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:

Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead by Tom Stoppard, Lyttelton Theatre, 30 December 1995

I liked this more than Janie did. I thought it was a very good production and I have long had an affection for the play.

Janie sees this as an example of Tom Stoppard being “a bit too clever for his own good”, a view I can understand but with which I don’t agree. Let’s just say that Janie does not remember this fondly.

Amazing cast, with Adrian Scarborough & Simon Russell Beale in the eponymous roles. Here is the Theatricalia entry for this one.

Michael Billington is with Janie on the play and with me on the production:

Billington on RosencrantzBillington on Rosencrantz Sat, Dec 16, 1995 – 27 · The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com

Michael Coveney strangely liked the play but not so much the production.

Sun, Dec 17, 1995 – 60 · The Observer (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com

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.

Two Weekends In Bristol, Hilary’s 40th, 4 to 5 March, Then A Seasonal Visit 9 to 10 December 1995

Judging by the copious notes in Janie’s diary about the March visit, we took The Duchess (Pauline) with us on that occasion and there were lengthy negotiations about the choice of hotel.

My guess is that swimming pool was a must but the price would have had to be right for Pauline (eliminating the grander Swallow), so we ended up at The Marriot City Centre.

It can’t have been too bad because Janie and I stayed there again when we went in December. Only problem is parking in the City Centre and being the wrong side of Bristol really for Stoke Bishop.

Anyway, the first visit must have been for Hilary’s (the twins’ big sister’s) 40th, which I think was a family affair. I’m pretty sure Tony & Phillie didn’t come – we wouldn’t have gone to see them in Germany just a few weeks earlier if we had been due to see them in March.

I’m pretty sure the Duchess didn’t join us when we visited again in December; I think even by then the “routine” was that we would collect Pauline’s Christmas present and deliver it to her.

Again the diary is light on detail, other than the clear “note to self” in Janie’s diary to remember Hil’s foot stool. It probably didn’t look like the public domain image below.

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

DeepAI tries to replicate the most memorable image of the night

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.

However, DeepAI has had a go at revisioning the event and come up with the following:

Robo-Steve, Janie-Bot & Avatar-Ian

 

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: