used the butchers there.
On the evening of Good Friday, I went to my parents’ house for Pesach sedar night, which Janie skipped that year. Janie acquired more of a taste for such events than me by the end of my parents’ lives, but at that time, Janie wanted some well-earned rest instead and who could blame her.
We played tennis on the Saturday morning – the first reference to playing that year. Janie booked Court 8 it says.
Court 4 of Lammas Park, as was, more than 25 years later
Janie’s diary says we had dinner at Noughts & Crosses on the Saturday evening, although I am struggling to work out when we were supposed to eat all that yummy grub she brought back from Harvey Knickers. I suppose one of the meals was Thursday night and one intended for the Monday.
Sunday dinner at The Mainellis (or accurately at that time I should say Michael Mainelli & Elisabeth Reuss). This event was at Elisabeth’s place in Chiswick/Gunnersbury. It was possibly revenge…I mean reciprocation…for the Wild Boar evening a couple of months earlier:
Elisabeth proudly served us sauerbraten, a German national dish. We had a very pleasant evening and of course sank more-than-reasonable quantities of alcohol; it would have been churlish of us as guests to do otherwise.
Both Janie and I struggled to digest all of that in the night. What I didn’t realise was that my “almost to be expected” digestive struggle was as nothing compared with the pain Janie was feeling.
We called the doctor, who suggested that she brave out what was probably just over-indulgence or food poisoning. Once Janie was doubled with pain, we called the doctor again and a locum came to Sandall Close to see her. He diagnosed food poisoning, “which can be very painful” and gave her a pain-killing shot.
The pain-killing shot provided Janie with some temporary relief. But once that shot wore off and she was doubled over again in agonising pain, I called for an ambulance.
Which was just as well.
Because it transpired that Janie had pancreatitis resulting from a gall stone getting trapped in her pancreatic duct. Her gall bladder was over-flowing with stones. Just the thought of it is agonisingly painful.
The A&E doctors seemed very young and they gave us reassurance in the way that only well-trained, following all the protocols doctors can.
They told us that they thought they had the matter under control and that most people of Janie’s age and health (normally very good) would recover fully from the ordeal…but that pancreatitis is an extremely dangerous and serious condition so it was possible that Janie wouldn’t survive.
I had driven to the hospital in my own car, behind the ambulance, as advised by the ambulance crew. I drove back to Sandall Close alone in the early hours of the Tuesday morning. I put on the car radio for that short journey. The DJ was playing Miserlou by Dick Dale & His Del-Tones on the radio…
…well it was 1995 when Pulp Fiction was all the rage. I can no longer hear that tune without thinking of that lonely drive home.
SPOILER ALERT! Janie didn’t die. In fact, she recovered well and quickly.
A fortnight later, she had her gall bladder removed on the Monday to ensure that no such episode could happen again. She had the stitches removed on the Saturday and we played tennis the next day and the day after that, which was Bank Holiday Monday.
Tough cookie, is Janie. But I haven’t noticed her choosing to eat sauerbraten again since that Easter weekend.
I don’t think this got used much, if at all. Slow ones need to be so spot on, as the laughs still need to come fast enough.
Good lyric, though, worth the read at least for a few of the lines. Talking of “read”, the line about Lou Reed’s demise is far more topical now (2017) than it was in 1995.
POSY BAND
(To the Tune of “Perfect Day”)
VERSE 1
Just a posy band,
They’re known as Duran Duran,
Just like Barbarella’s man,
In that flick.
Such a posy band,
They wear New Romantic shoes,
Gauche tunics and weird hairdos,
Makes us sick.
CHORUS 1
Cos they’re a pretentious band,
We thought at last they had gone;
Bog off Duran Duran,
With that git Simon Le Bon,
Don’t you hate that Simon Le Bon,
VERSE 2
Just a pompous band,
How come they are still at large?
It’s years since we’ve seen Visage,
Or Japan.
Such a painful band,
Should’ve died out like Frankie Valli,
More stuck up than Spandau Ballet,
That Duran (Duran).
CHORUS 2
And it’s such a putrid disk,
Sung without zeal really slow;
It’s an appalling disk,
With a ghastly video,
Don’t you wish those arseholes would go.
OUTRO
You’ll make Lou Reed turn in his grave;
(GIT 1: I didn’t realise Lou Reed was dead.)
(GIT 2: Well, effectively dead.)
(GIT 3: Is now.)
You’ll make Lou Reed turn in his grave.
Here is Lou Reed rendering the wonderful song, Perfect Day, with lyrics in the description:
I didn’t have a television set between 1990 and 1999, so I probably wasn’t the most suitable person to write a critique lyric on the BBC.
There are one or two good ideas in there, not least the muddle you can get into when trying to be even-handed, but it’s unsurprising that this lyric was, as far as I know, never used.
Bits could be recycled still, though…
BBC
(To the Tune of “ABC”)
VERSE 1
Do, do, do, do-do-do, do, do, do, do-do-do,
We pissed off Mr Aitken,
Which we’ve never, never done before;
We simply said that he’s paid by Mr Al Fayed,
And he made on Iran’s last war.
But now we’re duty bound to show you {show you, show you}
That we are unbiased {we cannot be biased}
There’s graft in Labour too,
We’ll also show the sleazy things that the Liberals do..
CHORUS 1
BBC, we offer neutrality,
We’ll show it repeatedly, one-two-three, times to see, sleaze equably.
BBC, Charge a big licence fee,
Show a repeat or three, BBC, That’s how great TV can be.
MIDDLE EIGHT
Tories trail dismally, blame the BBC,
Alan Yentob knows the way to sort it out,
Suppress half of the programmes and just watch the talent fleeing out.
VERSE 2
FROM RIGHT: The Tories are in disarray,
FROM LEFT So the Labour party must be split;
FROM RIGHT: And now John Major takes the rap, the public say he’s crap,
FROM LEFT: So Tony Blair must be a heap of shit.
ALL: Now old John Birt is goanna show you {show you, show you},
How to make it pay {make a cut a day};
He’ll bump up licence fees,
And sack broadcasters who have got the nerve to disagree.
CHORUS 2
BBC {it’s easy}, Broadcast unbiasedly {we report unbiasedly},
Else we get mad Tories, Crazily, claiming we’re to the left of C.
BBC {it’s easy}, It’s simply accountancy {it’s just counting beans you see},
Less creativity, BBC, And that’s the state of our TV.
And it’s not the way it has to be,
BBC, crap TV!!!!
Then it dawned on me; Harold sent me a recording of Marion Ryan singing the song, so the second version must be my transcription of their tweaked version of the lyric.
It also dawned on me that I might even find the recording somewhere…
…and so I did.
So here is Marion Ryan singing Arthur:
…and here is their slightly tweaked version of the lyric.
ARTHUR
(To the Tune of “Laura”)
VERSE 1
Arthur,
Mr Crames who is sixty now,
Share deals, they just rise, never fall;
Self made, warm-hearted and from Bear Stearns,
But won’t say what he earns,
At all;
VERSE 2
You won’t see Arthur,
On the plane that is passing through,
He likes, beach and pool to be near;
He has the very best meals for you,
So for Arthur,
Let’s all give a big cheer.
…and here (again) is Sinatra singing Laura. Sadly no recording of him singing Arthur:
Presumably Jamie Blandford got himself into the news a fair bit that year. I cover quite a lot of ground in this lyric. Perhaps too much.
MEET ME IN THE MANSION
(To the Tune of “Meet Me on the Corner”)
VERSE 1
THE LAW: Hey Jamie Blanford, say, how have you been,
Tell me, have you Coke you can snort?
We came along, to grab you by the shlong,
And to seize the blow you’ve not bought.
TAXI DRIVER: You and your raids, on the Chemists and maids,
You’re a lecher, junkie and ponce;
You jump out and run while my meter’s still on,
When in the back of my taxi once.
CHORUS 1
JAMIE: Meet me in the mansion,
When the drugs are passing through,
And I’ll be there, inhaling herbal air;
THE LAW: We’ll check up your arse,
And if we find a trace of grass,
Then your conviction will be fair.
VERSE 2
TAXI DRIVER: O, Marquis Blanford, now see what you’ve done,
You’re a convict taking the stand;
You claim you’re hung up, but you should be strung up,
Only language that you’d understand.
CHORUS 2
JAMIE: Meet me in the mansion,
When the Coke is passing through,
They’ll blow the place, to try and crack the case;
THE LAW: Jamie tried to make,
A pile by swiping passing flake,
Once more this Burks Peer’s in disgrace.
I like Meet Me On The Corner – one of my early efforts on the baritone uke too. Here is the original Lindisfarne version with lyrics:
Midnight Train To Georgia is a great song, but it does not lend itself to comedy lyrics. I should have learnt my lesson a couple of years earlier with my “Midnight Plane To Jordan” lyric.
It also wasn’t the best idea to return to the subject of state execution, although my very first success in NewsRevue, “California Here I Go”, was on that subject.
Mercifully, the following lyric, which makes some excellent points but is low on laughs (to say the least), was never used.
ELECTRIC CHAIR IN GEORGIA
(To the Tune of “Midnight Train To Georgia”)
VERSE 1
England proved too much for Ingram {too much for Ingram, he had to leave here},
So he left Old Blighty’s shores decades ago, oh-oh,
{He said he’s goin’} So he went to find a land {went to find a land}
Ohhh-ohhh where the gun cannot be banned,
But in the State’s he’s found, he too can be canned.
CHORUS 1
He’s leavin’ {leavin’} on that midnight chair in Georgia,
{Leavin by electric chair, yeh};
So he’s now about to find {now about to find},
Eye for an eye leaves justice blind,
{If his appeal’s not compliant , his lawyer better find another client}
Are fiends electric? {we know they are}
In electric chairs in Georgia {shocking things, electric chairs, ssshhhwwwiiittt-bang}
He must be desperate as hell {desperate as hell},
Approaching John Major’s kind.
{Poor sod has gone half out of his mind}
VERSE 2
Ingram’s dreamin’ {dreamin’} ohhh that John Major takes his side,
{it’s suicide, but Nick might as well try}
And he’ll soon find out the hard way, dreams don’t always come true,
{Major’s plea may yet come through, pigs fly, Nick’s screwed}
So he’s written to his folks {ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh}
And to law reformer blokes {ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh}
He is mighty eloquent for an irredeemable miscreant,
Oh yes he is, but he’s still fucked.
CHORUS 2
Because he’s leavin’ {leavin’} by electric chair in Georgia,
{Leavin by electric chair, oh yeh}
So he’s goin’ to have some jolts {goin’ to have some jolts}
Of several thousand volts
{If you think that this song is shlock, it’s not as nasty as Nick Ingram’s shock}
He’ll write his story {best seller stuff}
About that ‘lectric chair in Georgia {the royalty’s a static charge, ssshhhwwwiiittt-bang}
If he’d been a football star {with OJ’s charisma}
He’d live despite all his faults.
Trip out with Sunil – went to Galle and saw Dutch museum/shop and market (not much to buy).
Galle laceGalle Market
Then on to Hikkaduwa for ill-fated very choppy coral trip for snorkeling. I felt sick on boat and Jane felt sick in the sea.
That ghastly snorkeling trip really does need to be explained. There were two problems with it. Firstly, it really was too choppy for snorkeling – even very experienced swimmers, who might have been up for the swimming challenge if mad enough, would have agreed that it was simply too choppy to see anything worthwhile with the snorkel.
The second problem was our mad boatman, who seemed especially keen to surf the waves and make the boat trip as “exciting” as possible. I suppose Hikkaduwa is surf territory, but I thought he was truly mad and dangerous. I was so unnerved by him, not least him seeming to turn back for more when we asked him to take us back to the shore, I abandoned the boat and swam for it, to ensure that he followed me back. Probably not the safest idea I have ever had.
Washed and dried off – then on to New Moonbeam restaurant for deviled crab – then look round shops.
Sunil & Daisy, who looks pretty-much revived by the Hikkaduwa crabYes, Ged revives quickly too when there’s Hikkaduwa crab to be had
Went on to turtle hatchery and then home.
Truly out of my comfort zone with a big turtle, although i look surprisingly comfyJanie looks less sure with her albino turtleDaisy gives the baby turtles some sage advice afore they go
Practised snorkeling some more in the pool.
Then went to seafood barbecue in evening – excellent meal .
Part Two of our two-part photo album for this Sri Lanka trip can be viewed through the flickr link below – there are 75 photos therein:
Real gluttons for photo punishment can see raw scans of all 430 photos we took unedited and unlabelled here:
