1. |
Amnesiac Electorate
02:45
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Amnesiac electorate you have relapsed and left us with a system that worships television politicians.
Now that Hollywood has humanised our eighties demons, whatever next?
Danny Glover as Bobby Mugabe?
Phillip Seymour Hoffman is Slobodan Milosevic?
Amnesiac electorate as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, forgive us our trespasses and deliver us from Jeremy Hunt. Jeremy Hunt. Into whose homeopathic hands we have delivered the sacrificial fatted calf of the N.H.S.
Harold Shipman, minister for the N.H.S.
Dr. Joseph Goebbels is Communities Secretary.
Assume the brace position…
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2. |
Another Mr Lizard
02:11
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I am a black superhero. I ARE DALE CARNEGIE. I’m a serial fantasist assembled out of Airfix.
HA
I know a man who calls a spade a spade. He also calls a chisel a spade. He is an idiot and deserves our contempt. He is an idiot and has earned our contempt.
Black superhero.
Don’t be fooled by his affable grin. Don’t be fooled ‘cos he’s affable. He’s a Bullingdon motherfucker. A Bullingdon motherfucker.
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3. |
Hey Pauper!
03:56
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Hey Pauper! Your dignity makes excellent kindling.
Hey Pauper! Your self –respect is not edible.
Hey Pauper! Stop mithering. Hey Pauper! Stop grizzling.
Hey Pauper! Why don’t you eat your children, like animals do? Hey Pauper! What’s the matter? Don’t you like the taste of kiddie-meat?
Hey Pauper! Stop grizzling. Hey Pauper! Stop mithering.
In my house, dine on swan and wear wool to keep warm. Gather round the range, in my house, to keep warm. Let them eat Pannacotta, in my house, to keep warm. Don’t they realise that Ocado are extremely flexible?
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4. |
Postanova
02:18
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I see a riot-shield Testudo.
Yep.
With a shotgun snout.
It barks; it bites; it snaps; it snarls, at those uncovered throats.
I see a government silhouette.
Yep.
On the courtroom steps.
Although it wasn’t there, it ruptured unprotected chests and punctured lungs; severed spines.
Although little Vladdy’s marionette collapsed, he didn’t weep, he didn’t wail, he didn’t gnash his teeth. He just rebuilt those strings with barbed wire, vitriol and rhetoric. Barbed wire, vitriol and rhetoric.
Barbed wire.
Vitriol.
Rhetoric.
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5. |
Orwell
05:12
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At least we have the souvenir edition of the Daily Mail burnt on to our retinas and melting our cerebral cortex.
Driveway disputes. It doesn’t end well.
Inflammatory headline-spouting, jingoistic hearts a-beating, hanging out the Jubilee bunting, JEFFREY ARCHER NOVEL-READING. Objections to my new conservatory.
Hire-purchase Ford Granada. Fleur-de-Lys effect wallpaper. Interest-free instalment plan on Charles & Di commemorative china. It doesn’t end well. It doesn’t end.
Ghosts of council houses haunting soulless new towns. Twitching Laura Ashley curtains check the tax discs of your neighbours.
Ghosts of Labour councillors haunting empty working men’s clubs. Twitching Laura Ashley neighbours check the tax discs of your neighbours.
This is what you wanted. What you asked for. What you begged for.
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6. |
Everything: The Musical
02:57
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History: Rewritten by the least commercially successful.
Ha. The stubborn. Ha.
Don’t question my version of events I’m wearing pyjamas as an affectation. A cloak; a badge; a mask; a mask; a mask.
It’s improvised unless you witnessed the dress rehearsal and then it’s coincidence, not choreographed. CHOREOGRAPHED.
History: Rewritten by the worst dressed.
Ha. The slovenly. Ha.
Don’t question my version of events I’m wearing pyjamas as an affectation. A cloak; a badge; a mask; a mask; a mask.
It’s improvised unless you witnessed the dress rehearsal and then it’s coincidence, not choreographed. CHOREOGRAPHED.
And we’re all expanding.
History: Rewritten by the longest memories.
Ha. Stamina. Ha.
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7. |
Hurricane Colin
02:02
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Insert syringe under the ribs and collapse the diseased part of the lung. Artificial pneumothorax. Artificial. Insert syringe under the ribs and collapse the diseased part of the lung. Artificial pneumothorax. Artificial.
The Plague and I.
No reading, only smoking. No laughing., only smoking.
It is a source of protein.
The plague and I.
Para aminosalicylic acid tablets. Para aminosalicylic acid tablets. Para aminosalicylic.
Strip the enamel from your teeth. Strip the enamel.
Bronchoalveolar lavage. Your choice, nose or mouth.
Saw through the ribs if necessary.
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8. |
||||
I fucked a hippie and then I fucked another and then I fucked another but it’s ok ‘cos I employed a pseudonym.
I put the boot in. I put the boot in. I put the boot in but it’s ok ‘cos I employed a pseudonym.
I swung the baton. I swung the baton. I swung the baton but it’s ok ‘cos I employed a pseudonym.
Someone has been telling lies.
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9. |
Billericay
01:56
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this
is
my
baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaby
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10. |
A Eulogy of Sorts
02:50
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In Brixton: a poorly attended funeral. An obituary for no-one.
In the back of a bowling alley, in Billericay. The blank face of a moron. And another. And another moron.
And another moron.
In Kiev: a rehearsal studio. In Chernigev: a disused garage. In Dnepropetrovsk there is an art gallery surrounded by packs of wild dogs.
Surrounded by packs of wild dogs.
Well, well, well, well, well, well.
That was nine years well spent.
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11. |
I Am Become Oxford
04:31
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I am become Oxford.
I got a telegram. A telegram? A telegram. A telegram? A telegram. Who from? From a future-proofed tweed bunker in the city of the dreaming spires.
Pour Sloe gin. A Sloe gin. NOT SLOE DEATH.
Name the kids after dogs and the dogs after kids and the kids after dogs.
Lunch with a poet at the Organic Co-op.
I am become Oxford.
I am a monopolar depressive, descended from monopolar depressives that’s how come I write so good. I’m sitting in a cocktail lounge of my own re-appropriation surrounded by the creations of another creation, discussing creation.
This is no way to treat an animal.
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Fashoda Crisis London, UK
At all times Fashoda Crisis play from the bottom of their twisted, blackened tumourous little hearts. They spew forth vitriol and acerbic wit in equal measures, melding political rhetoric and social commentary with opaquely personal lyrics. Intelligent, violent, passionate, honest, spleen-rupturingly humourous (and modest, let’s not forget modest) genre mangling mentalists. ... more
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