I rather liked this lyric, but I don’t think it was ever used.
PRESIDENT AL
(To the Tune of “You Can Call Me Al”)
VERSE 1 – CLINTONS
A man in Washington he says, Why am I soft in the noddle now? Why am I soft in the noddle when the rest of my team is so bright? I need a photo opportunity, I need a lot of attention, Don’t want to end up a has been in a tax and spend fight.
Bill Clinton, Bill Clinton, ponders there all night, Far away in the Oval Room, Hilary Clinton, Hil Clinton has much more ability, But for now the USA it just won’t boom.
CHORUS 1- CLINTONS
“If you are a feminist, I can give you jobs” said Bill; “Wife in charge of health care, And medical appointments are now made with Hil”.
VERSE 2 – GORES
A man in Washington he says, “Why am I short of attention? Get so damned little media attention and my job’s such a bore. Got my wife beside me, We stand behind Clinton, He needs a role model and we are clothes models”,
Gore, Gore, we should be in Hollywood unlike, Bill’s roly poly little bat faced girl; And the poor, poor, say we are all star struck, Can’t decide if we’re decisive enough.
CHORUS 2 – GORES
I look like a bodyguard, And Tipper is the Clinton’s pal; And although I’m steady, I’m ready if I’m called in as President Al, White House Al.
This lyric works ever so well with the tune of You Can Call Me Al by Paul Simon. Dig this vid:
Another lyric that went begging, as far as I can recall.
PORTILLO
(To the Tune of “Tit Willow”)
VERSE 1
In the house at Westminster an abrasive git, Known as Brillo Portillo Portillo; Had his hands on the purse strings and talked heaps of shit, That fellow Portillo Portillo. Is it weakness of intellect in Michael’s ken, Or a rather tough line from those Thatcherite men?
PORTILLO:It’s my mindless ambition to reach number ten.
But will-oh Portillo Portillo?
VERSE 2
He planned lots of cuts and he made Tories row, That is still-oh Portillo Portillo;
PORTILLO:The young and the poor never vote anyhow,
Thus billowed Portillo Portillo. He sounded like Thatcher, young Mike must’ve seen her, But from his mouth the policies sounded obscener,
PORTILLO:If they can’t afford pills let the plebs drink Ribena.
That’s shrill-oh Portillo Portillo.
VERSE 3
Now I feel just as sure as I’m sure Gordon Brown, Tried to grill-oh Portillo Portillo; That his own over zeal will bring young Michael down, Sounds brill-oh Portillo Portillo. He would charge for the pill but we can’t understand, Why he’d dish out free condoms with the other hand,
PORTILLO:My Mates shares have just gone up eighty-five grand.
Cheap thrill-oh Portillo Portillo.
The above lyric works well to the Tit Willow song from the Mikado:
Once bitten but seemingly not twice shy, here was another evening at the Questors with Pauline, Janie’s mum. Quite soon after the previous visit to see The Real Thing:
On this occasion, I had been at a BDO Awayday on the Friday and overnight into the Saturday. This might have been the one after which Steve Taylor nearly lost his life in a car accident driving off to play cricket on the Saturday, but perhaps that was an earlier one.
I too was taking risks with my next day activities, but a different family of risks.
Anyway, according to Janie’s diary, she took work on the Saturday morning and gave blood that afternoon, before our evening engagement with her mum…
…that really is like giving blood twice in one day – not recommended.
Much like with The Real Thing, Janie and I got the opportunity, about seven years later, to see a tippy-top professional production of this fine play – in the case of All My Sons, one of Arthur Miller’s finest.
The Questors production was not at all bad, though.
No drinks at Pauline’s before this one – I think Pauline set into what became the regular pattern of “fairness”, which was:
Pauline did The Questors tickets
Janie paid for the drinks at The Questors
I paid for the restaurant meal afterwards.
I learnt some years later that, as a member of The Questors, Pauline got a certain number of free tickets for shows and I am pretty sure she calibrated her membership/invitations to ensure that she wasn’t actually paying for our tickets…ever.
Fair enough.
Janie’s diary reveals that we ate at Lisa’s after that particular show. Lisa served pretty good food on Pitshanger Lane, but my goodness did you get Lisa’s life story thrown in free of charge along with the food, especially if you were one of only a handful of late/after theatre tables.
This is not one of my better lyrics and I’m pretty sure it never made the show.
BETTER THE LEADER YOU KNOW
(To the Tune of “Better The Devil You Know”)
WOGANESQUE VOICE:Good evening and welcome to the Eurotory leadership contest. The UK jury is definitely out tonight as we go over now to hear this year’s losing entry by the UK Tory Party.
VERSE 1 – JOHN MAJOR
One thing about those Tory blues, They rarely treat their leaders true; When I do something not quite right, They’re round with long knives in the night. It is a chore to be PM, But the job’s mine and not for them.
CHORUS 1 – STILL JOHN MAJOR
Better the leader you know than the leader you don’t, Oh yes, oh yes, I can buy a little time by sacking Lamont, Oh yes oh yes; Better the leader you know than the leader you don’t.
VERSE 2 – MAGGIE THATCHER
I tell him he’s a wally almost every day, I’m out of my head or so the brain shrinks say; He wont assert himself like the real Tory men, He’s got the key to my place, meaning Number 10. You know I’ve more spunk than those men, We’ll junk John then I’ll run again.
CHORUS 2 – MAGGIE THATCHER
Better the leader you know than the leader you don’t, Ah ha, ah ha, I can cause a lot of fuss while these new Tories wont, Ah ha, ah ha.
OUTRO
MAJOR:Don’t chose Portillo, THATCHER:Or Hestletine; BOTH:No peccadillos, that job is mine. Better the leader, Better the leader you know than the leader you don’t.
The above lyrics work to the tune of Better The Devil You Know, which was the UK’s Eurovision entry in 1993. Decide for yourselves whether my lyric or the Eurovision song is more dreadful:
We went for dinner at Victor & Kim’s place. Kim & Micky were also there. DJ might have been there too that night but I have a feeling it was just the six of us.
Victor’s second wife was named Kim, which caused some confusion with his daughter Kim when, on occasions, someone mentioned “Kim” without a fair bit of context.
Janie’s solution was to add the suffix “the chickidoo” when referring to Victor’s Kim, while omiting said suffix when referring to her old school pal Kim. Clever stuff.
Anyway, I seem to recall a very enjoyable evening on that occasion. Good food, good wine, good chat.
What else might one wish for from such an evening?
Interesting stuff. It’s one of those nights at the theatre about which I remember little detail but it left a lingering impression on me nonetheless. I can still sort-of remember the sights, sounds and even smells of it.
I think this was one of the best lyrics I wrote for NewsRevue. It was almost certainly the quickest, in terms of creative process.
The idea for it – based on the government’s imposition of VAT on domestic fuel for the first time in the UK – popped into my head as a Circle Line train approached High Street Kensington. I grabbed a piece of paper from my attache case, boarded the train and started writing.
I was done by the time we arrived at Notting Hill Gate – perhaps 90 seconds later, I still have the piece of paper somewhere – I’ll scan it and add it once I go through that part of my physical archive.
There is also a story attached to my witnessing the song’s first ever performance – a couple of weeks or so later. Keith Wickham was directing the show and I was very keen to attend the opening night; 27 May 1993.
I was in Manchester on business and arranged to leave quite early on the Thursday afternoon to be sure to arrive back in London on time. But I hadn’t accounted for several junctions of the M6 motorway to be a blocked by an accident, which meant hours of traffic jams and diversions.
I remember clearly writing off the idea of going home first…then writing off the idea of eating a proper meal before the show and eventually even writing off the idea of getting a beer and a packet of crisps in before curtain up. I think I drove much too fast once I got past the hazard and was lucky to get to the Canal Cafe Theatre at 20:00 on the dot and in one piece, just in time for curtain up.
I’m pretty sure that the crowning glory of that dash was, for me, to see Domestic Fuel performed. Rosie Cavaliero delivered the “Old Biddy” role that night. She absolutely smashed it, with a stunningly good performance, enrapturing the audience.
Anyway, here’s the lyric:
DOMESTIC FUEL
(To the Tune of “Everything I Own”)
VERSE 1 – OLD BIDDY
Fuel sheltered me from harm,
Kept me warm, kept me warm;
Fuel gave my light to me,
‘lec-tric-ly, ‘lec-tric-ly;
But Tory ministers are cruel,
By taxing my domestic fuel.
CHORUS 1 – STILL WITH THE BIDDY
So I must give everything I own,
Give up my light, my hearth, my phone,
And cut my expenses to the bone;
Just to heat my flat again,
And to treat my sore chilblain.
VERSE 2 – A CRUEL TORY
This is someone who’s old,
Decrepit and bold,
Who is taking hand outs for granted;
We shall lose her one day,
Hypothermia, say,
Then there’s one less pension we must pay.
CHORUS 2 – STILL THE CRUEL TORY
(To audience)Cos we have taxed everything you earn,
(To Biddy)Now it’s the old must take their turn,
{BIDDY: eh}
We’ll ignore health and age concern;
{BIDDY: mustn’t grumble}
Just to balance books again,
Lower interest rates again,
Then we’ll tax her once again.
{BIDDY:I don’t want to be any trouble.}
Ben Murphy made a good recording of this one – you can listen below:
Not quite the power of the original performance – superbly done by Rosie Cavaliero – but that original performance is sadly lost in the mists of time.
This is a useful note, in that it confirms that Keith Wickham went straight from cast to director at that time. It also helps confirm which of my extant batch of songs had not been used yet, to me, still felt current/useful.
If I recall correctly, Keith used plenty of mine, but probably not these ones.
LIST OF SONGS SUBMITTED AND TAPE TRACK LISTING
KEITH WICKHAM MAY-JUNE 1993 RUN
Dear Keith
There seems little point in my submitting the material that is currently being used, as I believe that you and Dan are to continue in the show. I am therefore just submitting material that has been cruelly overlooked before, some of which may match the skills of your new troop and which is not too long in the tooth. I shall obviously submit new material as and when it comes to me.
Please do call me and let me know what sort of things you are short of/need and I shall try to oblige.
Asil Nadir was a Turkish Cypriot businessman whose conglomerate, Polly Peck, which owned Del Monte amongst many other well-known brands, got into a spot of difficulty around this time. Asil did a runner and remained a fugitive for a very long time. More recently he faced justice did time.
This lyric was not used as far as I can recall. It doesn’t have a great deal going for it, in truth.
I WAS ASIL NADIR'S GIRLFRIEND (To the Tune of "I Was Kaiser Bill's Batman")
(The girls each stand on opposite sides of the stage. The henchmen stand in between them. Ideally, the girls have blond wigs and the henchmen have dark glasses and jackets.)
VERSE 1 – GIRL NUMBER ONE
Asil Nadir made knickers here, I was Asil Nadir’s girlfriend; Now that Nadir’s in Nicosia, I suppose I’m his ex girlfriend. Gave me fresh tights three times a night, All with a Polly Peck label; I was the only girl made him feel right, Till Asil bolted the stable.
VERSE 2 – GIRL NUMBER TWO
Asil Nadir was so sincere, He was the man from Del Monte; His fruit I guess made me say yes, Like in a film by Visconti. Went mad a bit, banana split, He ran away from his court case; He was so faithful and he left about, Five hundred new shirts at my place.
VERSE 3 – THE HENCHMEN (While the henchmen are singing – one of the girls goes behind them and finds the other girl)
Asil Nadir, {GIRL ONE: Asil loves me} Hassle and fear, {GIRL TWO: Asil loves me} We are Asil Nadir’s henchmen; {BOTH GIRLS: Asil Nadir’s true love} Each of his dames, {GIRL ONE: Asil loves me} Believe his claims, {GIRL TWO: Asil loves me} She is the one girl he’s wenching. {BOTH GIRLS: Asil Nadir’s true love} Asil Nadir, {GIRL ONE: Asil loves me} Made our career, {GIRL TWO: Asil loves me} Keeping his skirt segregated; {BOTH GIRLS: Hey, who the hell are you?} If we should let those birds catch Asil out, {BOTH GIRLS: We’ll both make Asil sweat} We’ll both be deconjugated. If we should let those birds catch Asil out, We’ll both be deconjugated. (The henchmen, spotting the girls are now together, both point and yell:) Oy.
The above lyric works well to the tune of I Was Kaiser Bill’s Batman:
