Pop 'n' Rock Stew Feb - Oct '04

I drove Tina Turner,
Was a nice little earner,
And I didn't once mention Ike.

'Be my private dancer,'
I said and her answer
Was 'next time I'll get on me bike.'

Playing golf with Robbie Williams,
I hit a ball straight on the green.
Robbie though was in the rough.
Time for him to vent his spleen.

For who plays golf for relaxation?
Who plays for the exercise?
If I was rich I'd stay at home,
Drinking beer and eating pies.

When I'm old and infirm and unable to move,
I'll be in a home with a punk/indie groove.

There's an ex-comedian who drops his ash,
And witters on about The Clash,
Who he saw in seventy-seven,
And he's waiting to see again in heaven.

A vegan woman spitting out orange piths,
Who quotes all the words of all songs by The Smiths.
A Morrissey poster adorns her wall,
She's willing a coma to end it all.

There's a man who's treated with mock derision,
Because he never 'got' Joy Division.
He wheels himself up and down the hall,
And shouts at the staff to 'play more of The Fall'.

But the staff are friendly and play all our songs.
Nobody's left out, we all sing along.
But the carers get nervous at our shakes and tics,
To 'Pretty Vacant' and 'Teenage Kicks'.

If ABBA were German,
And Benny was Herman,
And Bjorn was born Hans or Fritz.

Had no girls in the band,
And they sounded like Can,
Then they wouldn't have had any hits.

You'll never see Dido in a lido,
Or a giggling Sting on a swing,
Or Bono Vox with building blocks.
But Christ, can you hear them sing!

So Annie Lennox wins a gong
For a song I've never heard.
But you can bet this Annie's song
Is just another polished turd.