Monday, December 19, 2005

A HAT TRICK OF GONGS

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One day I'll have the hit I deserve and surrounded by beautiful girls, I will milk the applause at the music awards, I'll crack a few jokes and bang out some chords. And pick up a hat trick of gongs, for my sensitive heartbreaking songs. I'll dedicate my win to the bands you're all in, and from Wolfpack of One to Helen and Jim.

And then I'll go drinking with Sting. We'll stay up all night (not unusual for him). I'll laugh at the names that he's got in his phone, and wonder if Kravitz and Bono are home, and want to help out with this wine. It was a gift from the King of some African tribe. It tastes like the devil and makes you see ghosts, it raises the spirits while Sting raises a toast.

To my hundreds and thousands of fans, who bought tickets and t-shirts supporting the band: Who claim they saw me in provincial towns, long before my eponymous debut came out, and thought I was much bettter then, when my MySpace account didn't have any friends, when I was third on the bill to some dude in a skirt and only did songs about girls from my work, before the drink, the drugs and the money took hold, when I used to be funny, and wasn't just old.

Well I tried to revive my career on national TV. I did Celebrity Pig-Fuck on ITV3. With a disgraced politician that nobody knew, a blonde girl from Hollyoaks and Duncan from Blue. When I was evicted, they asked, "Where did it all go wrong?" I said, "Duncan from Blue, when I picked up a hat trick of gongs. A hat trick of gongs."

THE ANSWER'S WRONG AND THERE'S A LIGHT ON

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There is nothing quite as dark as a game show host with a broken heart. The questions that I ask aren't hard but they're tearing me apart. In one: Where did you go last night? In two: What was his hotel like? In three: Who was that other boy? Did you sleep with him for a bonus point?

You phoned a friend and said it didn't mean a thing. But if there's no conferring, why are you whispering? The answer's wrong, the answer's wrong and there's a light on.

Let's move on to the picture round. Can you place these photographs I found? I've drawn on moustaches and scratched out eyes to make them harder to recognise. Can I have your final answer? Do you want to gamble this away? Give up what you've got for just one more shot at a speedboat and a holiday.

I'm standing in your driveway wondering if he came round. My finger's on the buzzer but it just won't make a sound. The answer's wrong, the answer's wrong and there's a light on.

This is just a guess, but I don't think you know what you've done. After the break let's take a look at what you could've won. The answer's wrong, the answer's wrong and there's a light on.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

CHATEAUNEUF DU PACK

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Let's make mistakes and regrets. Let's get drunk and have sex. We'll deal with the fall-out in the morning. Let's quit our jobs and form a band (I hope your husband understands) let's call our friends and tell them that they're boring.

Because I'm not sure I care what the others think. Won't you come over here and pour me another drink?

You're such a pretty girl, and I know I'm not your type, but I told your friends from work that you won't be home tonight. And they said they didn't think you'd try so hard to resist. Hey, if this is only a kiss, you'll only regret it a bit...

Let's go back to mine, let's get a cab - all wandering hands and some cans in the back. I'll get the driver to stop at the bank in case you need some cash. Let's fall up the stairs, fumble for keys and pray that your flatmate is really asleep. Let's kiss once for luck and get too drunk to fully appreciate this.

I don't want this night to ever stop. Why don't I buy some cheap Turkish wine from the corner shop?

No, it's not a good idea. We won't make our parents proud. But we're all out of beer. And we're here now. So let's make the most of this time - we won't get the hours back. I'm not funny, you're not clever, come on let's spend the night together, drinking Chateauneuf du Pack.

GOOD IN BED

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You look so good in bed I want to phone your Mum. Tell her all the things we said, tell her all the things we've done. And then run. Before I come undone.

I am a little bit in love with you. And I'm sorry about that. I'm saying things before I think, you've got me acting like a twat. And that's nothing new, Except I'm over you. This time.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

LET'S JUST BE FRIENDS

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Well I must have asked you out every day now for a year, just to hear the excuses that you made. Like a striker low on confidence with a penalty to take, at least I made the keeper make a save.

Let’s just be friends, let’s just be. That suits me completely, that suits me well. Let’s just be friends, let’s just be. I’ll get back my weekends to wonder what might have been.

Your words were like a lovebite: they were embarrassing and hurt, and they seemed to make everybody laugh. Now I see them every morning when I’m buttoning my shirt and they sting me when I sing them in the bath.

Let’s just be friends, let’s just be. That suits me completely, that suits me well. Let’s just be friends, let’s just be. I’ll give you back your life and all your shit cds.

LOOK WHO'S STALKING 2

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Your name in my inbox gets me high. I’ve been trying to Photoshop you back into my life. I cut out your face and paste it next to mine, and hide beneath my spreadsheets whenever you walk by.

Horribly hung-over, I need a hot bath and a hug. But I take out all your photographs and chop them up like drugs. I’m sorry, I am sorry but I have seen your face, on other women’s bodies, all over the place.

And I, I see you out with other guys, and I fall to pieces every single time. And I regret all the texts I’ve ever sent and the stupid jokes I don’t tell well that you pretend to get. Who was that dude that you were talking to? Is he walking home with you?

THIS MAGICIAN'S SHIT

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Think of a number. Hold it in your mind. Remember our summer. Look into my eyes. Now, it’s me who’s going under. It gets too hard to run. He picked you like a card and showed you to everyone.

My glamorous assistant, I need your assistance now. I’m driving around in a clown car, and I’m the fucking clown. Oh, I saw you in his phonebook, and I heard your dirty laugh. I saw you in his window. He was sawing you in half.

I must admit it was quite an act: pulling money from your ears, pulling rabbits from his hat. But when you disappeared, no one here expected that. And this magician is too shit. He can’t bring you back.

Tell me, no, don’t tell me. This was all an illusion, and no one was fooled but me.

GET ME A CRANE

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North London after dark looks like Jurassic Park: it’s unbelievable, and it’s not on the tube. Now I don’t want to wake your friend up but my drink is shaking in its cup, and everything I say is going to sound rude.

Get me a crane, over this brontosaurus any day. I need a lift like a lion needs a mane. Get me a crane, when you go to get a beer. Get me a crane. Get me out of here.

What do I have to do, to just be here with you? What do I have to do to not die alone? I can’t get any answers from this unfriendly mastodon. Dinosaurs are fucking rubbish when they’re stoned.

Get me a crane, over this sauropod any day. I need a lift like a lion needs a mane. Get me a crane, when you go to get a beer. Get me a crane. Get me out of here.

WOLFPACK'S PARADISE

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As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I've got two missed calls and a couple of texts from a gang of hilariously hot brunettes who really want to know which pub we're going to next. And then they want to talk about a barbecue; do I want to go? Of course I fucking do. The charcoal's lit up at half past two. I'll bring the sausage if you buy booze..

Been waiting most my life just to get to Wolfpack's Paradise, where it's free in to the indie night, and all the girls are dressed up in stripy tights. Been waiting most my life just to get to Wolfpack's Paradise, and when you see me in the club tonight, lend me a tenner and I'll buy you a pint.

Minute after minute, hour after hour I've got some Fosters in the fridge and your sister in the shower. I've got the day off tomorrow and I would advise we watch Police Academy 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. I've been looking for a sturdy girl who won't fall down, she'll stop over whenever she's in town. Sometimes we sleep, sometimes we don't, sometimes we'll have a cup of tea and watch a video. But we'll always find time to do the things we like best of all, living our lives like a three-day festival, I only sing her songs because she deserves it and I'm only ever jealous 'cause she's worth it. Well, I'd better warn her I'm coming from my corner, Wolfpack of One putting his best paw forward. On Sunday afternoon I'm going to call her so we can have more roast than a premiership footballer.

Been waiting most my life just to get to Wolfpack's Paradise, it's you and me and a bottle of wine, a chicken tikka bhuna and a pilau rice. Been waiting most my life just to get to Wolfpack's Paradise, hey ladies! If you're not busy tonight, slide your assets over here and do what you like.

Commen t'allez vous? Je m'appelle Andre and I can rock a party 'till the break of day. Pump your fists now aujord'hui (and when I say that I mean everybody).

Been waiting most my life just to get to Wolfpack's Paradise.

Monday, July 25, 2005

U R BETTER THAN TELLY

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It came this morning: 28" of widescreen digital bliss, 900 stations and my bodyweight in boxes. I'd already planned my week: ten films and goals from the Nationwide league. It's you I didn't see.

You're better than telly, even if this is just one evening. The show I'm least expecting, I think it's worth repeating.

Normally when I sit on my sofa, I only lose remote controls. But now I know that you're coming over, I'm setting the video. I'm phoning the Radio Times, in case they didn't know, there's been a change to the scheduled show.

You're better than TV, even if this is just one evening. The show I'm least expecting, I think it's worth repeating. You're better than telly, oh my God! You feel so real, and these things just don't happen to me. These signals I'm receiving.

My telly looked unbeatable, but your set is so much better. I'm feeling unrepeatable, I hope I get a good reception.

THE 15 GREATEST THINGS WE EVER FOUND IN THE WOODS

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Me and another boy and somebody's brother (he was two years older and he cooked his own food). He found it funny that we always started running when he told us all the things we might find in the woods.

We found: One: a severed hand. Two: a porno mag. Three: some space for the aliens to land. Four: soggy cigarettes. Five: broken BMX. Six: Someone's sister to make me a man.

When we look back on this, we'll be adventurists, taking our place with the bears and the snakes. Flying like Luke and Han out past Alderaan, desperately looking for somewhere to land.

Well we played Pyromania and he tried to explain that some people like to live their lives a different way. He crafted a pentagram out of some cider cans, we chanted a mantra and tried not to look scared.

We found: Seven: a dirty word. Eight: a dead bird. Nine: unshot clays from the rifle range. Ten: a scary tree: Eleven: a part of me that always starts running when it gets afraid. Twelve: little evil imps (kick one and they all limp). Thirteen: a big friendly dinosaur. Fourteen: a gypsy curse. Fifteen: some pretty girls (well isn't that what we came into the woods for?)

When we look back on this, we'll be adventurists, taking our place with the bears and the snakes. Flying like Luke and Han out past Alderaan, desperately looking for somewhere to land.

Monday, January 24, 2005

THE ONE ABOUT GIRLS AND FAGS

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I've got to give you up like cigarettes, and I guess I'm coping. You know I still love smoking, but you'll kill me in the end. When a friend becomes an ex, it's never easy - and the book you're reading doesn't seem to help.

I know it's not grown up and I'm being a fool, but I saw you in the pub and I still thought you looked cool. But the heartache and the shaking won't be something I'll miss until I see you leave a restaurant on someone else's lips.

I've got to give you up like cigarettes, got to get your scent off my clothes, out of my hair. I' m trying to forget that you taste so good after sex, when you're lit up like a Christmas tree, God you make me catch my breath.

Now, leaving the house without you's going to be weird, but I hope in time my heart and maybe my mind will have cleared. Now I know you're the devil, and I am sure you exist, because you came into my life with a flame and a hiss.

I've got to give up on you baby because this thing has dragged on for ages. I'll try and think of the money I'm saving, but you smell amazing, and I still get cravings for you now.

SHE DOESN'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT

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She doesn't want to talk about it. He won't be the last one to come between us, and I've still got some problems I still want to discuss. She doesn't want to talk about it. She says it's been a long December and there's been too much said, but the night she can't remember is the night I can't forget.

And if I could be most anywhere, well I would be back there. Drinking in the [insert name of pub here] and playing with your hair. Forget my lines and Valentine's, and all the things I've seen. We'd get our kicks and steal a kiss way back in N16.

She doesn't want to talk about it, but I would do some press-ups for a girl like her. I'd clean my fucking mess up for a woman like her. I'd give up dungeons, give up dragons, give up all the fun I'm having for just one more chance of grabbing somebody like her.

I'd drag my ass through broken glass to be there by her side, I'd melt down all my records and tear the stars out of the sky. I'd give up the drink and have a long hard think about my life, if you would only call me later so we can talk about last night.

But she doesn't want to talk about it.

THE EVENING GUEST

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I'm the evening guest. I don't know the family that well. I sit at a table on my own. I stop in a different hotel.

And I'll come off the bench with my tie tied around my head (like Rambo) I am shooting at the band. I'm in the middle of the dancefloor, trying to get undressed, singing 'Do you think I'm sexy?' Oh yes.

I'm the evening guest, and I guess you wonder why I've come. Well I'm here to oversee a major buffet operation. I'm here to pester someone's Mum.

And I can't describe all the love I feel inside, or what I do for a living. But I know I want to dance with you 'til my feet turn black and blue - or until you give in.

I'm the evening guest.



HOW DO THEY STAY IN THE AIR?

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They look so beautiful that I might cry; engines glinting in the sun. But doesn't terminal mean I'm going to die? Just like runways mean I run. And what was that about Icarus, trying too close to the sun? Baby you and I, well, we were meant to fly. We've got wings instead of thumbs.

Girl I'm not afraid of flying, I'm just sick and tired of trying, It never seems to get me anywhere. I understand your diagrams, but they don't help my shaking hands. You need to know that I'm not scared. How do they stay in the air?

It's such a privilege to be by your side, I feel like a captain of the sky. I wanted to show you my frequent flyer miles, but when the 'seatbelts' light blacked out baby so did I.

God I'm not the praying type, but I might need a word tonight, these runway lights are giving me the fear. If this bastard ever lands, can I still hold this lady's hand? She needn't know that I'm so scared. How do they stay in the air?



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GET ON WITH IT WAGSTAFF

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Well, it was in the year 2000, or maybe 2001, I was acting 27, I was feeling 51, when I realised my real life wasn't really that much fun, so I bought myself a guitar and tried to write some songs.

At first it wasn't easy the words just wouldn't come, the chords all sounded maudlin; I should've bought a drum. But I'd booked a date and told my mates so I gave it my best shot. "After thirty years of hurt," they said, "is that really all you've got."

So I went back to the drawing board, and I wrote myself a joke, I told you that Puff Daddy died, you said "Diddy?" and I said, "no". It wasn't very funny but everybody seemed to laugh. now whenever I explain my pain there's sniggering at the bar.

And for a fat boy from a village, that made me feel like Sonic Youth, like my silly little stories hid some huge eternal truth, and when a girl I'd seen came up to me and said, "you're not that bad," well I realised that rock and roll's the best job I've ever had.

So I sold my soul for rock and roll. I didn't get much money, but at least I got to start the show.

WOLFPACK OF ONE'S GONNA BREAK YER BAKK

Here's an mp3 of it: click here

And, no, I'm not writing out the words...

Tuesday, February 16, 1999

Your History: STRAIGHT TO VIDEO

here's one from the vaults. Straight to Video as a free MP3.

Friday, February 16, 1990

Your History: Wychbold Lights

Here's one from about 1972. It's Wychbold Lights as an mp3.