Tag: NewsRevue

My journal note for this lyric reads:

Tribute to the comedy legend Terry Randall

I’m going to guess that I wasn’t overly enamoured of Terry Randall’s March to April 1993 NewsRevue run. Presumably I wrote this for a smoker or just to show around the writers, some others of whom might well have been similarly disaffected:

TITTY TITTY BUM BUM

(A Song in memory of Terry Randall’s run to the Tune of “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”)

 

INTRO

Titty bum bum, titty titty bum bum,

Titty bum bum, titty titty bum bum,

Titty bum bum, titty titty bum bum;

 

CHORUS 1

Ha ha titty titty bum bum, titty titty bum bum’s what we do,

And this titty titty bum bum, is a pretty dull dum News Revue;

Where has all the audience gone, they’re to thick to get the joke,

Bum bum titty titty bum bum, push pricks pubes paps and poke,

Bum bum titty titty bum bum, with TV sport and soap.

 

TV SPORT AND SOAP

East Enders screw everyone,

Brookside viewers read the Sun,

While Sky TV’s dropping like a stone;

Paul Gascoigne’s knee’s terrible,

And Vinnie Jones gropes the ball,

Mike Gatting is batting his bone.

 

CHORUS 2

Ha ha titty titty bum bum, titty titty bum bum’s all we’ve got,

And this titty titty bum bum, is a shitty rum numb not a lot;

Where have all the writers got to, they all know they’re out of luck,

Bum bum titty titty bum bum, so News Revue is stuck,

Bum bum titty titty bum bum, but we don’t give a fuck.

{Titty titty bum bum, titty titty bum bum, you’re all wankers, titty titty bum}

Below is embedded the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Theme Tune:

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

Here is a link to those Chitty Chitty Bang Bang lyrics.

25 years later Europe still dominates our politics here in the UK – oh boy.

Anyway, the Maastricht Treaty was the hot potato in 1993. I wrote this:

MA STRICHT

(To the Tune of “Ma Baker”)

 

FEMALE VOICE:Freeze, this here’s the Ma Stricht treaty.  Put your hands in the air and gimme all your constitutional powers.

MALE VOICE:This is the story of Ma Stricht.  The longest bill in old Westminster town.

 

VERSE 1

It was the longest bill, At the third reading stage,

A repetitious bill,It seemed to take an age,

It was no fun at all,No no no fun at all;

It was the tritest act, In old Westminster town,

A most prosaic act, They tried to bring it down,

Till the whips came along,Then Tories played along.

 

CHORUS 1

Ma ma ma ma, Ma Stricht is, Parliament’s main fight,

Ma ma ma ma, Ma Stricht keeps, MPs up all night,

Ma ma ma ma, Ma Stricht is, as boring as hell,

Ma ma ma ma, Ma Stricht cos it’s the Lords match as well.

 

VERSE 2

She was the meanest cow,In old Westminster town,

An old and bitter cow,In her red Ermine gown;

She had no heart at all,No no no heart at all;

She used her heavy mob,These thugs all owed her credit,

An evil heavy mob,Lord Joseph and Lord Tebbit;

They had no heart at all,And had no brains to call.

 

CHORUS 2

Ma ma ma ma, Marge Thatcher, she and her old Peers,

Ma ma ma ma, Marge Thatcher, fought Europe for years,

Ma ma ma ma, Marge Thatcher, she thought the EC,

Ma ma ma ma, Marge Thatcher ought to stage World War Three.

 

MAJOR:This is a special bulletin.  Marge Thatcher is the Tory Whip’s most considerably wanted woman.  Oh yes.  If you see anyone voting with this woman, please report it immediately to Tory Central Office.

THATCHER:Don’t anybody move.  Hand over that treaty.

 

VERSE 3

John Major’s dull and thick, But he knows Thatcher’s ploys,

He’ll make the treaty stick,With his Tory whip boys,

Though it won’t work at all,Cos it’s not meaningful.

 

CHORUS 3

Ma ma ma ma, Ma Stricht oh, when will the end come?

Ma ma ma ma, Ma Stricht needs, a referendum,

Ma ma ma ma, Ma Stricht has, got nowhere to go,

Ma ma ma ma, Ma Stricht cos half of Europe says “no”.

Here is a vid of Boney M (probably) singing Ma Baker:

Here is a link to Ma Baker lyrics.

Jimmy Knapp was the leader of the National Union Of Railwaymen (latterly and by the time of this lyric the RMT).

The “Reid” mentioned in the lyric is Bob Reid, who chaired British Rail at that time, not John Reid who was Minister of Transport a few year’s later.

Jimmy Knapp was somewhat in the news most of the time but in truth wasn’t big news that spring. I don’t think this lyric was used.

JIMMY KNAPP

(To the Tune of “Jimmy Mack” – backing vocals are easier done than read)

CHORUS 1

Jimmy Knapp, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, when are trains coming back?

Jimmy Knapp, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you’re running off the track.

VERSE 1

MacGregor’s cursing you,

Bob Reid feels the same way too;

You stick to your lines like glue,

BR staff’s relying on you;

Worker’s chief fear is that you will fail,

To save those jobs in British Rail.

CHORUS 2

Hey, Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you’re taking all the flak,

Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, it’s trains that Britons lack.

VERSE 2

He calls Reid on the phone,

About three times a day;

But it’s hard to listen to,

What Knapp has to say;

Cos everything Jim says to you,

Is in a deep Glasweigan hue.

CHORUS 3

Hey, Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you’re an old union hack,

Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you’re like a BR snack {stale and vapid}

{Jimmy Knapp, you’re an old union hack, Jimmy Knapp, you’re like a BR snack}

 

VERSE 3

I wanna say, un-i-ons aren’t getting stronger,

But the trains don’t run any longer,

Briton’s trains are empty,

Cos Jimmy he’s in charge of the RMT.

CHORUS 4

Hey, Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you’d better mind the gap,

Jimmy, (costs are rising), Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, cos British Rail is crap.

I attempted an updated version in June 1995, which went as follows:

JIMMY KNAPP
(To the Tune of “Jimmy Mack” – backing vocals are easier done than read)

CHORUS 1

Jimmy Knapp, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, when are trains coming back?
Jimmy Knapp, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you’re striking Railtrack.

VERSE 1

Railtrack are cursing you, commuters feel the same way too;
You stick to your lines like glue, signalmen aren’t working for you;
You took the bosses by surprise, with union action for a huge pay rise.

CHORUS 2

Hey, Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you’re taking all the flak,
Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, it’s trains that Britons lack.

VERSE 2

He calls Bob on the phone, about three times a day;
But it’s hard to listen to, what Knapp has to say;
Cos everything Jim says to you, is in a deep Glasweigan hue.

CHORUS 3 (SUNG IN A VERY DEEP GLASWEIGAN HUE)

Hey, Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you’re an old union hack,
Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you’re like a BR snack {stale and vapid}
{Jimmy Knapp, you’re an old union hack, Jimmy Knapp, you’re like a BR snack}

VERSE 3 (BACK TO NORMALITY)

I wanna say, un-i-ons aren’t getting stronger,
And the trains don’t run any longer,
Briton’s trains are empty,
Cos Jimmy he’s in charge of the RMT.

CHORUS 4

Hey, Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, you mind the income gap,
Jimmy, {wages rising}, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Knapp, cos British Rail is crap.

Here are Martha and the Vandellas singing Jimmy Mack – embedded below or click this link to also see lyrics in YouTube:

I’d completely forgotten about this lyric. I’m sure NewsRevue didn’t use it but it certainly has party piece potential – especially as the tune, Guantanamera, is in my baritone-uke repertoire.

I especially like the spoken bit, emulating Pete Seeger’s delivery.

GRUNGE CLOBBER WEARER

(A Song with singalong potential to the Tune of Guantanamera”)

 

INTRO

Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer,

Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer.

 

VERSE 1

She wears an old green sombrero,

She bought for three quid at Oxfam,

It don’t match her blue bolero,

And she’s a bright yellow socks fan.

None of her gear ever matches

She’s a thing of shreds and patches.

Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer,

Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer.

 

VERSE 2

She dons an old baggy cardie,

And V-neck jumper that mum made,

Mum used to knit clothes so hardy,

That they would last several decades.

She decks her bright baggy flare-as,

Or loon pants under her hipsters.

Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer,

Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer.

 

SPOKEN BIT

The words mean:

She is much poorer now and can’t afford designer clothing any more,

But she is not crying, because she can now wear old tat and call it fashion.

Her cut outs are soft green.  Her cut outs are also flaming crimson.

Her cut outs resemble the output of an old age home occupational therapy unit.

The last verse says: “This fashion is insincerer”:

With the poor people of this earth she wishes to share her fashion statement.

But once she’s making pots of money again, she’ll go back into the boutiques.

 

OUTRO

Sing along now: Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer,

Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer.

(Once more: Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer,

Grunge clobber wearer, she is a grunge clobber wearer.)

Here is Pete Seeger giving it his all in a grunge clobber wearer shirt:

…and here is a link to those Guantanamera lyrics.

Unemployment was a big issue in 1993 – the gig economy hadn’t been invented for a start. Quite a lot of my lyrics related to the topic.

I was unsure whether or not this one was used, until I found this letter – click here.

It’s perhaps not the very best of them and is generic in nature. Some decent lines though and it seems it gre on me when I saw it performed.

WILL HE EMPLOY ME TOMORROW?

(To the Tune of “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?”)

VERSE 1

Each day I slog completely, {Sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha,}

To keep my boss repletely, {Sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha,}

Tonight my fright may well be mortified, {Aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa},

Will he employ me tomorrow? {Will he employ you tomorrow?}

VERSE 2

This permanent employment, {Sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha,}

Seems like transient deployment? {Sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha,}

Can I believe these are P45s. {Aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa},

He won’t employ me tomorrow. {He won’t employ you tomorrow}

MIDDLE BIT

For years with words unspoken,

I earned my pay by working hard;

But now my contract’s broken,

I’ve been sent {s/he’s been sent} to the knack- {to the knack-} ers yard.

VERSE 3

I’d like to hope that your boss, {Sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha,}

Does not treat staff like old dross;{Sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha,}

So tell me now cos if you think he’s kind, {Aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa},

He may employ me tomorrow. {He may employ you tomorrow?}

I’ll crawl and plead if you don’t think he’ll mind, {Aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaa},

Oh please employ me tomorrow? {Oh please employ him/her tomorrow?}

Here is an embedded vid of the Shirelles singing “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” – and if you click through to YouTube on this link you can also read the lyrics:

My lean run of form was to come to an end after this one – a week later I wrote a corker – but this lyric, like the several that preceded it, was missing the mark for the show.

Writing in March 2018, I realise that the notion of Italian politics being in a total mess is always topical and therefore (in a way) never topical.

WAKE YE UP SIGNORE AMATO

 (To the Tune of “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go”)

 

Lines to be sung correspondingly by the corrupt and the law enforcers.  Yehs, yehs to be provided by yourselves.

 

VERSE 1

Corrupting Italy, reacting bitterly, corrupting Italy, reacting bitterly

You put the kickback into my hand,

They’re on the make down Naples and up in Milan;

Corruption spreading the land,

A state of pay that Ancient Romans would understand.

Di Pietro, he’s no fool,

With his metro-politan rules;

This skulduggery we know ain’t right,

You’ve made a buggery and Italy is in the shite.

 

CHORUS 1

Wake ye up Signore Amato, else your government must departo,

Wake ye up Signore Amato, don’t want to miss it when you nail that heist;

On the make with lots of Dagos, Eyetie Government’s move we prego,

On the make with lots of Dagos, take me grafting tonight,

I wanna get that bribe, yeh yeh yeh.

 

VERSE 2

You took the job from Bettino Craxi,

He’s on a graft charge now he spends all day in the Jacksy;

You tried to keep your voce sotto,

You’re in a worse mess than Canal Cafe Risotto.

Watch the English say we’re daft,

They distinguish us for our graft;

They’ll be laughing, so effetely,

Greasy palming, English just do more discretely (absurd Masonic handshakes).

 

CHORUS 2

Shake them up Signore Amato, or the crowds’ll throw you ripe tomatoes,

Shake them up Signore Amato, don’t want to miss it when you nail that bribe;

Shake them up before you go broke, Or the Eyeties’ll want a new bloke,

Shake them up before you go broke, or this is election year,

Like almost every year.

Below is a vid of Wham singing Wake Me Up Before You Go Go – to read the lyrics too you need to click through to the vid here instead: