Tag: crimes against songwriting

twenty thousand years of this, seven more to go

On By brosencrantzIn Blog posts1 Comment

Inspired by, and to the tune of, the first half of Bo Burnham’s magnificent “Welcome to the Internet”,

and by my friend Laci’s absolute dismay at experiencing the London Underground for the first time, which he immediately dubbed “the mole kingdom”.

 

Welcome to the mole kingdom! Have a look around
This is how we get from place to place while under ground
We’ve got oodles of stations, some better, some worse
If none of them confuses you then you’d be the first

Welcome to the mole kingdom, try to grab a seat,
You’ll soon forget what daylight is, you’ll soon forget the streets
There’s no need to panic, please try to stay calm,
We don’t respect personal space but we mean no harm

Welcome to the mole kingdom, where would you like to be?
Stay near Bank or Leicester Square or past the wildlands of Zone 3?
There’s District, there’s Circle, Victoria too
But please don’t ride the Central if you don’t want to stew

Welcome to the mole kingdom, feel your snot turn black
This train is overheating but it’s too late to turn back
The air here’s half man-sweat, half weird-smelling dust
Just do as all the locals do and lie you’re not fussed

Welcome to the mole kingdom, here we go again
You’re getting tunnel vision, nothing’s real but tubes and trains
The people… aren’t happy, they don’t meet your gaze
You’ve been here twenty minutes but it feels like five days

“See it say it sorted” echoes round and round your brain
“Mind the gap” has lost all meaning, “please alight” just sounds insane
Pass a cordon get aboard and sleep and wake up down in Morden
Meet a helpful platform warden then ride north a little more then-
Get lost in the labyrinth
(How is Bank this WRONG)
We’re waiting at a signal but we
won’t
be
here
too
long

A Song for Greggs

On By brosencrantzIn UncategorisedLeave a comment

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6MqiPM_i3Y

Written during lockdown from fond memories of cheap baked goods. With apologies to Hans Zimmer, Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil.

 

 

Shiver my tummy, shiver my bakes
(Let’s go to Greggs)
There are men whose bellies are empty of cake
(Let’s go to Greggs)

I will fill myself under Greggs signs blue
A savoury luncheon and a shortbread too
It’s as cheap a tale as was ever told
Of coffee scalding and of pastries half-cold

Shiver my tummy, shiver my soul
(Let’s go to Greggs)
There are holes only filled by a bacon roll
(Let’s go to Greggs)

At noon those pastries all fly off the shelves
The lunchtime crew must fight to feed themselves
The builder there would have got his mate
An extra bean’n’cheese melt, but he was too late (was too laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate) (five six seven eight)

wooma wacka wooma wacka something not right
many wicked icky things in the coffee tonight
wooma wacka wooma wacka thirsty man beware
while the pastries make you whole, the drinks make you despair (drinks make you despair)

ONE MORE TIME NOW

Shiver my tummy, shiver my guts
(Let’s go to Greggs)
There’s a door on the high street that never shuts
(Let’s go to Greggs)

When the bacon’s grilled and the shortbreads made
There’s no turning back from any pittances paid
And when sausage rolls are only 95p
You can bet your boots there’ll be gluttonyyyy

Shiver my tummy, shiver my legs
Gosh I REALLY LOVE GREGGS

Greggs

I’m On A Train (ft. Virgin) – West Coast Main Line Version

On By brosencrantzIn UncategorisedLeave a comment

Aw shit!
Get your tickets ready, it’s about to go down
Everybody in the place hit the fucking platform
And look for your motherfucking COACH
We’re boarding this, let’s go

I’m on a train
I’m on a train
Everybody look at me cause I’m riding on a train
I’m on a train
I’m on a train
Take a good hard look at the motherfucking train

I’m on a train motherfucker take a look at me
Straight riding on a train through the green country
Busting 125, windows streaky with the rain
You can’t stop me motherfucker cause I’m on a train

Take a ticket scan, I’m on a train, man
I’m drinking tea that was poured out by the trolley man
I got my power socket and my table seat
Reserve the quiet coach, it’s well hard to beat

I’m in the bathroom, trying to wash my hands and shit
The tap here’s broken, it’s getting me all wet
But this ain’t a cheap train, this is dear as it gets
I’m on a train motherfucker, don’t you ever forget

I’m on a train and, it’s braking well hard
I got a 16-25 young persons railcard
I’m the king of the rails on a train like Thomas
…we’re really slowing, getting worried if I’m honest

Fuck cars, I’m on a train motherfucker
Fuck beds, I sleep in seats motherfucker
Stopped the trolley, I’m buying treats motherfucker
At least I’ve got plenty to eat motherfucker

Hey mum if you could see me now
The train in front is fucked up somehow
We’re stuck in farmland, I’m staring at a cow
Thought I’d be on time, now that’s impossible

Yeah I never thought I’d wait on a train
A clunky overpriced metal pain
Richard Branson, look at me

Never thought it’d be this way,
Now I’ve been stuck on a train all day
Believe me when I say,

RENATIONALISE THE RAILWAYS

we sail tonight for singapore

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(Prompted by reading this article)

(and listening to this song, though I really shouldn’t have to tell you that, sort your life out)

Hovercraft: WE SAIL TONIGHT FOR SINGAPORE
Hovercraft: WE’RE ALL AS CLEAN AS CHOIRBOYS HERE
Brosencrantz: I’VE FALLEN FOR A SANCTIONED WHORE
Hovercraft: TOOK OFF TO THE LAND OF JEANS
Brosencrantz: WENT SHOPPING WITH THE CHINAMEN
Brosencrantz: CLEANED UP THE SEWERS OF PARIS
Hovercraft: THE CAPTAIN IS A CORPORATE SHILL
Hovercraft: HE’S REPORTING THROWN DICE ALONG THE WHARF TO THE RELEVANT AUTHORITIES
Hovercraft: IN THE HALL OF THE BLAND THE SINGAPOREAN MAN IS KING
Hovercraft: SO TAKE THIS COUPON
Brosencrantz: PAT HIM DOWN FOR CHEWING-GUM
Brosencrantz: TAKE AWAY HIS STOCK OF RUM
Brosencrantz: FROM NOW ON BOYS THIS GLASSY MALL’S YOUR HOME
Brosencrantz: (huh the line “wash your mouth out by the door” doesn’t actually need to be modified)
Hovercraft: WIPE HIM DOWN WITH VASELINE
Hovercraft: TILL HIS ARMS ARE SOFT AND CLEAN
Brosencrantz: PICK THE LITTER FROM THE FLOOR
Brosencrantz: WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT BY THE DOOR

a little less conversation, a little more traction please

On By brosencrantzIn Uncategorised3 Comments

With apologies to Will Smith and Philip Reeve.

Now this is a story all about how
My London started rolling round and round
And I’d like to take a moment, just sit right there
I’ll tell you how I got tangled in this Web of Air

Down west of the Barbican, raised and bred
In mad old Godshawk’s giant metal head
Chillin’, Scriven fearin’, engineerin’ all cool
And all makin’ some paper boys for the council’s rule
When an army of nomads, they were up to no good
Started try’na mobilise my neighbourhood
Dr Crumb saw the Skinner mobs and he got scared
He said “you’re ridin’ in this heat-balloon, up in the air!”

I crashed down by a mono, and when it came near
The armour plate said “Movement” and had Stalkers in the rear
Took me up before Quercus, and I was almost scared
But then he sent me to my mum and she freaked at my hair.

Quirke cruised right into London, left Ted flat as a plate
Cracked a vault full of engines, said he’d make the town great
But when they got London rollin’ I wasn’t there
Ran off down south to Mayda, now I’m Fever in the air.

madder than a mile-high statue of himself

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for fear of living in regret says:
have you read Fever Crumb?
or something says:
I have, but I forgot most of it
for fear of living in regret says:
ah
so it’d be hard to coerce you into helping me with a Fever-based song and dance number
or something says:
more or less impossible
for fear of living in regret says:
Down south of the Barbican, raised and bred
In crazy old Godshawk’s giant metal head
chillin’, Scriven fearin’, engineerin’ all cool
and all makin’ some paper boys for the council’s rule
when an army of nomads, they were up to no good
started try’na mobilise my neighbourhood
Dr Crumb saw the cockney mobs and he got scared
or something says:
…wow
for fear of living in regret says:
he said “you’re ridin’ in this heat-balloon, up in the air”
yes, I did actually make that up on the spot
or something says:
holy shit
you should become a rapper
you could be bigger than flight of the conchords
for fear of living in regret says:
they’re not very big
or something says:
ssh
they’re big in my heart
for fear of living in regret says:
mine too
perhaps I should try a different angle
or something says:
like what?
for fear of living in regret says:
fever, fever when you’re weird-eyed, fever when you’re always right
or something says:
no
for fear of living in regret says:
fever, fever in the morning
fever all through the night