Billy got the elbow Susan wanted someone taller Forlorn, forsworn, he went to sea Became a bingo caller Compered wet T shirt contests Ran the karaoke machine And yearned to fill the boiler room With nitroglycerine Looked wistfully for icebergs On the Caribbean waves From time to time nudged OAPs To oceanic graves If only he'd been taller Or at least worn platform shoes He could have stayed at home in Blighty With his childhood sweetheart, Suze Getting pissed and making babies On the grubby eiderdown In their fashionable shithole In the heart of Chickentown Instead he's swabbing vomit from the decks For all eternity Yes it's happy ever after In the service industry. Daisy wed a footballer Who kicked her, tore her dress He slept, she wept, fled to the skies A long haul stewardess Learned to flirt with businessmen As she served their meals on wheels And the Rank charm school deportment style For turbulence in heels Got her arse pinched daily As she trolleyed down the aisle Deflected lewd suggestions With a fixed and glassy smile Got the habit of responding With polite but pointed snubs To First Class insinuations She should join the Mile High Club Finally lost it with some leering twat But he turned out to be gay... And famously litigious... And the chairman of BA So she fucked off back to Beasley Street Where they've got a Starbucks now She's frothing cappuccinos And bidding customers 'ciao' On a zero hours contract With a physics PhD She’ll be happy ever after In the service industry. Amit worked in telesales By night cruised leather bars Sipping alcopops for courage Sucking strangers off in cars Thought there might be some percentage From his twilight undertaking Earn a few bob while swirling In a cesspool of his own making Put an advert on the internet Saying he was willing to go down For the price of a pack of Woodbines And a pint of Newcy Brown All work is prostitution, right? And he'd do it anyway Less demeaning than his other life In a call centre all day But he got lured to the canal side By some thugs from the BNP Spent the next month in a coma In the Royal Infirmary Makes slightly better money as a Triple amputee Happy ever fucking after In the service industry...

Let me tell you about Little Bo Peep I know you've heard the story How she lost her sheep But that story ain't the truth Little Bo Peep did not lose her sheep The truth is, Little Bo Peep never had any sheep Little Bo Peep was no shepherdess Little Bo Peep was a cowgirl Down in Utah, Arizona or Texas In the wide open, empty spaces In the Home of the Brave Little Bo Peep was a cowgirl A rider of the purple sage That summer, high and blue Although the streams weren't swollen She kept them doggies rollin' Little Bo Peep was a cowgirl And Little Bo Peep lost her cows She didn't rope, throw and brand 'em She tried to understand 'em No rings on their fingers No bells on their toes And now there's no music Wherever she goes No music Where she goes What good is a cowgirl with no cows? In the wide open, empty spaces? In the Home of the Brave? Little Bo Peep was no cowgirl She might as well have been a shepherdess Imagine the shame Imagine the shame Why do you think you've never heard this story? Why do you think? Imagine the shame Little Bo Peep Cowgirl Why do you think?

Come... Come... Come to the dance At Kalashnikov Hall Where the price of a beer Is a tear from your eye Where our truest delight At the end of the night Is to see lovers quarrel And watch passion die Meet Spanish Pete At his seat in the dark Where he's nursing a tumbler Of bitters and rye Broken-hearted, alone He should've stayed home But he never did learn To let sleeping dogs lie So he's back one more time To the scene of the crime Just to see Jet Boy Eddie Sour apple of his eye Eddie's one of those angels Or devils, or both, that you'll Always find plenty of Lurking nearby He's a dazzling sight In the glitterball's light Bumping, grinding, arms draped Round some other doomed guy Pete stalking his prey That's tonight's cabaret We won't have to wait long To see a grown man cry Come to the dance At Kalashnikov Hall Where friendship’s a poison That’s in short supply We’re all young and pretty And bitter and witty It’s a town without pity Just one long goodbye Pete’s out of his chair now, Propelled by despair And he’s too drunk to care If it all goes awry There’s still time to retreat To his home, to his seat But he never did learn To let sleeping dogs lie Pete staggers, unsteady As he squares up to Eddie And blearily, whimpering Begs to know why Jet Boy Eddie just sneers At his last victim’s tears He’s pointing and laughing And slapping his thigh His new boy joins in too And now me, and now you The performance is ending The moment is nigh We crowd around greedily Needing to feed On the money shot: Making a grown man cry He came to the dance At Kalashnikov Hall Where you’re lucky to leave Only wanting to die But he’ll be right back tomorrow To wallow in sorrow Cos he never did learn To let sleeping dogs... Lie...

Come in, do come in To my parlour, dear soul For a cup of Earl Grey And a slice of swiss roll Tell me dear, have you seen Who's moved in next door? It's caused quite a commotion They're hard to ignore With those clothes And that hair That unfeasible beard You know I'm no bigot But don't they seem weird? They're so noisy So ethnic So pungent So queer (How's the cake?) I don't think they'll fit in Around here They're seeking 'asylum' It said on the news Which means soon we'll be crawling With gypsies And Jews I've heard they eat horses And fricassee dogs Where they go They're soon followed By locusts And frogs They carry diseases They're riddled with lice And our little community Used to be nice Now they're here in the village Drinking pints in the bar They're putting up curtains And washing the car They're there in the post office Selling you stamps We should take them away We should put them in camps I mean *nice* camps Like butlin's Not Auschwitz, of course But they won't want to go We may have to use force Well you know me I don't like to make A big fuss But they just don't belong here They're just not like us With their racial and moral Degeneracy We have to *do* something... Would you like some more tea?

You know, I can't help wondering... Am I the worm pierced on the hook Or the fish that took the line? It's getting harder to divine Just where I fit in your design Am I the worm upon the hook? I liked to think I was your prey I guess I figured out too late The way that you use men, as bait And now I can't tell either way Was I the worm upon the hook? Was I the cheese inside the trap Or the mouse with broken back Was I a lover or a friend Or just another means to just another end?

On the third night before midwinter Ice daggers clothed the leafless forest Turning moonlight into Glitter beams among the trees And we came to the clearing Bone-tired and footsore With frost in our beards A footman in tailcoat and stovepipe hat Swept a low, sardonic bow And bade us welcome As we stepped into the circle Of the Queen of Sorrow's Ball. The night was dark But swarms of purple fireflies Flitted beneath the boughs And the ladies of the company danced A stately pavane in the snow To the rich hurdy gurdy drone Of a vulpine orchestra While their suitors smarmed and chittered Stiff-backed and double-jointed Sipping honey beer from ice goblets And laughed like tiny children With voices of broken glass. At the centre of the clearing At the centre of it all The Queen held court Bestowing a nod here A smile there Enchanting all who laid eyes on her None more than I As the night turned slowly to dawn And the festivities unwound She held my gaze and whispered: "Come back tomorrow." On the second night before midwinter Four of our party returned To feast and dance in the arctic night Beneath shimmering veils of green Waiters in silver And ushers in bronze With feather caps and formal coats Served acorn cups of spiced mulled wine And the ladies danced the sarabande While the gentlemen played at cards The Queen ran silken fingers through my hair And the courtiers averted their gaze As she leant down to me Lips brushing my ear To softly say: "Come back again, tomorrow" Which is why The night before midwinter I ventured back, myself alone To rejoin the merriment of the court Starlight rimed the Earth's white carapace And wolves bayed in the wood And in the clearing was music and laughter But no-one to be seen I swigged harsh brandy from my flask And listened to a lively gavotte From behind the curtain of the air Perched meekly on a fallen log And waited for the shortest day. She deigned to come, then, briefly And grant a final smile A flutter of the eyelashes A light caress, a kiss "Aren't you going to ask me To come back tomorrow night?" "No call for that," she laughed. "You're here now, that's what matters. It's the third time, that's the charm." And then, even as the ice crystals Started to spread inside me To cloud my vision and pierce my heart She turned carelessly away to her unseen companions and said: "Ladies, let's segue."

Smells of Mr Sheen Mothers Pride & margarine We stand hand in hand On the silver screen Feels like only yesterday Troubles seemed so far away We had perfect chemistry There was nothing more to say Like a romance magazine Photographed through Vaseline Spending happy hours With my beauty queen Smoking cigarettes And eating Soylent Green Eating Soylent Green Knights in white terylene Jousting for kerosene We were off our heads On methamphetamine Where'd you go my dear? I searched far and near Since you went away Nothing good can happen here Can't you see that girl? Won't you watch that scene? They're digging the dancing queen Digging the dancing queen Still it's happy hour And I'm eating Soylent Green Eating Soylent Green Fly my time machine To that ancient scene Waste another year Being seventeen Blinked and you were gone How to carry on? How to carry on? How to carry on? One more happy hour With the Acid Queen Drunk on Listerine Eating Soylent Green Loving you is like Eating Soylent Green Loving you is like…

Here they come From the sky! Watch those men, son In the sky Love them, hate them Men that can fly Trust those men, son They're the ones Black ties, gold wings Rich men, with guns White shirts, white teeth Smiling, sincere Bringing glad tidings of Sickness and fear Flee from those men, son Gliding to Earth Their hairstyles cost more Than our whole city's worth Love them but run away Know if you're caught They'll laugh and embrace you And kill you for sport Crusaders from Heaven In tailored silk suits And war's just one more Of their idle pursuits Worship and run away Don't even think twice It's all just a matter of Sacrifice Never look back, son That's what you must know Trust in those men, son And trust me, and go.