Tag: Canal Cafe Theatre

Steroids, NewsRevue Lyric, 25 July 1992

It was the Barcelona Olympics that summer and I thought the event needed the drugs treatment…

…as it were.

I remember Jonathan Linsley bellowing “Barcelona” at the end of the first line, to give the piece a topical feel, because it is, in truth, generic.

Still, it ran for several weeks and could run again. All it would need is a metaphorical shot in the arm.

STEROIDS

(To the Tune of “I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself”)

VERSE 1 – GIRL ATHLETE

I just don’t know what I’ve done to myself,

Don’t know just what I’ve done to my health;

Used to be soprano, now I’m baritone,

Once svelte, now I’m fourteen stone,

And chilled to the bone.

I can throw far and run like a shot,

Cos I’m built like a jet Aeroflot;

Where I once had bosoms, now I’ve large pectoids,

Don’t eat, I just take steroids;

I’ve great muscle tone,

Not human, more like hormone.

DRAMATIC MIDDLE BIT ONE – YOU CAN ALL JOIN IN

Barcelona games, we want to win the most,

We’ll do our best stuff to be first past the post.

VERSE 2 – A GROTESQUE BLOKE

I just don’t know what I’ve done to my glands,

Failed my drug test and now I’ve been banned,

Used to do athletics cos it kept me fit,

Now I just live for the hit,

When I put the shot,

It’s Cortisone in the bot.

DRAMATIC MIDDLE BIT TWO – YOU CAN ALL JOIN IN AGAIN

Barcelona games, there’ll be new records set,

We’ll take the most drugs in one Olympics yet.

VERSE 3 – TWO GROTESQUE BLOKES

We just don’t know what we’ve done to ourselves,

Get strange feelings in our brains and pelves;

Guess the trainer told us we would come in fast,

Girlfriends want our run to last;

A minute or two,

{GIRL – sounding a bit miffed}

But seven seconds won’t do.

In July 1996 I updated the lyric for the Atlanta Olympics, which gave it a new lease of life:

STEROIDS – ATLANTA 1996
(To the Tune of “I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself”)

VERSE 1 – GIRL ATHLETE

I just don’t know what I’ve done to myself,
Don’t know just what I’ve done to my health;
Used to be soprano, now I’m baritone,
Once svelte, now I’m fourteen stone,
And chilled to the bone.

I just don’t know what I’ve done to my glands,
Failed my drug test and now I’ve been banned,
Where I once had bosoms, now I’ve large pectoids,
Don’t eat, I just take steroids;
When I put the shot,
It’s Cortisone in the bot.

MIDDLE EIGHT ONE – YOU CAN ALL JOIN IN

The Atlanta games, we want to win the most,
We’ll do our best stuff to be first past the post.

VERSE 2 – TWO GROTESQUE BLOKES

We just don’t know what we’ve done to ourselves,
Get strange feelings in our brains and pelves;
Guess the trainer told us we would come in fast,
Girlfriends want our run to last;
A minute or two,
{GIRL – sounding a bit miffed}
But seven seconds won’t do.

MIDDLE EIGHT TWO – YOU CAN ALL JOIN IN AGAIN

The Atlanta games, there’ll be new records set,
Most cases of drugs in one Olympics yet.

VERSE 3 – MEDICS

We just don’t know why they’ve all done these drugs,
Cos they knew they’d get caught, they’re no mugs;
Maybe in Atlanta, something’s in the drink,
Athletes all land in the clink;
That’s why we all sing,
Try Coke, it’s the real thing!!

Here is Dusty Springfield singing I Just Don’t Know What To Do:

Here’s a link to the lyrics of I Just Don’t Know What To Do.

Come Back Labour, NewsRevue Lyric, 18 July 1992

I remember so clearly having a drink with this super cast; Jonathan Linsley, Dot Atkinson, Vanessa Peers and a spindly chap (was he named Paul?…update – no, he was named Peter Anthony Graham) who did Mick Jagger very well. Paula Tappenden was directing. The wonderful Dai Jenkins was the MD.

I asked them if they had any special requests.

Peter Anthony Graham aka “Spindly chap” wanted to sing a doo-wap song.

The girls wondered whether I could make a really taboo subject such as cancer amusing.

That weekend I attempted both. Only one worked.

This one worked and ran in the show for quite some time. I still like the song, although the line about John Smith possibly having a dicky heart went off as soon as he did actually have a massive heart attack and die. Kinda spoilt the joke.

COME BACK LABOUR

(To the Tune of “Come Back My Love”)

(You’ll have to supply most of the “do-wops” yourselves)

 

(John Smith is reading a boring speech about Labour Party policy – all the others are fidgeting and looking intensely uncomfortable)

 

SMITH:….once we’ve controlled unemployment, then we can concentrate on inflation and the balance of trade.

 

Clause Four of the Labour Party constitution has for many years been a vital issue……..

 

KINNOCK:John, for crying out loud.  This isn’t what Labour needs.  The people need a rallying cry to bring them back to the party.  A new vision, a new voice, a new tune.

 

SMITH:Och, Neil, maybe you’re right.

 

INTRO – JOHN SMITH ON LEAD VOCALS

Woh, oh, oh;

Come back Labour, don’t fade away,

Come back voters, come back to stay;

It’s our darkest hour, been so long without power,

We need to win so badly:

 

Wop {do,do,do} do de wang {do,do,do} do de wop, do de wang, do de wop.

 

CHORUS 1 – OTHER SINGERS START TAKING OVER (TO JOHN’S ANNOYANCE)

Oh won’t you come back Labour, don’t fade away,

We need new ideas, we need to pray;

We bicker too much and when we have a putsch,

The Liberals look happy.

 

Jim Callaghan, he was a man,

The British voters just couldn’t stand,

We failed in the South, put our Foot in our mouth,

And lost even more badly.

 

MIDDLE BIT 1 – JOHN IS BEING UPSTAGED

Now every party makes, some mistakes, in its choice of leader,

But Labour has a knack for, choosing an unelectable bleeder,

{Wo-ah, wo-ah, wo-ah}

 

CHORUS 2

Come back Wilson, whatcha leave for?

We last won elections in ’74,

We’ve floundered so much, we need your winning touch,

Cos since we’ve done so badly.

 

INSTRUMENTAL WITH LOTS OF “WOP A DO WOPS” AND THAT SORT OF THING

JOHN SMITH:Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce:

Neil Kinnock on keyboards,

Margaret Beckett on do-dos,

Harriet Harman on wop-bops,

David Blunkett on eye-drops,

And me, John Smith, on (pointedly) lead vocals.

 

MIDDLE BIT 2 – JOHN SMITH IS BRIEFLY BACK ON LEAD VOCALS

The papers spread the myth, that John Smith, isn’t up to the fast pace,

But in the Labour Party, they know that my heart is in the right place,

{CHORUS: and beating.}

 

CHORUS 3 – BUT IT WAS FUTILE, JOHN IS MARGINALISED AGAIN

Come back Kinnock, don’t go away,

We want you back, we want you to stay,

We all liked your style, tho’ you lost every while;

We’re used to doing badly,

{KINNOCK:Re-re-re-really?}

We keep on doing sadly,

{KINNOCK:You mean it?}

We want to win so badly.

 

OUTRO

KINNOCK:Oh, I can make one of my rabble rousing speeches, like the one in Sheffield.

ALL:Perhaps we’d better stick with John Smith for a while.

Here are Darts singing Come Back My Love.

…and the lyrics can be found here.

Lumps, Attempted NewsRevue Lyric (Mercifully Unused), 18 July 1992

I remember so clearly having a drink with this super cast; Jonathan Linsley, Dot Atkinson, Vanessa Peers and a spindly chap (was he named Paul?…no, Peter Anthony Graham) who did Mick Jagger very well. Paula Tappenden was directing.

I asked them if they had any special requests.

Peter (aka “spindly chap”) wanted to sing a doo-wap song.

The girls wondered whether I could make a really taboo subject such as cancer amusing.

That weekend I attempted both. Only one worked.

Lumps, the cancer song, didn’t work. Nor (mercifully) did the team use it, despite having requested it.

I tried.

I’D A LUMP IN MY GUT

(To the Tune of “You’re the One That I Want”)

 

VERSE 1 – HIS HOLINESS

I’ve got cells, they’re multiplying,

May be losing my bowel;

Cos the pain the lumps applying,

Its intensifying {Its intensifying, its intensifying, its intensifying}.

 

VERSE 1 – OLIVIA

You’d better shape up, cos we need a Pope, with a healthy intestine;

You’d better shape up, if you’re gonna cope, the growth better be benign;

 

CHORUS 1 – BACK TO HIS HOLINESS

Yes it is, the prognosis is divine.

I’d a lump in my gut, {how big’s the lump you’ve got?}, Oooh, ooh, ooh, sister;

Like a small coconut, {where did it hurt a lot?}, Oooh, ooh, ooh, brother;

Like a pain in the butt; {he has a lot of pluck}, Oooh, ooh, ooh,

That neoplasm, had me in spasm.

 

VERSE 2 – OLIVIA (COMING ON A BIT STRONG WITH HIS HOLINESS)

Keep abreast of the tabloids,

They’d go bust for a rumour;

‘Bout the state of my mam’roids,

Pap tumour.

 

VERSE 2 – HIS HOLINESS (SLIGHTLY OUT OF CHARACTER I FEEL)

You’d better shape up, Miss Olivia, cos you’re well known for your bust,

I’d better shut up, cos my own career, will be over if I lust,

{OLIVIA:Are you sure?}Yes, abstention is a must.

 

CHORUS 2 – OLIVIA

Now the one on the left, {look at the udder one}, is a lot bigger,

Than the one on the right, {titter at nipple puns}, which is much smaller,

Than the one on the left, {I read it in the Sun}, Ooh, ooh ,ooh;

It’s not neurosis, it’s carcinosis.

 

Now my tit has gone bust, {cancer’s a lot of fun}, ooh, ooh, ooh,

STOP (The music and dancing stops) – I can’t go on singing this pap:

It brings a lump to my throat.

 

(Looks of horror on the other faces and then quickly BLACKOUT)

Here is the video of You’re The One That I Want from Grease:

...and here are the lyrics.

Goebbels Diaries, NewsRevue Lyric (Unused), 12 July 1992

I guess I was still learning as I went along back then – I had only been writing for NewsRevue for a dozen or so weeks still…

…but this one doesn’t/didn’t/couldn’t have worked.

It has one or two good lines in it and gives a feel for the news story that was doing the rounds at the time.

Still, I had been enjoying a creative weekend that weekend – the day before was my first session with Michael over the idea that became Clean Business Cuisine – but that’s another story to be Ogblogged separately.

Back to Goebbels:

GOEBBELS DIARY – A SONG FOR FUHRER AND CHORUS

(To the Tune of “Nobody’s Diary”)

VERSE 1

Joseph Goebbel’s was my right hand man for sure,

We spread propaganda and we went to war;

Now his wretched diary gets publicity,

Folks are gonna remember him and forget me,

So I’m angry.

 

VERSE 2

Back in 38 we planned the Krystalnacht, {Ohhhh, ohhhh}

But by 45 we were completely facht;

The fire in the Reichstag, The Night of Long Knives,

Its a fact that we Nazi’s had eventful lives,

And The Big Lie.

 

CHORUS 1

FUHRER:For the times we had I want to be,

CHORUS:Star in Goebbels’ diary

FUHRER:Say, I was really bad, so write about me,

CHORUS:In the Goebbels’ diary

FUHRER:Hey, the translator’s mad, he says he likes me,

In every page, of Goebbels’ diary.

 

VERSE 3

Revisionists like Irving say we weren’t that base, {Oh-oh, oh-oh}

I think Irving’s theories are a damn disgrace;

We should be remembered as a bunch of shits,

We were evil and don’t forget who caused the Blitz,

We were violent gits,

The pits.

 

CHORUS 2

FUHRER:Could the Sunday Times have been deceived,

CHORUS:Like with Hitler’s Diaries,

FUHRER:Say, after all this time do you want to read,

CHORUS:Joseph Goebbels’ diary (page)?

FUHRER:Was the Sunday Times inspired by greed,

To print each page of Goebbels’ diary.

Here is Yazoo singing Nobody’s Diary:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vh1C1VDlmmk

…and here is a link to the Yazoo lyrics.

Meet Me In Panama, NewsRevue Lyric, Unused, 11 July 1992

A busy weekend of writing; this particular day was also my first session with Michael Mainelli to discuss the idea that became Clean Business Cuisine – but that’s another story to be Ogblogged separately.

I’ll guess that I wrote this lyric in the morning before having lunch with Michael…

…guessing that neither my creative mind nor my alcohol-addled brain will have been up to much after the long lunchtime session.

Anyway, this lyric is about the Noriega saga (Panama) which was in the news at the time. It has a few decent lines in it, but didn’t make the cut for the show and I can understand why.

MEET ME IN PANAMA

(To the Tune of “Meet Me on the Corner”)

 

VERSE 1 – US MARINES SEIZE MANUEL NORIEGA

Hey Mr Noriega, how have you been,

Tell me, have you Coke folks can snort?

We came along, to seize you by the shlong,

And to seize the blow you export.

 

You and your mates, must come back to the States,

Where we’re gonna jam you in gaol,

You are Commie gits, and you have a lot of zits,

So I schmeck that our law suit won’t fail.

 

CHORUS 1 – US MARINES SEIZE MANUEL NORIAGA

Meet us in Panama,

When the drugs are passing through,

And we’ll be there, to snatch you by the hair.

We’ll check up you’re ass,

And if we find a trace of grass,

Then your conviction will be fair.

 

VERSE 2 – US JUDGE LECTURES NORIEGA

O, Mr Noriega see what you’ve done,

You’re a dealer, pusher and slime;

You hustle for hours, but our court has the powers,

And it nose that you’ll do lots of time.

 

CHORUS 2 – US MARINES RETURN

 

Meet us in Panama,

When the Coke is passing through,

We’ll blow the place, to try and crack the case;

Manuel’s tried to make a pile by flogging passing flake,

Now Noriega’s in disgrace.

 

VERSE 3 – US JUDGE SENTENCES NORIEGA

You rock the court with your three hours of blort,

But we won’t let detail toot our goal,

You’re jury of peers has laid on forty years,

And for that long you won’t get parole.

Here is a vid with Lindisfarne singing the superb song, Meet Me On The Corner,  with their lyrics showing on the screen:

Song To Persecute You, A Private Joke Lyric For John Random, 9 July 1992

I have not often wondered precisely when it was that John Random took me to one side and explained the facts of NewsRevue song-writing life to me.

But my discovery of this little private joke lyric, dated 9 July 1992, is a piece of incontrovertible evidence. John must have taught me the facts of life a week or so before.

John explained to me that certain tunes were so over-used that NewsRevue aficionados would not consider their use under any circumstances. That was the reason, from his point of view, that, for example:

…had not been used and would not be used on his watch.

Indeed, John said, he considered such lyrics, set to excessively-used tunes, to be a form of torture.

Chattanooga Choo-Choo was another notable example that John specifically mentioned as excessively used and torturous.

I had no recollection of the following little lyric at all, so it was a surprise to me when I discovered it. I must have written this specifically as a joke for John and (presumably) handed it to him at the NewsRevue writers’ meeting that week, on 9 July:

SONG TO PERSECUTE YOU

(To the tune of “Chattanooga Choo-Choo”)

Pardon me John,

I wrote this song to persecute you;

Catch 22,

To edit the Newsrevue.

 

The public pay,

When they,

Can hear the tunes they know and like;

So Chattanooga Choo-Choo,

Shouldn’t always hit the spike.

 

Copyright 1992  “The Chattanooga Choo-Choo Liberation Front”.

Here is a great Glenn Miller vid of the song, although you don’t get any words for two or three minutes…but it is worth the wait:

…and here is a link to the original lyrics.

The Lovers, NewsRevue Quickie Voiceover, 25 June 1992

Another unexpected discovery, this one. Credited in my notes to John Random and Gerry Goddin as well as myself. There’s not much of it, so it must have simply been a shared joke at that week’s writers’ meeting.

It was Wimbledon time and the news story that year was Monica Seles’s grunting – see this newspaper article by way of example. 

There was also a movie out at the time, set in 1920’s Indochina, The Lover – click here.

I don’t recall whether or not this quickie was used. Perhaps Messrs Random and/or Goddin do recall:

THE LOVERS
(This quickie is “voice over” throughout)

{The pianist plays a few bars of music that immediately make the listener think of the Orient. It is Indochina in the 1920’s. It is hot. It is steamy. Lust is in the air. These few bars make the listener think of all that. What a pianist.}

 

THE LOVERS:{Orgasmic grunting noises (possibly some male, some female – mainly female) build up rhythmically, eventually reaching a “fingernails digging into the mattress” level of intensity.}

UMPIRE:Deuce. (pronounced juice)

DAN MASKELL:Oh I say. Monica Seles has really come out on top.

UMPIRE:(sounding exhausted) New balls please.

Maxwell’s Wife, NewsRevue Lyric, 21 June 1992

A nasty lyric, but then Maxwell deserved it. I’m not sure whether or not this one was used. Probably not, or if so only briefly.

It has its moments as a lyric:

MAXWELL’S WIFE

(To the Tune of “Mack the Knife”)

 

VERSE 1

The old shark had pearly teeth dear,

And he acted rich and flash;

A fat check book had Bob Maxwell,

But that fat Czech had no cash.

 

VERSE 2

When the old shark took a dive dear,

Filthy lucre rumours spread;

Old age pensions had Bob Maxwell,

And he dumped them in the red.

 

VERSE 3

Now old Bob’s son name of Kevin,

Tried to save the family;

But the game played wasn’t cricket,

At the Maxwell MCC.

 

VERSE 4

Down in Chelsea, early morning, (bo, bo, bo)

Press and coppers spring to life;

“Piss off bastards, we’re still sleeping”,

Yes, that sounds like, Maxwell’s wife.

 

VERSE 5

Maxwell’s rich wife named Pandora,

Raised his bail, proved her rocks;

Kevin Maxwell took the money,

But did not o-pen the box.

 

VERSE 6

Rupert Murdoch, David Stevens,

Lord Rothermere, Conrad Black;

They’ve all boosted circulation,

Now the Maxwell story’s back.

 

(OPTIONAL INSTRUMENTAL, WILD DANCING, CORNY BUSINESS AND END)

Here is a vid of Louis Armstrong singing Mack the Knife:

…and here are the Mack The Knife lyrics.

Drought, Unfinished Fragment Intended For NewsRevue, 21 June 1992

Did I run out of ideas? Did it start raining?

We’ll never know.

Anyway, here is the fragment, which (perhaps mercifully) tails off at the Denis Howell bit…

…perhaps reminiscing about the 1976 Minister For Drought was a dead end.

 DROUGHT

 (To the Tune of “Shout”, For Soloist and {Chorus})

 

We-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ll

-e-e-e-e-e-e-ll

 

FIRST BIT

You know there’s gonna be a drought, {drought}, Hear the pipes-a thumping, {drought}

There’s no water pumping, {drought}, Put your hose back, {drought},

Come on now{drought}

Go and pay your water bill,{drought}

Yeh pay for every pint,{drought}

yeh yeh yeh yeh yeh{drought}

Pay your bill{pay your bill}

On the meter these days{pay your bill}

Come on come on{pay your bill}

Take one bath in three days{pay your bill}

 

SECOND BIT

Come on now, {drought},

Don’t hose your garden, {save}, Don’t drink the water, {save},

Don’t wash your bottom, {save}, You shouldn’t oughta, {save},

Go thirsty{drought}

Go thirsty{drought}

Go thirsty{drought}

 

THIRD BIT

I still remember, {shoo-bee-doo-wop}, when we had a drought years ago, {shoo-bee-doo-wop},

We had a minister, {shoo-bee-doo-wop}, by the name of Dennis Howell, {shoo-bee-doo-wop},

Here is little Lulu and the Luvvers singing “Shout”:

…and here are the Shout lyrics.

We’re Not Here For The Game, NewsRevue Lyric (Probably Unused), 21 June 1992

I don’t think this one was used, but it reads well – there are some good ideas and some good lines in it.

There must have been some sort of soccer thing happening in Sweden at the time, with English soccer fans disgracing themselves as is their wont…

WE’RE NOT HERE FOR THE GAME

(To the Tune of “Name of the Game”)

 

ONE ENGLISH YOBBO

 

I’ve drunk ten pints, in a short time,

Watching the football in Sweden;

Went round the town, had a good time,

Look, there’s a doorway I peed in.

 

TWO TOLERANT SWEDES

 

They are an impossible race,

Tho’ we give them cheap lagers;

They fight and they mess up the place,

Like the villains in sagas.

 

TWO ENGLISH YOBBOS

 

But you ought to know (sniff),

We’re not here for the game,

We just want beer and Aquavit,

We’re not here for the game,

Cos our soccer’s a load of shit.

 

ONE TOLERANT SWEDE

 

Tell me please, cos I’d like to know,

Why the louts throw up, over my Volvo?

 

TWO TOLERANT, DEPRESSED SWEDES {WITH YOBBOS ON BACKING VOCALS}

 

And it makes us sad {do do}, and it makes us weep {do, do},

We take Mogadon {do do}, or else we cannot sleep;

When it gets us down {do do}, we take Valium {do do},

And when Sweden lose {do do}, we shall try Potassium – {Cyanide} ,

For committing suicide……..

 

THE YOBBOS LAST SEETHING CHORUS {JOINED BY SUICIDAL SWEDES}

 

You ought to know (sniff), oh yes you ought to know (sniff),

We’re not here for the game {they are an impossible race},

We just want beer and Aquavit {they fight and they mess up the place and throw up a lot},

We’re not here for the game,

Cos the soccer’s a load of shit…..

 

(Perhaps the song ends in chaos with the cyanide taking effect on the Swedes and the yobbos beating each other up??  Or perhaps not?)

Here’s a vid of Abba singing “Name Of The Game:

…and here is a link to the lyrics of Name Of The Game.