England Made Me
(Title half-inched from Luke Haines, who half-inched it from Graham Greene)
Baby you could be famous
You could see your marble face all around
Baby you could be famous
If you could just get out of this town
Included for the benefit of Americans and Big Brother contestants. A thousand obnoxious media creatures grew up with this refrain (or something like it) rattling around their empty skulls. They will live long and prosper.
The Light At The End Of The Tunnel (Is The Light Of An Oncoming Train)
She stayed with me until,
She moved to Notting Hill,
She said it was the place she needs to be,
Where the cocaine is fair-trade,
and frequently displayed,
is the Buena Vista Social Club CD
Song of the quintessential jilted small town boy. Perfect for anyone who has ever wandered through Hoxton with burning hatred in their eyes.
Give Me A Riot In The Summertime
They're wrapping flags around their backs
And getting into vans
The perfect soundtrack to rising support for the British National Party. Less discerning individuals prefer Skrewdriver.
Generals And Majors
Generals and Majors ah ah
like never before are tired of being actionless
Checkout girl or top military brass, everyone likes to feel busy. Fortunately for all concerned this song's complaint is now moot.
They're digging up human remains
In Notting Hill
Behind the screens, behind the wall
In our backgarden
The second mention for Notting Hill in a less than Richard Curtis context, and a fine reminder that quiet murder spans the class divide like little else.
Father's in the Garden
He's watering the flowers
Mother's on the telephone
She's calling Enoch Powell
The pop song equivalent of John Osborne's 'God Rot Tunbridge Wells'. Down with the bastard Daily Mail.
Scrape that stupid smile across your face
It's comedy time
Original target, the BBC. These days Channel 4 and Endemol make better targets.
And someday you'll learn to behave
Someday will be too late I'm afraid
'Cause there's no way you're coming home
A monument to never to be fulfilled good intentions. Think Jimmy Tomorrow in 'The Iceman Cometh'.
That Gary Glitter
he's a bad bad man
Ruining the reputation
of the Glitter Band
Giving sympathy to the real victims of the British tabloids' favourite kiddy fiddler, the poor bastards who - once upon a time - played in his band. These are the wretched of the earth, their every step dogged by crude innuendo, their radio play royalties decimated. Brother won't you spare a pound note?
We Hate the Kids
Every generation gets fooled again
And every generation is to blame
And its no good saying its not in your name
'cause it is in your name
Curses the generations old, new and to come. A fine caustic ending.
That wraps up contemporary England. Other suggestions will be welcomed Some will be considered, some will be ignored. Pitch in and enjoy yourselves.