Category: Writing (my writing)

Michael Winner Eats It All, Newsrevue Lyric, 2 January 1996

This is a rather nasty lyric about the film director and latterly food critic, Michael Winner. I recall it went down very well indeed with the NewsRevue audience. Winner was a very unpopular fellow.

MICHAEL WINNER EATS IT ALL
(To the Tune of “The Winner Takes It All”)

 

VERSE 1

WINNER: I just want to talk even with my mouth full,
What a tasty dish, grub from my Death Wish;
I’ve laid all my cast and my films are dreadful,
So now what I do’s restaurant reviews.

FEMALES: Michael Winner eats it all, his bladder’s full of gall;
His snout deep in your trough, then he slags you off.

VERSE 2

WINNER: I dine at the best, thinking I belong there,
I make waiters tense when I take offence;
Then I make demands and I make a pong there,
Eating gourmet food, being bloody rude.

FEMALES: The rich take his advice, he always quotes the price,
He thinks a meal is bland unless it cost a grand;
Michael Winner eats it all, he’s almost fat as tall,
He’s simple and he’s plain, knows how to complain.

VERSE 3

WINNER: So tell me, shall we kiss [chorus might choose to vomit] while I’m masticating?
Have a slice of tongue, my joints been well hung;
In the Sunday Times, I’ll be castigating,
Tables badly laid, orders not obeyed.

FEMALES: The editors decide, to take this punter’s side,
Although his taste is kitsch and he’s much too rich;
Michael Winner eats it all and then can’t move at all,
He gets to try roast duck more often than most fuck.

VERSE 4

WINNER: I just want to talk even if it’s me you loathe,
You must understand I’ve come to take your hand; [takes a hand and eats it]
Don’t apologise, not to Jenny Seagrove,
She’s in my past tense movie violence.
ALL: But you see….Michael Winner eats it all, Michael Winner eats it all.
FEMALES: Michael Winner is a bastard, stuffs his face and gets well plastered
Michael Winner is a bastard, stuffs his face and gets well plastered
ALL: Michael Winner eats it all!!

Below is a video with Abba singing The Winner Takes It All with lyrics on the screen:

Letter/Fax To Jo Sandelson With Several Songs Attached, 19 December 1995

John Cowen and I had been introduced to the cartoonist Jo Sandelson (not sure by whom), with a view to collaboration over our “Metaphors For The Millennium” project, which withered on the vine/never happened. Private Eye much later introduced a “new/old sayings” idea along very similar lines; it still runs occasionally. Oh well.

Anyway, Jo was delightful and very hospitable. I tried to reciprocate with songs for her charitable Christmas activities.

Oscar Wilde is believed to have said that “the trouble with Socialism is that it takes too many evenings.”

When I think about pleasant evenings of the 18 December 1995 kind, I’d argue that the trouble with comedy is that we don’t spend enough evenings in each other’s company.

The lack of “Metaphors” did not seem to hold Jo back – it seems that she’s still  going strong at www.josandelson.com at the time of writing this (March 2017) – click here.

Jo Sandelson                              19 December 1995

(Putney address redacted)

Dear Jo

PICTURES AND SONGS

It was a pleasure to meet you last night. John and I both enjoyed the meeting and hope you did too. Has visual inspiration struck yet??

As promised, I attach some songs which might suit your festive gig for Crisis. Please feel free to use any/all/none of them at the handsome fee of “square root of diddly-squat”. If there are other subjects which you feel would be more appropriate, give me a call and I’ll see what I have – there are several hundred of these wretched things on my files now (most hopelessly out of date).

I apologise for the delay in faxing these to you, but I have been running around like an idiot from crack of dawn until late evening today and didn’t want to risk disturbing your slumbers by faxing late at night.

As we say in the Mets world; “nothing is certain but messed up faxes” so do call if this stuff doesn’t come through perfectly well first time. Basically I plan to be at home all day today (famous last words).

Thanks once again for your hospitality and happy holidays. I look forward to hearing from you and meeting you again in due course.

Yours sincerely

If by any chance there are NewsRevue lyric fans out there wondering which of my lyrics I faxed to Jo that day, the answer is:

  • Christmas Song – Version 2;
  • Closed To You;
  • Domestic Fuel;
  • Old Boys;
  • There’s No Business;
  • VE Day Medley;
  • I’ll Never Find Another Job;
  • Better Face.

When Will I See You At Z/Yen, Christmas Party Lyric, 7 December 1995

This lyric was written for the second seasonal gathering of Z/Yen, at the end of 1995, at the Paris House, Woburn (also the scene of our 1994 seasonal gathering).

I recall that Janie, Steve Taylor and I performed the piece. Janie got some outlandish wigs for us to wear. Try not to think about it too much. Fortunately for the world, no-one took photographs that evening.

Steve at Paris House the year before, 1994, without wig.

WHEN WILL I SEE YOU AT Z/YEN?
(To the Tune of “When Will I See You Again?”)

PROPS REQUIRED/DESIRED: Wigs (sorted), mobile phones, pieces of paper (minutes, memos), left overs on plates

INTRO

Oooooohhh, haaaaaaa,
Haaaaaaa, oooooohhh,
Precious memos.

VERSE 1

When will I see you at Z/Yen?
When will we share precious minutes?
Will we have debate for ever?
Will we still be macho (macho) and work the whole night through?

VERSE 2

When will I see you at Z/Yen?
When will our team eat together?
Are we at work or just friends?
Is this supper chicken or is it scrag end? (is this scrag end?)

MIDDLE EIGHT

When will I see you at Z/Yen? When will I see you at Z/Yen? When will I see you at Z/Yen?
Haaaaaaa, oooooohhh,
Precious motors.

VERSE THREE

When will I hear you at Z/Yen?
When will we share precious mobiles?
Are we in touch or alone?
CAN YOU ****-**** HEAR ME?? Chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh PHONE???

When will I chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?
(When will you stop asking so many ****-**** questions?)
When will I beeeeeeeeeep?

[ENDS]

Here are the Three Degrees singing When Will I See You Again:

…and here is a link to the original lyrics.

Christmas Song, NewsRevue Lyric, 26 November and 30 November 1995

I like this lyric but I’m not sure it got used much, if at all. I assigned the rights to ChildLine.

I wrote two versions in quick order – the second is better I think – here’s the second (I’ll place the first version right at the end for completist purposes):

CHRISTMAS SONG – VERSION 2
(To the Tune of “Mary’s Boy Child”)
VERSE 1

Long time ago in Kingston town,
A calypso star went wrong;
Harry Belafonte sang,
A putrid Christmas song.

CHORUS 1

“Merry Christmas” Slade does sing,
But no-one’s having fun;
And Cliff will try for ever more,
For Christmas number ones.

VERSE 2

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer had,
A very shiny nose and fur;
Frosty snowman cut a disc,
With Oasis and with Blur.

CHORUS 2

Santa Claus has come to town,
To get on all our tits;
And man must listen ever more,
To ghastly Christmas hits.

OUTRO

Preach goodwill one day each year,
Pretend we’re all not gits;
And charities will ever more,
Launch putrid Christmas hits.

Here is Harry Belafonte singing Mary’s Boy Child with the lyrics:

Here’s the first version of my lyric:

CHRISTMAS SONG
(To the Tune of “Mary’s Boy Child”)
VERSE 1

Long time ago in Kingston town,
A calypso star went wrong;
Harry Belafonte sang,
A putrid Christmas song.

CHORUS 1

“Merry Christmas” Slade does sing,
But no-one’s having fun;
And man will bill for ever more,
A Christmas number one.

VERSE 2

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer had,
An extremely shiny nose;
Frosty snowman cut a disc,
With Seal and Axil Rose.

CHORUS 2

Santa Claus has come to town,
To get on all our tits;
And man must listen ever more,
To ghastly Christmas hits.

I even had another go with it in December 1996:

CHRISTMAS SONG – 1996
(To the Tune of “Mary’s Boy Child”)

VERSE 1

Long time ago in Kingston town,
A calypso star went wrong;
Harry Belafonte sang,
A putrid Christmas song.

CHORUS 1

(Ding dong ding dong)
“Merry Christmas” Slade does sing,
But no-one’s having fun;
And Cliff will try for ever more,
For Christmas number ones.
(Funk it up now)

VERSE 2

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer had,
A shiny nose and shiny fur;
Frosty snowman cut a disc,
With Oasis and with Blur.

CHORUS 2

(Ding dong ding dong)
Santa Claus has come to town,
To get on all our tits;
And man must listen ever more,
To ghastly Christmas hits.

OUTRO

Preach goodwill one day each year,
Pretend we’re all not gits;
And charities will ever more,
Launch putrid Christmas hits.

Claire, NewsRevue Lyric, 29 November 1995

This one is about Claire Short, who presumably got mixed up in one of those cannabis stories.

I took the opportunity to take the piss out of politicians and our loony laws on such matters.

Not sure if it was ever used. A few good lines, though (in the lyric, not a reference to some other drugs, get a grip, reader).

Gosh, even by November 1995, I still couldn’t spell Blair.

CLAIRE
(To the Tune of “Clair”)

VERSE 1

Claire,
You said you’d support Tony Blaire,
But blew it by toking hot air,
It’s happened before,
He wonders why you’re so
Short,
It seems that you’ll pay for a snort,
Of Lebanese Red, not Tawny Port,
You’ve taken a hit,
For talking ’bout shit, cos then,
You were pounced on by Tony’s men,
Tho you’re less outspoken than Tony Benn;
Pushing for dope is a sure way that you’ll fail,
So take your lead from Bill Clinton then you’ll never inhale,
That air, Claire.

VERSE 2

Claire,
You’ve sent Tony deep into prayer,
By talking of marijuan-air
That’s not a good rhyme,
And not a good crime so why
Do most MP’s feel obliged to lie?
I’d bet that most of them have had a try,
Privately thinking it’s OK to take grass,
But in the public domain they have to talk from their arse….
-holes, Claire, Claire.

(Don’t Bogart that point, Claire).

You might enjoy the tune and lyric of Clair by Gilbert O’Sullivan for this one.

 

Letter To Jenny Roche Re NewsRevue Material, 28 November 1995

I don’t think anything came of this – at least not financially. Given the tone of my letter, I expected little.

I have little/no recollection of this correspondence.  I imagine it was THIS Jenny Roche – click here. Heck, this piece might help Jenny to get in touch again through Ogblog.

Jenny Roche                             28 November 1995

(Huyton Address Redacted)
Dear Jenny

MATERIAL

Apologies for the delay in getting some material to you, but I hope the quality and quantity of this submission makes up for the delay. I write regularly for News Revue, specialising almost exclusively in songs.

In the absence of more details about what you are looking for, I hope this pack provides some stuff of use to you. Please feel free to request specific items, changes or recordings of the original songs which are being parodied.

Please note that some of the songs show charities as copyright holders. I do this in order to make tax free contributions to my favourite charities. If you choose to use a charity owned song, please send the money direct to the charity (I can provide addresses if you don’t have them). As you reckon that the dosh will be light for the time being, please give priority to the charities.

Please feel free to get in touch any time (see myriad of methods above).

Yours sincerely

Ian Harris

Encs.

The Tax Cuts Are The Weakest, NewsRevue Lyric, 27 November 1995

Almost certainly unused, this feels like a pun on a song title stretched beyond reason. I’m not even sure what I was really trying to say with this one.

THE TAX CUTS ARE THE WEAKEST
(To the Tune of “The First Cut is the Deepest”)
VERSE 1 – KEN CLARKE

I would have levied your hearts and your souls,
But we’ve fallen behind in the polls;
And since I’ve taken almost all that you’ve got,
This time around I’ll hand it back again,
Voters, I’ll hand it back again, but you know…….

CHORUS 1

Our tax cuts are the weakest,
(Surely you know)
Our tax cuts are the weakest;
Cos when it comes to pleasing people we’re cursed,
So when it comes to lower tax, we’re first,
But once we’re back in number ten it’s reversed,
(That’s how it is)
Our tax cuts are the weakest,
(Surely you know)
Our tax cuts are the weakest.

VERSE 2 – KEN CLARKE

I still want you fiscally,
So I’ll stump up fag and booze duty,
And sneak some extra dosh through VAT,
With half a chance I’d tax and spend again,
Voters, I’ll tax and spend again, cos you know…..
Ooohhh ooohhh

CHORUS 2

Our tax cuts are the meanest,
(Surely you know)
Our tax cuts are the meanest;
And when it comes to help the needy we’re worst,
Cos looking after number one comes first,
That’s why we’re squeezing you pip-squeaks ’til you burst,
(That’s how it is)
Our tax cuts are the meanest,
(Stuff Tony Blaire)
Our tax cuts are the weakest,
(Load of hot air)
OUR TAX CUTS ARE THE WEAKEST!!!

Here is Cat Stevens singing The First Cut Is The Deepest. Load YouTube to read lyrics in the text area beneath:

 

Greenpeace, NewsRevue Lyric, Probably Unused, 26 November 1995

This one must be a slightly tinkered version of one I submitted in October. I don’t think it was ever used. Presumably Greenpeace were trying to stop nuclear tests at that time. A few good puns in there…

…and I can play Greensleeves on my baroq-ulele – I might give this one a go now.

GREENPEACE
(To the Tune of “Greensleeves”)
VERSE 1

As I was watching the forests fail,
And collecting water up in my pail;
I thought I’d save the Bikini Whale,
So I signed up a contract with Greenpeace.

CHORUS 1

Greenpeace is an Irish cause,
Cos they said “Muroa Atoll, Atoll”,
Although I had never sailed before,
I took charge of a boat name of Greenpeace.

VERSE 2

As I was sailing the southern seas,
A frogman got on beside of me,
He said “zis vessel aaass now been seized”,
And he made the sea boil round the Greenpeace.

CHORUS 2

Greenpeace were a mite upset,
Cos I lost their boat in his fishing net,
I’m cold and scared and I’m soaking wet,
And don’t know why I’ve now got these green sleeves.

VERSE 3

Then Greenpeace took me to task in spite,
And their weird tribunals went on all night,
If I had wanted a frigging fight,
I’d have signed for the French Foreign Legion.
(Shows arm) I’ve got a French foreign lesion on this arm and it’s getting bigger.

CHORUS 3

Greenpeace, I’ve now made my mark,
And my heads both glow when I’m in the dark;
I pee for laser shows in the park,
Which is why my nickname now is Green Piss.

Here is a version of Greensleeves with some Tudor-sounding lyrics:

The Shit Of Araby, NewsRevue Lyric, 26 November 1995

This lyric did nicely, if I recall correctly. Very performable.

I am delighted to report that Jonathan Aitken did not get away with his crimes, despite the outcome inferred by the lyric.

THE SHIT OF ARABY
(To the Tune of “The Sheikh of Araby”)
VERSE 1 – JONATHAN AITKEN

I’m the shit of Araby,
A right fat cat Tory;
Jon Aitken is my name,
Gun running is my game.

When I meet those Saudi gits,
They put me in the Ritz;
With cars and jewellery,
Cos they want my weaponry.

MIDDLE EIGHT – THE PRESS

He’s the shit of Araby,
And when he leaves the Treasury,
You should see him follow sheikhs around;
That’s bad.
Even though he’s ripped off half the Nation,
He’ll still sue for defamation,
Guardian and World in Action found.

AITKEN: I’m a cad;

When he’s laying down to sleep,
He’s counting guns instead of sheep;
From his pockets,
Arms and rockets sprout;
Who’s counting?
He knows vital statistics,
Like girls with huge ballistics
He’s a shit who knows arms dealing inside out.

OUTRO – AITKEN

I’ll sue the media liberally,
Cos I’m the Chief of Treasury;
And if I treat the judge nicely (winks),
I’m sure the court will side with me.

Here is a YouTube of Spike Jones and His City Slickers version, including the “patter” section parodied above:

Here is a link to the lyrics, including the patter verse.

I also found a wonderful video version of Spike Jones & His City Slickers performing this number, but without the patter – amazing vid though, Spike Jones himself seen on percussion.

I wrote an update 24 June 1997:

THE SHIT OF ARABY – 1997 REMIX
(To the Tune of “The Sheikh of Araby”)

 

VERSE 1 – JONATHAN AITKEN

I’m the shit of Araby,
A right fat cat Tory;
Jon Aitken is my name,
Gun running is my game.

When I meet those Saudi gits,
They put me in the Ritz;
With cars and jewellery,
Cos they want my weaponry.

MIDDLE EIGHT – THE PRESS

He’s the shit of Araby,
And Aitken left the Treasury,
Just to follow gun-crazed sheikhs around;
That’s bad.
Even though he ripped off half the Nation,
He still sued for defamation,
Guardian and World in Action found.

AITKEN: I’m a cad;

When he’s laying down to sleep,
He’s counting guns instead of sheep;
From his pockets,
Arms and rockets sprout;
Who’s counting?
He knows vital statistics,
Like girls with huge ballistics
He’s a shit who knows arms dealing inside out.

OUTRO – AITKEN

I sued the media liberally,
I thought the judge would side with me;
But lost my seat on the Privy;
And I’ll go down for perjury.

 

Ebola, NewsRevue Lyric, 26 November 1995

Almost certainly unused, in too bad taste even for NewsRevue.

Some good lines in it though.

Postscript: false memory. My submission letter of 26 November 1995 indicates that this one had been used 7+ times – i.e. in more than one run; perhaps several.

My cata-log indicates that it was originally written on 16 May 1995.

So not too bad taste for NewsRevue – not in the slightest. Whatever was I thinking when I wrote the above note?

EBOLA
(Really Sick Quickie to the Tune of “Maria”)

VERSE 1

Ebola,
They’ve just found a germ named Ebola;
It’s really rather vile,
It makes you throw up blood,
And bile.

VERSE 2

Zaire,
I’m glad I’m not there and I’m here;
The thought of it’s as sick,
As Michael Howard’s prick,
And piles.

MIDDLE EIGHT

Ebola,
Say it loud and Kinshasa’s in turmoil,
Say it soft, and its a brand of corn oil.

OUTRO

Mazola,
Won’t go through you as fast as,
Ebola.

Maria from West Side Story is a nice song in its own right: