Tag: NewsRevue

Happy Tories, NewsRevue Lyric, 26 April 1992

I was reminded of this song when we gathered for an Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner on 2 March 2017.

Ultimate Love and Happy Tories, Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, Café Rouge Holborn, 3 March 2017

Mark Keagan was there and it naturally came up in discussion that his father-in-law, David Waddington, passed away last week.

I mentioned that I had mentioned Waddington in one of my early NewsRevue songs. We all agreed that the song might come in handy for Mark and the family over the next few weeks (well you never know). In any case I should Ogblog it pronto for the NewsRevue alumni of our era.

I’m pretty sure this song was used in a couple of runs at that time; the aftermath of the 1992 election.

Click here or below for a link to Happy Talk, the version recorded by Captain Sensible, including Hammerstein’s original lyrics for the tune.

HAPPY TORIES (To the tune of “Happy Talk”) – tweaked 2 July 1992

CHORUS 1

Happy Tories, Tories, seeking work,

Jobs for the boys you’d like to do;

You’ve got to have a seat, if you don’t have a seat,

You may have to govern Timbucktoo.

VERSE 1

Talk about a Lord, David Waddington, his sentences for death could not be cruder,

He saw a hot place, where they still can hang, now he’s Governor out in Bermuda.

CHORUS 2

Happy Tories, Tories, seeking work,

Jobs for the boys you’d like to do;

You’ve got to have a seat, if you don’t have a seat,

We can find an island just for you.

VERSE 2

Talk about a girl, Thatcher was her name {girl?}, sacked as PM, now a Baroness,

She will not shut up, she is still a pain, now the Tories want her even less.

CHORUS 3

Happy Tories, Tories, seeking work,

Jobs for the boys you’d like to do;

You’ve got to have a seat, if you don’t have a seat,

You can have a sinecure or two.

VERSE 3 (slower – almost weeping on the first line – brightening up for the cushy job)

Talk about a boy, took an early Bath, Chris Patten could end up on the skids,

Stipend from friend John, Governor of Hong Kong, worth a-hundred and fifty thousand quid.

{Various voices choose from the following: “a year”, “tax free”, “plus yacht”, “plus flashy cars” “plus thirty thousand pounds a year expenses” “plus lots of power”}

CHORUS 4

Happy Tories, Tories, seeking work,

Jobs for the boys you’d like to do;

You’ve got to have a seat, if you don’t have a seat,

You may get a mansion in Wah Fu,

So if you’re a Tory, and you cannot win a seat, you may win a fortune in Kowloon.

Biggy Biggy Bang Bang, Comedy Lyric For NewsRevue (Unused), 26 April 1992

Well, I was a bona fide NewsRevue writer when I submitted this one, although i might not have known it yet.

But for some reason the then Director, John Random, did not deem this one good enough.

Perhaps the subject, the big bang, didn’t seem topical enough. I think something big bang-ish must have been in the news. I rather like the lyric.

                                         BIGGY BIGGY BANG BANG
                                   (To the tune of “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”)
 
INTRO
 
Biggy Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang,
Biggy Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang,
Biggy Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang:
 
CHORUS 1
 
Ooohhh, aaahhh, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang’s primeval,
And now Biggy Biggy Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang’s believable;
Look at all the happy scientists, but they never can explain,
Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang’s too big for my small brain,
Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang, except for this refrain:
 
THIS REFRAIN
 
The birth of the universe,
In six lines of rhyming verse,
Is likely to be a first, so hark;
 
The soup is primordial,
It looks like lime cordial,
A proton, a neutron and quark.
 
CHORUS 2
 
Ooohhh {NASA}, aaahhh {COBE}, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang, Big Bang’s cosmological,
This {Supa} find {Nova} Biggy Biggy Bang Bang, is so astronomical;
See {Mega} how {Giga} all the puzzled journo’s struggle to describe the dross,
Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang, but they’re all at a loss,
Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang, and no-one gives a toss.
{Biggy Biggy Bang Bang, Biggy Biggy Bang Bang primordial Biggy Biggy Bang}
 

Below is a video of the song Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Click here for the lyrics to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

California Here I Go, NewsRevue Lyric, 23 April 1992

The very helpful and encouraging Spitting Image people (especially Bill Dare and Giles Pilbrow) eventually encouraged me to contact NewsRevue, primarily because my songs tended to be very topical, whereas Spitting Image tended not to do topical musical numbers. I was not only encouraged but also rather chuffed to see a W2 address for the Canal Cafe Theatre. Within walking distance seemed convenient enough for me.

At NewsRevue my correspondence found a welcoming John Random inviting me to a writers’ meeting on 2 April 1992, which will be the day I first met several “friends of decades” and the first time saw NewsRevue. A young Jacquie Somerville was directing that run, much to the chagrin of the regular writers, as she was primarily using material from her own troupe, which I believe included Reece Shearsmith, together with material written by her pal Andrew Whelan. But John told me at that writers’ meeting that he was due to take over as director of the next run shortly.

I hope to write up that early journey from juvenilia towards NewsRevue via Spitting Image more fully at some stage; there is quite a fat file of my correspondence and early efforts.

On the morning of 21 April 1992, the radio news was full of the Robert Alton Harris (no relation) execution/stay of execution saga in California. The old Al Jolson song “California Here I Come” popped into my head. The following lyrics almost wrote themselves.

There was no YouTube or e-mail with attachments in those days. I must have spooled a copy of the Jolson verse/chorus from my trusty reel-to-reel onto a cassette. The WP file of the lyrics is time stamped 08:12.  I think I heard the news that execution had been stayed on the Today programme shortly after 8:00 (just after midnight California time), so I concluded the lyric with a stay of execution and dropped a package off by hand at the Canal Cafe Theatre on my way to work.

These days I can link you through to a trusty YouTube of Al Jolson singing California Here I Come – click here or below.

…and a link to the original lyrics of the song – here.

By the time I got home from work that day, Robert Alton Harris had been executed. I wasn’t sure what that existential change to the ending would do for the fate of my topical song, but of course in the hands of seasoned topical satirists like John Random and Chris Stanton, such last minute tweaks are merely par for the course.

So, when I went to the writers meeting on 23 April, I was thrilled to see my little song on the running order for that week’s show. I was even more thrilled to see my song performed.  It turned out, of course, to be the first of many.

I seem to recall a slightly gruesome yet somehow amusing “snuffed” head gesture by Chris Stanton to conclude the song appropriately, despite the lyric. I cannot remember who else was in that cast; John Random will no doubt remember; he remembers most everything. Ian Angus Wilkie I think… But enough of my 2016 waffle, here is the full extract of the lyrics of my debut NewsRevue song from 1992:

♬ CALIFORNIA HERE I GO ♬

(To the tune of “California Here I Come” – but strictly no blackface when  performing this please)

 

INTRO

When the calls for death start growing,

And guillotines are starting to fall;

That’s when I am westward going,

To the place that kills ’em best of all.

California, I’ve been blue,

I’ve not seen death since ’62;

I can’t wait ’till blood starts flowing,

Even now I’m starting to call:

 

CHORUS 1

California here I go,

See the Nightmare on Death Row;

Where killing, is thrilling, oohh what a gas,

San Quentin, is rentin’, programmes, seats and opera glass.

 

The show’s soon startin’, don’t be late,

Watch the bad guy meet his fate,

In a snuff movie by the State,

California here I go.

 

CHORUS 2 (More slowly – different singer?)

California, here I go – yeh,

Back and forth along death row;

You oughta, try slaughter by electric chair,

Say hello to gallows, gassing folks is not quite fair.

 

The execution will be late,

It’s been stayed, you’ll have to wait,

For murder sanctioned by the State,

California, here I go.

 

 

Will You Believe Me Tomorrow, Comedy Lyric, 8 April 1992

This was the last of my “pre-NewsRevue era” comedy lyrics – another 1992 election-oriented lyric. I wrote the lyric 3 April although the log credits it as 8 April ; the election was held 9 April. No-one expected the Tories to retain power in that election, but they did.


                                 WILL YOU BELIEVE ME TOMORROW?
                            (To the tune of “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?”)
 
 
TORY
 
The night is ours completely,
Tho’ we campaigned effetely;
Tonight, the Right, was given a kickstart,
Will you believe me tomorrow?
 
LABOUR
 
We’ve won by every measure,
Much to the Tories’ displeasure;
So, after all, this nation has a heart,
Will you believe me tomorrow?
 
ALL
 
Tonight with words multifarious,
Spin doctors claim that we’ve all won;
Their quotes may seem hilarious,
Once in print, in the Times and Sun.
 
LIB/DEM
 
This is our finest hour,
We hold the balance of power;
We, in our dreams, prepare for Government,
Will you believe me tomorrow?
 
ALL
 
We, in our dreams, prepare for Government,
Will you believe us tomorrow?
 
(Backing vocals for the three political verses as follows:
Sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha,
Sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha, sha-la-lub-sha;
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaaaaaaaa,
Will you believe me tomorrow?)
 
                                                                                                         3 April 1992

Below is a video of The Shirelles singing Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow:

https://youtu.be/3irmBv8h4Tw

Click here for the lyrics to Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.

Flags Of Convenience, Comedy Lyric, 27 March 1992

This is another comedy lyric written around the time I found out about NewsRevue but probably written for my own/friends amusement. It was around the time of the 1992 election.

                                          FLAGS OF CONVENIENCE
                                         (To the tune of “The Red Flag”)
 
 
RED
 
The people’s flag is deepest red,
It shrouded oft our martyred dead;
And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold,
Their heart’s blood dyed its every fold.
 
Then raise the scarlet standard high,
Within its shade we’ll live or die;
Tho’ cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We’ll keep the red flag flying here.
 
BLUE
 
The bosses flag is deepest blue,
It helps us tell men what to do;
And when they’re fighting in a bar,
Its azure lights the Panda Car.
 
Then raise the sapphire flag a while,
Within its shade we’ve made a pile;
Tho’ Unions flinch and workers sneer,
We drink fine wine, they swig warm beer.
 
YELLOW
 
The Liberals flag is yellow/gold,
The colour isn’t very bold;
And as we can’t make up our minds,
We’ve changed our name a dozen times.
 
Oh jaundiced banner in the skies,
Within your shade we’ll compromise;
Tho’ Tories punch and Labour pound,
We’ll occupy the centre ground.
 
GREEN
 
The Eco flag is crispest green,
We like to keep our standard clean;
And tho’ it sounds incré-dible,
Our flag’s biodegradable.
 
Oh verdant banner in the breeze,
Within your shade, no CFCs;
Tho’ dross decay and wastrels wear,
We’re going to save the ozone layer.
                                                                                                  27th March 1992

I also wrote an update of this lyric in the Autumn of 1994; I don’t think that it was used in NewsRevue either, but it might have been:

FLAGS OF CONVENIENCE – AUTUMN 1994 REMIX
(To the tune of “The Red Flag”)
RED
The people’s flag is deepest red,
It shrouded oft our martyred dead;
And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold,
Their heart’s blood dyed its every fold.
So raise the scarlet standard up,
In deepest pooh we’ve ended up;
Tho’ unsure what the ‘ell it’s for,
We took the cause out of clause four.
BLUE
The bosses flag is deepest blue,
It helps us tell men what to do;
And when they’re fighting in a bar,
Its azure lights the Panda Car.
So raise the sapphire flag a while,
Within its shade we’ve made a pile;
Tho’ Unions flinch and workers sneer,
We drink fine wine, they swig warm beer.
YELLOW
The Liberals flag is yellow/gold,
The colour isn’t very bold;
Tho’ we’re broad-minded on our jogs,
We’re Fascists on the Isle of Dogs;
Oh jaundiced banner in the skies,
Within your shade we’ll compromise;
Tho’ Tories punch and Labour pound,
We’ll occupy the centre ground.
GREEN
The Eco flag is crispest green,
We like to keep our standard clean;
And tho’ it sounds incré-dible,
Our flag’s biodegradable.
Oh verdant banner in the breeze,
Within your shade, no CFCs;
Tho’ dross decay and wastrels wear,
We’re going to save the ozone layer.

Below is a video of The Red Flag with the lyrics:

The Ultimate Love Song, Whoops Vicar, NewsRevue, Ben Murphy…, 29 February 1992

I think a basic version of this song might have sat on my jotter for years before I typed it up and tried to do something with it, but I copyrighted it 29 February 1992.

That makes the lyric proper 25 years old this week (at the time of writing), unless you are really pedantic about dates, in which case it is six-and-a-quarter. I was reminded of it, coincidentally, during its anniversary week – click here for that story. 

Anyway, I think this one first saw the light of day in the hands of Brian Jordan, who found it in the NewsRevue reject pile (probably thanks to John Random) and took it to Edinburgh in 1992 in his show, “Whoops, Vicar, Is That Your Dick?”  So I can for ever boast that my material made its Edinburgh debut in a show by that glorious name.

Subsequently (and/or perhaps simultaneously), the song did NewsRevue runs and was also picked up by west country comedy-singer Ben Murphy for recording –  click here or below to hear.

Definitely one of my bigger hits. I can even thrash it out on my baritone uke, key change ‘n’all.

Click here or below for a link to the tune and lyrics: Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You by Glenn Medeiros.

THE ULTIMATE LOVE SONG

(To the tune of “Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love for You”)

 

VERSE 1

Every little thing she does is magic, you will never walk alone, the winner takes it all;

I can’t give you anything but my love, together we are beautiful, it’s not unusual.

You to me are everything, I’d like to teach the world to sing;

Only you, love me do,

You don’t have to say you love me.

 

CHORUS 1

Nothing’s gonna change the way I sound,

Just take another song and swop the words round;

One thing you can be sure of,

This is a sound you’ll hear some more of.

Nothing’s gonna change the way I croon,

There isn’t too much scope with only one tune;

You can wait your whole life through

But nothing’s gonna change the songs I do.

 

VERSE 2

You’re the first, the last my everything, with you I am born again, more than I can say;

You won’t find another fool like me dear, I can’t give you anything, one day I’ll fly away.

When will I see you again? you know that you have got a friend;

She’s not there, I’ll be there,

I don’t want to talk about it.

 

CHORUS 2

Nothing’s gonna change the songs I sing,

Just churn another out and hear the tills ring;

How come I’ve made my fortune,

When I have only written one tune.

Nothing’s gonna change the way I chant,

I sorta tried it once but found that I can’t;

This style’s the one for me,

The only thing I change is key (rising to higher key, slightly beyond ability of crooner)

Nothing’s gonna change my serenade,

Despite the fact it sounds as if I’ve been spayed;

I’ve made a pile this way,

So I’m afraid this song is here to stay.

Mrs T, Attempted Spitting Image Lyric, Eventually NewsRevue Lyric, 10 February 1992

One of my earlier attempts, this.

Originally submitted to Spitting Image, 9 or 10 February 1992, I subsequently submitted it to NewsRevue.

Anything that worked to “I Will Survive” was automatically on John Random’s prohibited list, I later discovered, but I did eventually get a version of the song into NewsRevue, perhaps as late as October 1993 but I think probably before that too.

You can’t keep a good lyric down, John; this one is, in my view, quite a good lyric.

The following version is e-dated April 1992, so the original Spitting Image one might be lost for all time, but I doubt if I really changed it between February and April – just a tiny tweak I suspect, otherwise I’d have saved it as a revised version:

MRS T

(sung by Maggie Thatcher to the tune of “I Will Survive”)

 

VERSE 1

At first I was afraid; (yes, even Mrs T),

Was scared of living out my life without publicity;

But then I spent so many nights just watching “Grey Man” droning on,

And I grew strong; and I learned how to get back on.

 

So now I’m back, from outta space,

To find that people know my voice and they still recognise my face.

 

I should have sacked the bleeding lot, I should have left the EEC,

If I had known for just one second that they’d end up sacking me.

 

CHORUS 1

Oh yes it’s me,

I’m on TV,

Even though it’s only Channel 4,

Or sometimes BSkyB,

But I’ve got interviews to give,

So while I still can breath and live,

I’m on TV,

I’m on TV.

 

VERSE 2

I tried to warn you, John, about the EMU,

But now I fail to understand what people see in you;

Cos then you took me to one side and whispered softly in my ear,

That it was better for the party if I quietly disappear.

 

So I went back, across the sea,

Where I had organised a Brussels photo-opportunity.

 

Yes I went straight up to the top, because I’m never one to tarry,

And I tried to head-butt Jacques Delors and kneecap Ray McSharry.

 

CHORUS 2

So no more blues,

I’m in the news,

Even though it’s just page seven,

Of the Finchley Evening News,

But I have speeches left to make,

And there are photographs to take,

I’m in the news,

I’m in the news.

Here is Gloria Gaynor singing I Will Survive:

…and here is a link to the lyric to the Gloria song.

For any completists out there who are still reading, here is the October 1993 version which was adapted for some hoo-ha around Mrs T’s memoirs or something:

  MRS T – AUTUMN 1993

(sung by Maggie Thatcher to the tune of “I Will Survive”)

 

VERSE 1

At first I was afraid; (yes, even Mrs T),

Was scared of living out my life without publicity;

But then I spent so many nights just watching “Grey Man” droning on,

That I grew strong; and I learned how to get back on.

 

So now I’m back, and out in print,

My memoirs will be a best seller so I’m going to make a mint.

They detail how I discharged Howe, because he backed the EEC,

I’ve been voracious for revenge since those dumb bastards ousted me.

 

CHORUS 1

Oh yes it’s me, literally,

You know my book has been reviewed on Channel 4 and BSkyB;

And I have memoirs left to write,

That dump John Major in the shite,

I will revive, I will reprise.

 

VERSE 2

I tried to warn the public that John Major’s thick,

And that those arseholes Clarke and Lawson used to make me sick;

But then the Tory party magnets whispered softly in my ear,

That it was better for the party if I quietly disappear.

 

So I went home and wrote my book,

And now those jerks who tried to gag me are deep in the shtook,

You see my memoirs have a knack of making everyone look silly,

And they ought to circulate more quickly than Dave Mellor’s willy.

 

CHORUS 2

So no more blues, my book’s reviewed,

Even tho’ it’s one of seven in the Finchley Evening News;

But I’ve more paragraphs to draft,

Cos half my cabinet was daft,

I will surmise, I will surprise, hey, hey.

(People in white coats lead her away, saying “there there” and “just slip your arms into this nice little jacket”)

 

50 Ways To Shop Your Lover, Unused Lyric, 9 February 1992

This nasty lyric turns 25 today (the day I’m writing this Ogblog piece) so I thought its anniversary needs marking.

I had been engaging in correspondence with Spitting Image for some weeks before writing this lyric. At this juncture they were encouraging me to write slightly less topical songs as the Spitting Image songs tended to be topical-ish rather than up to the minute topical.

Indeed Bill Dare, Giles Pilbrow and others at Spitting Image were most encouraging and (in the end) recommended me to NewsRevue, where the rest was history.

I guess I was still on the very low foothills of my comedy writing craft in February 1992. Unsurprisingly, neither Spitting Image nor NewsRevue used it. Frankly, I cannot imagine this lyric being used by anyone professionally, unless it was a particular fit for a spoof musical. It has one or two quite clever lines but certainly lacks laughs.

The lyric is based on 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover by Paul Simon – click here or below for a link to a YouTube, where someone has also helpfully added the Simon lyrics.

An infinitely better spoof than mine on this Paul Simon song is Carol Brown by Flight of the Conchords; “there must be fifty ways that lovers have left me…” – click here or below for that wonderful comedy song and video.

And finally, my modest lyrics from early February 1992:

50 WAYS TO SHOP YOUR LOVER

(sung to the tune of “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover”)

 

VERSE 1

 

“The problem is all inside your head”, she said, “It’s fair,

“To want to get even at the end of an affair;

“I’d like to help you in your struggle to get square,

“There must be 50 ways to shop your lover”.

She said,  “excuse me, but this point I must impress,

“With famous lovers you can always find redress;

“Pick up the telephone and notify the press,

“There must be 50 ways to shop your lover”.

50 ways to shop your lover.

 

CHORUS 1

 

Just call Private Eye, Guy, spill out the works, Dirk;

Unbutton your lip, Chip, I know it sounds kitsch.

Give out the scoops, troops, make sure they’re the hot poops;

Blow out the gaff, Taff, and ruin that bitch.

 

Just spill all the beans, Jean, go shoot the breeze, Denise;

Give out all the dirt, Flirt, the bastard won’t sleep.

Sing like a canary, Mary, say he’s really a fairy;

Sell a bum steer, dear, just nail that creep.

 

VERSE 2

 

She said, “you shouldn’t view loves ending as defeat,

“The story is valuable, you’ve landed on both feet”;

I said, “I appreciate that, but would you still repeat,

“About the 50 ways……….”

She said, “this conversation has really turned me on,

“Why don’t we sleep on it and talk some more at dawn?”

And then she kissed me, and I realised, her tape machine was on,

There must be 50 ways to shop your lover.

50 ways to shop your lover.

 

CHORUS TWO

 

Put a tap on the phone, Joan; record every date, Kate;

Make sure you’re both seen, Jean; and hardmouth that worm.

Bug the latrine, Katrine; that’s bound not to be clean;

Make sure you’ve got dabs, Babs; and make the slime squirm.

 

Just burgle the flat, Matt, Keep a line up your sleeve, Steve;

Break into the safe, Ralph, And lift all the muck.

Put a mike in your crutch, Dutch, you don’t need to record much;

Then sell on the dirt, Kirt, you’ll make mega bucks.

copyright © Ian Harris 1992

Eugène Terre’Blanche, NewsRevue Lyric, 7 February 1992

Today (1 January 2017) I received a text from John White which says:

…started singing Eugene Terre Blanche to the tune of Sweet Gene Vincent in the shower this morning. One of yours – can you Ogblog it when you get a chance as it’s now an ear worm!

Well, John, what are friends for?

I want to elaborate on this one at some stage as it’s one of my faves and there are some tales to tell. But Janie and I are off to the pictures now, so you’ll have to make do with the bare minimum for now, in order to de-worm your ear.

The version below was written before I discovered NewsRevue – I’ll write more about this lyric’s journey through NewsRevue later. The extraordinary thing, to me, is that the version below will be 25 years old in a few weeks time.

Click here or below for the Ian Dury and the Blockheads version

EUGENE TERRE’BLANCHE

(to the tune of “Sweet Gene Vincent”)

 

INTRO BIT (Optional)

 

I like to get out of Cape Town sometimes and drive round the Karoo,

I like to watch youngsters run like Zola Budd and bowl like Garth Le Roux,

I like to watch the springboks rutting, I like to eat them barbecued.

 

Eugene Terre’Blanche, Neo-Nazi baas, Eugene Terre’Blanche.

 

Who, who, who’s that baas?

 

1st MAIN BIT (Compulsory)

 

White face-black shirt, whites rich-blacks poor, Afrikaner-Hottentot, white’s right-black’s not:-

 

Eugene Terre’Blanche,

There’s one in every town;

I’m fond of dressing up like the Ku Klux Klan,

In a pointed hat and gown.

 

Eugene Terre’Blanche,

I am a crashing Boer;

Before we cede power to the ANC,

We’ll fight a civil war.

 

Well, the Nationalist Party is much too soft,

I think they’re Botha jerk,

But I’d still sooner have to take my Pik,

Than F.W. de Klerk.

 

2nd MAIN BIT (Still compulsory)

 

White Meneer-black Kaffir, whites vote-blacks don’t, Afrikaner-Bantu, hate blacks and Jews:-

 

Eugene Terre’Blanche,

They say that I’m like Himmler;

I haven’t yet caused as much violence as him,

But our accents sound quite similar.

 

Eugene Terre’Blanche,

I’m the baas laager lout;

We’re gonna cause trouble in the RSA,

Until we get thrown out.

 

Eugene Terre’Blanche,

I’m just a big fat git;

I’d like to end this song on a profound note,

But I’m afraid that’s it.

7 February 1992

 

John Major Rock, Eventually NewsRevue, Originally 30 January 1992

An early lyric from the period when I was writing for fun and submitting to Spitting Image on the off chance. I seem to recall getting good feedback on this one. I have the correspondence somewhere for Ogblogging in the fullness of time.

This one eventually got a NewsRevue run or two, perhaps late 1992. It worked well in the show.

As I reread this lyric for the first time in decades (in May 2019), I must admit I smiled a few times and even laughed out loud at one or two lines. Although why I suggested at that time that cricket legend Don Bradman might have been dead I simply cannot fathom. He died in 2001.

JOHN MAJOR ROCK

(To the tune of “Crocodile Rock”)

I remember when I was young,
Me and Norma had so much fun;
Holding hands to Johann Strauss,
Watching films of Bambi and Mickey Mouse.
Oh the wild and wicked games we’d play,
We’d knock on doors and run away;
While the other kids were causing an affray,
We were home playing records by Mel Torme – wo

John Major is not a stranger,
To the wrong side of the track;
And here in Lambeth you quickly learn,
What it means to receive a smack.
Hey lordy mama its Friday night,
So Norma counts her pairs of tights,
And I read Wisden late into the night.

Na – nanananana – nanananana – nanananana,
Na – nanananana – nanananana – nanananana.

Well the years went by,
Don Bradman died,
Maggie got the bullet, tho’ I don’t know why;
She had always been so very good to me,
Making me the Chancellor and Foreign Secret’ry.
But I nearly fell through the floor,
When the papers said that I’m a bore;
Which is libel, but I’ve chosen to ignore,
A not inconsiderable case in law – wo

John Major is not a stranger,
To the wrong side of the track;
And here in Lambeth you quickly learn,
How to stab people in the back.
Hey lordy mama its Friday night,
And “Friday Night Is Music Night”,
It’s gone 10:30 when we turn out the light.

Na – nanananana – nanananana – nanananana,
Na – nanananana – nanananana – nanananana.

Below is a video of Elton John singing Crocodile Rock with the lyrics on the screen: