This lyric ran and ran in NewsRevue in the second half of 1992 and was also recorded by Ben Murphy the following year (recording below).
It was still early in my NewsRevue “career” so I have a few very clear memories about the writing and initial performing of it.
The first memory is that the Woody and Mia rift story broke early in the week and the song popped into my head very quickly. I recall jumping in the car and dropping a lyric sheet and cassette at the Canal Cafe Theatre, probably on that very (Tuesday) morning.
I also recall Jonny Hurst confronting me on the Thursday evening, when the song was first performed, because he had also used the rhyme “Manhattan…shat on” (in a lyric that resembled Maria from West Side Story); Jonny found it hard to believe that I might independently have had the same thought. Fortunately I had a good evidence trail that my lyric had been submitted independently and indeed earlier than his; Jonny not only went on to become the chant laureate but he is also a lawyer!
Here is my lyric:
MAMA MIA FARROW
(A Song for Mia Farrow, Woody Allen and Sprogs To the Tune of “Mama Mia”)
VERSE 1
MIA:Woody’s cheated on me since I don’t know when,
WOODY:I like Mia’s daughters once they’re nine or ten;
MIA:Look at him pry at them lustily,
WOODY:I’m goanna try to get custody,
I have thought,
I might fancy a ward of court;
MIA:God you look a bit like Bernard Levin,
WOODY:Sling your hook go back to Andre Previn.
CHORUS 1
SPROGS:Wo oh oh oh, Mama Mia, here they go again,
My my, listen how they bicker;
Mama Mia, hear them blow again,
My my, like one of his flickers.
WOODY:Central Park came between us,
MIA:He has a massive – genius,
SPROGS:Why why, do they have to argue so?
Mama Mia, now we really know,
Why you’re name is still Mia Farrow.
VERSE 2
WOODY:I’ve been dating Soon-Yi and we’re both having fun,
MIA:You’re an aging loony and she’s just twenty-one;
WOODY:I’m sorry I’ve broken etiquette,
MIA:You’ll go to gaol in Connecticut,
Yankee States,
Won’t allow you to have young mates;
WOODY:Our love tryst should have been in Tennessee,
MIA:Analyst is who you should go and see.
CHORUS 2
SPROGS:Wo oh oh oh, Mama Mia, here they go again,
My my, like the film Manhattan,
Mama Mia, hear them blow again,
Mia, thinks she has been shat on;
WOODY:We both shunned matrimony,
MIA:But still found acrimony,
SPROGS:Why why does this have to carry on?
Mama Mia now he has done wrong,
Shove him up his own Orgasmatron.
Here is Ben Murphy’s recording of the lyric:
And just in case you want to see Abba singing Mamma Mia, here is a vid:
Or if you’d sooner see the Abba lyrics:
Postscript: I have subsequently noticed that my creative process is captured on my diary page for 18 August 1992:
Ossobuco – picture by Stu Spivack via Wikipedia Commons
Since I published my “25th anniversary of meeting Janie” piece last week, I have had, literally, several people ask me how Janie and I ever got it together after she refused to give me her telephone number the first time we met.
The answer, of course, is “ossobuco”.
It happened like this.
After Janie’s refusal to give me her telephone number, I simply assumed that she wasn’t interested at all and I got on with my next week. My next week looked like this.
My guess is that I was actually out every evening that week apart from the Monday – I probably had impromptu drinks/food with work colleagues Thursday and Friday evening.
Saturday evening I can see was a dinner with Caroline at the Pavilion in Poland Street. This will have been her birthday bash on the eve of that landmark day. (Happy birthday, Caroline, if by chance you read this piece on the day I post it).
I have had an exchange of messages with Caroline to establish what happened – I’m sure there were quite a few of us there at The Pavilion that evening. She replies:
I have to say that with the help of your diary your memory is much better than mine. The restaurant is in fact exactly the same now as then. It was a local from when I was working at the Burton group. Vasco and Piero ran it all those years ago. The food was always excellent. The decor was very pink! It’s amazing how quickly 25 years go.
I’m not sure what I ate at the Pavilion but I am sure that it was an Italian dish but not ossobuco.
The other thing I remember clearly, although the diary is silent on this matter, is that I went out for an impromptu lunch on the Sunday with Annalisa. We went to Lee Fook on Westbourne Grove, a Chinese restaurant near my flat which was very much one of my favourites at the time. The excellent chef there was named Ringo, I remember that wonderful fact too.
If that review ever bites the dust on the ES site, I’ve saved the Wayback machine the trouble on this one by scraping it here.
In short, by mid-afternoon I had eaten my fill that weekend and ambled home after lunch.
The telephone was ringing off the hook as I walked through the door.
I should point out, at this juncture, that, in those days, I had no answering machine for my phone. No cellphone either. Just the one, old-fashioned telephone.
“At bloody last”, said a female voice.
“Hello”, I said, “who’s calling?”
“It’s Janie, we met at Kim’s party last week.”
“Oh, hello”, I said, intrigued.
“You are impossible to get hold of”, said Janie, “I have tried to call you loads of times. Your answering machine isn’t switched on.”
“I don’t have an answering machine”, I said, while thinking to myself that if she had given me her telephone number in the first place she might have spared herself these difficulties.
“I have been out rather a lot this week”, I continued, “in fact, if I sound a little out of breath, it’s because I have just been out to lunch and heard the phone ringing as I came up the stairs.”
“Oh, that’s a bummer,” said Janie, “I was going to invite you over for ossobuco with Kim and Micky this evening, but if you have already eaten you obviously don’t want…”
“…no, hold on a moment”, I persevered, “I love ossobuco and I’d very much like to join you, Kim and Micky for dinner. But if I don’t eat a vast quantity of food, you’ll know the reason why. Is that a deal?”
“OK”, said Janie.
“You’ll have to give me your address and telephone number now”, I said, trying hard not to sound triumphal about it.
Given that the only way to resolve the matter was now for Janie to phone me, they came up with this “chaperoned Sunday evening meal at Janie’s place” idea. The only problem with that grand scheme was that Janie had tried and failed many times to phone me; basically because I wasn’t at home much and only took telephone messages through work in those days.
But all’s well that ends well.
The evening was a great success. I didn’t have room for seconds but I did discover that Janie can cook a mean ossobuco. Even to this day, we think of slow cooked shin of veal (not always done ossobuco style but all variants qualify in our book) as “our dish”.
Just feast your eyes on it again. Yum.
Osso Bucco – picture by Stu Spivack via Wikipedia Commons
It’s a bit all over the place (much like its non-evil twin song), but I think it was used a couple of times over the summer, if for no other reason to reprise (reuse) the springbok masks from the Terre’Blanche song. If you want to know more about Jani Allan, some of the newspaper headline links – here – are at least as funny if not funnier than my lyric.
I FEEL PETTY
(To the Tune of “I Feel Pretty”)
VERSE 1 – JANI ALLAN
I am Jani, yes I’m Jani, I am canny, my man ‘e is white,
And my fanny, is with Eugene Terre’Blanche tonight;
I feel Nazis, private parties, though my heart is not party to crimes,
Even tarts see that the Nazis are bunch of slimes.
See the article in the Mirror there,
Why does everyone libel me?
I shall sue the Sun, and sue Channel 4, and the Guardian and I shall sue me.
I am petty, oh so petty, but I bet ‘e can get me a pile,
Cos I’m now the most soughter reporter for miles.
MIDDLE BIT – CHORUS
Have you seen my friend Michael Jackson,
The crazyist guy on the screen,
The strange parts that his surgeon tacks on,
Have made him look so weird and some say obscene.
He thinks he looks good, he thinks he’s a brain,
He doesn’t look good, he’s really insane.
Write a word or two about Michael, and he’s bound to sue you for libel;
VERSE 2 – MICHAEL JACKSON (LOOKING IN A MIRROR)
Woooo,
I look pretty, woooo so pretty, though this city is shitty I’m white;
It’s a pity that the papers libel me through spite.
See that pretty boy in that mirror there {CHORUS WITH PAPERS: this mirror here};
Doesn’t he look slightly like me {CHORUS: who what where who}
Such a pretty nose such a pretty face such a pretty hair pity its not me.
Woooo,
I am petty, oh so petty, like Paul Getty I’ve earned mega bucks,
I don’t care if I look like the back of a truck.
If you want to hear Natalie Wood sing I Feel Pretty and see the lyrics to that song, see below:
All the diary entry says is “Kim & Michel 1:30”. A daytime, summer party. But that summer party was no ordinary passing event for me…nor for Janie.
On that day, at that party, Janie and I first met.
Writing this piece 25 years (to the day) after the event, my recollection of the day is a bit patchy.
I hadn’t seen Kim and Micky for some time; since my back injury, two year’s before, I had been a bit less sociable and had not been so good at keeping in touch with people. I remember being pleasantly surprised when Kim called, out of the blue, to invite me to that party.
There were quite a lot of people at the party – a few dozen I would guess. I chatted at some length with a pair of lively, friendly “girls”; Anthea – a photographer friend who had been at school with Kim, as had the other young woman, Jane, who was Kim’s chiropodist friend.
I vaguely recalled Kim having spoken with me in the past about these good friends; in particular Jane. I also recalled Rene Knight (who worked for Kim’s family for many years) telling me a funny story about Jane.
When Kim first started dating Micky, Rene mentioned to Jane that Micky was from Belgium and also that Kim’s new hot-shot boyfriend drove a Mercedes. Jane had asked whether the Mercedes was petrol or diesel. Rene wondered why Jane wanted to know. Jane told Rene that a Belgian diesel Mercedes must be a cab and that, if the Mercedes was diesel, Micky was clearly not the hot-shot he held himself out to be. Rene passed on this pearl of wisdom to Kim, who confirmed that the car was indeed propelled through the use of diesel fuel. By all accounts, Kim challenged Micky with this “fact” about his occupation the next time she saw him, but, despite Janie’s error of judgment on that matter, Kim & Micky progressed with their relationship and the two of them persevered with Janie’s friendship.
In some ways it is odd that Janie’s and my path hadn’t crossed before, through Kim & Micky, but in the late 1980s, when I would see Kim & Micky socially a few times a year, it tended to be dinner or lunch parties and I guess they saw Janie and me as part of different circles. In any case, we were both otherwise attached most of the time during those years.
Anyway, Janie and I ended up as part of a smaller group that was still around into the early evening, at which point Kim suggested that we all go across the square and play tennis.
I had just started playing tennis again post injury, although quite tentatively still. Goodness only knows how useless I was after quite a few drinks at the party. But most of us had been drinking quite heavily, so I don’t suppose the quality of the tennis was very high.
I’m struggling to remember who was still around for that impromptu tennis. Janie, Kim and Micky of course; I think also Gary & Clifford. Perhaps Anthea also, but I have a feeling that she ducked out before the tennis. Others might remember.
I do recall thinking that Janie was pretty good at tennis. It probably helped that she was the only sober person among us. It also helped that she had grown up in a house with a tennis court and sisters to play with, but I didn’t know that fact at the time.
Janie had mentioned several times that she had driven to the party in her car and therefore wasn’t drinking. After the tennis, I asked her if she could drop me at a tube station. She said that she would, but that she wasn’t prepared to go out of her way and that the only tube station she’d be passing was Hanger Lane. That was ideal for me, as Hanger Lane and Notting Hill Gate are on the same line.
Janie and I chatted some more on the fifteen minute car journey.
She said that she liked poetry.
When she stopped the car to drop me off, I asked Janie for her telephone number.
Janie said no.
In order to get out of the car with my dignity intact, I took from my wallet one of those sticky labels with my name, address and telephone number on it. I stuck the label on her steering wheel, saying, “in that case, you can have my address and telephone number”.
Janie thanked me and said that she would write me a poem.
I went to see this show with Andrea, Maz and Daniel – normally the “three musketeers” of our bridge four.
Not sure whose idea it was to see this show…but I’ll guess that Maz was the ringleader for the trip.
I don’t remember much about it, but the diary says we met at 6:30 so I guess we had a drink before the show and a quick meal afterwards. I’m guessing The Mayflower Chinese, as I have a hint of a memory of dining with those three at that place, but I could be wrong.
Andrea or Maz might remember. Even Daniel might. I’d love to learn of any lingering memories from that evening.
My log simply says “fun”, which I recall it was. A rather silly show, of course, but that’s the idea of it.
I went to see this play with Bobbie Scully. I remember it very well; both of us were very taken with it. It did prove to be a big hit, transferring and being produced again many times.
This original production really was a cracker. I think it pretty much made Jane Horrocks’s name; I don’t think she was all that well known before – perhaps she was known on the TV. Pete Postlethwaite and Alison Steadman were terrific.
I’m not sure what we did for food, but we tended to go to The Archduke or possibly RSJs after the show in those days.
No on-line reviews from those days, so you’ll just have to take my word for it – it was a cracking show. I rated the evening very good in my log, that’s for sure. Several reviews on-line for subsequent versions refer to the 1992 production – click here for the search term that brings those up.
Better yet, below is Michael Billigton’s Guardian review:
25 years ago to this very day (I am writing on 1 August 2017), I wrote this rather nasty little lyric, which was very successfully used in NewsRevue for many weeks.
I’m hoping someone out there can name the two performers who made this their own for the first few weeks; I can picture them but not name them. I think Jonathan Linsley and Dot Atkinson were also in that cast, but I’m pretty sure the other two played Mick and Jerry…
Postscript: I found a running order and cast list in my own pile of antiquities – Peter Anthony Graham was “Mick” and Vanessa Peers was “Jerry”.
25 years later Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall are both still surprisingly newsworthy.
MICK’S UNPLEASANT THINGS
(To the Tune of “My Favourite Things”)
JUDGE:Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to conduct the divorce proceedings of Mr Michael Jagger and Ms Jeremiah Hall. Ms Hall. Will you please explain to this court why you wish to divorce this man.
VERSE 1 – JERRY’S TESTIMONY
Prancing about like a twelve year old wanker,
Marianne Faithful and loyal to Bianca;
Hundreds of other girls now wear his rings,
These are a few of Mick’s unpleasant things.
VERSE 2 – MORE OF JERRY’S TESTIMONY
Ogling at photographs of Dolly Parton,
Trips with Bill Wyman to the Kindergarten;
Look how he dances and hear how he sings,
These are a few of Mick’s unpleasant things.
CLIMATIC BIT 1 – JERRY’S CLIMAX
When a Mars bar, extra large size, is placed by my bed;
I think of Mick’s bulging and expectant eyes, and go for a walk instead.
JUDGE:Is she not radiant? Is she not fragrant? Would you care for a Twix, Ms Hall? Now, Mr Slimy Toad, what do you have to say for yourself?
VERSE 3 – MICK’S TESTIMONY
Slow Texan drawl that drives me to distraction,
With girls like her I can’t get satisfaction;
Fights over Carla and my other flings,
These are a few of her unpleasant things.
VERSE 4 – MICK’S TESTIMONY
Honky Tonk Woman you’ve gone way past your prime,
Get off my cloud, paint it black for the last time,
I want some action, I don’t want the strings,
Least of all I want her unpleasant things.
CLIMATIC BIT 2 – MICK’S CLIMAX
When my lips purse, and I’m strutting, then its time for bed;
I think about Jerry’s aversion to rutting, and screw someone else instead.
JUDGE:Divorce granted. Next case please.
Just in case you don’t know the song My Favourite Things from The Sound of Music…or even if you do know it but want to hear and see it again, here it is:
On 1 August 1993, I wrote a 50th birthday remix of this lyric:
MICK’S UNPLEASANT THINGS – 50th BIRTHDAY REMIX
(To the Tune of “My Favourite Things”)
ANNOUNCER:And now, in honour of Mick Jagger’s fiftieth birthday, we go over now to Mick & Jerry’s palatial residence in Richmond upon Thames.
VERSE 1 – JERRY HALL
Prancing about like a twelve year old wanker, Marianne Faithful and loyal to Bianca; ‘Tho Mick is fifty he still has wild flings, These are a few of Mick’s unpleasant things.
VERSE 2 – MICK JAGGER
Slow Texan drawl that drives me to distraction, With girls like her I can’t get satisfaction; I’m fifty so Jerry now clips my wings, These are a few of her unpleasant things.
CLIMATIC BIT 1 – JERRY’S CLIMAX
When a Mars bar, extra large size, is placed by my bed; I think of Mick’s bulging and expectant eyes, and go for a walk instead. VERSE 3 – JERRY HALL
Ogling at photographs of Dolly Parton, Trips with Bill Wyman to the Kindergarten; Look how he dances and hear how he sings, These are a few of Mick’s unpleasant things.
VERSE 4 – MICK JAGGER
Honky Tonk Woman you’ve gone way past your prime, Get off my cloud, paint it black for the last time, I want some action, I don’t want the strings, Least of all I want her unpleasant things.
CLIMATIC BIT 2 – MICK’S CLIMAX
When my lips purse, and I’m strutting, then its time for bed; I think about Jerry’s aversion to rutting, and screw someone else instead.
So the other female in that cast (other than Dot Atkinson) was named Vanessa. Can anyone remember or find out what her surname is/was?
(Postscript: Vanessa Peers.)
I remember absolutely nothing about the stupor-filled weekend in South London referred to in the note…
…so it must have worked.
The diary helps; I went to see Little Voice with Bobbie on the Saturday evening and played bridge (presumably at Daniel’s place) at 5:30 on the Sunday. I’ll write up the Little Voice presently but the bridge I don’t recall but it sounds as though it would have been well wacky.
Dear Paula,
Here is one new song and some changes to bring some others more up to date.
MICK (see enclosed)
Vanessa wanted a leading role in a number from a big musical – so here it is. I’m actually very pleased with “Mick’s Unpleasant Things” and hope you like it too. I think you could do a lot with it.
STERIODS (see enclosed)
The twists in the Olympic drugs story have helped me to tighten up the Steriods (sic) number. I think it is better than it was, but I won’t be disappointed if you drop it for something better.
TERRE’BLANCHE (see enclosed)
The Terre’Blanche libel case gets more bizarre and more coverage in the papers each day. I have tweaked the intro to bring it up to date with the case and added an extra “middle bit” couplet that pre-empts the ANC general strike (due to start Monday) and the Boipatong enquiry (due to start on Thursday). You have done a really marvellous job with this number – I was very impressed. It is just a shame that the writers could hardly see at the back last week!
LABOUR (not enclosed)
I agree with you’re swopping Dave Blunkett for Paul Boeteng in “Come Back Labour”, but I think the intros should now read:
“Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce:
Neil Kinnock on keyboards,
Margaret Beckett on do-dos,
Harriet Harman on wop-bops,
Dave Blunkett on eye-drops,
And me, John Smith, on (pointedly) lead vocals.”
One small hint on performing “Labour”: – the Wilson couplet can be made to scan by leaping in a fraction early on the second line – the emphasis is as indicated thus:
“Come back Wilson, whatcha leave for?
We last won elections in ‘74,”
(I keep meaning to mention this when I see you – I know its a bit petty.)
ME (not enclosed)
I’m off now to spend the weekend in a stupor with various friends in South London. I may well get some good ideas there – but am unlikely to remember many of them and am even less likely to write anything down. If anything else does come to me I’ll bring it in Monday night.
You are all doing a grand job and I hope to see you next week.
But in truth, I wanted to write more about this lyric and in any case that original version from February 1992 was pre-NewsRevue (from my point of view) and never professionally performed.
By the summer of 1992 I was writing quite regularly for NewsRevue and, fortuitously (for me and for NewsRevue, not for the people of South Africa), Terre’blanche was back in the news.
Stalwarts of the show that summer were Jonathan Linsley and his then girlfriend Paula Tappenden. Both had a go at both acting and directing the show; at that juncture, Paula was directing and Jonathan was acting. That was good fortune for this song, as Jonathan was able to personify the ghastly Eugène Terre’Blanche very well.
I recall some excellent business in the intro where they would take the line “I like to watch springboks rutting” and get a member of the cast to do some suggestive puppetry with a pair of sneakers, only for Linsley/Terre’Blanche to yell, “I said springboks, not Reeboks”.
The female members of the cast would don deer masks and then dance around as a chorus of springboks. I recall that Dorothy (“Dot”) Atkinson was one of the springboks in that song but more importantly one of the supremely talented members of that cast.
Perhaps you had to be there – it was great. Paula and Jon (and indeed Dot); you were and are stars. It was one of the golden eras for NewsRevue.
In my delight and excitement at this triumph, I found, in Record and Tape Exchange, which is/was around the corner from my flat, an utterly ghastly album of Afrikaaner Oom-pah-pah music by Johnny Saffer and his Afrikaaner Pennywhistle Brass Band. OK, perhaps the band wasn’t called that, but the jolly looking chap on the cover “boer” a passing resemblance to Linsley/Terre’Blanche.
I gave the album to Paula and Jonathan. I think Jonathan and Paula enjoyed the wheeze. I wonder what became of that memento when they split? Perhaps this Ogblog piece will uncover one or both of those lovely people and my question might even be answered.
Meanwhile, the lyrics that were actually used in NewsRevue follow:
EUGENE TERRE’BLANCHE – JULY 1992 VERSION
(To the tune of “Sweet Gene Vincent”)
INTRO BIT
{CHORUS:Eugene baby}
I like to get out of Cape Town sometimes and drive round the Karoo,
I like to eat Boerwors with right wing reporters who claim we don’t screw;
I like to watch the springboks rutting, I like to eat them barbecued.
