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Mitch Benn
For those of you who've never heard of him (i.e. those of you who don't listen to Radio 4), Mitch Benn is Britain's premier musical comedy satirist. Considering the opposition, this isn't too difficult, but he is actually very good. The lyrics are only half of his genius - he's also clearly very musically literate, and can parody styles from punk and heavy metal to boy band pop. All the songs below are probably better if you actually listen to them, so go out and buy the album, or just listen to BBC 7.
Sometimes You Just Can't Move for Elton John |
The Boy Band Song
Ain't it funny how time flies,
Twenty minutes have gone by
Since I met these other guys.
And we've already had a hit,
And you're listening to it,
And I'm sure you think it sh... ould be number one already.
I'm the one who can actually sing,
I wanna get up and do my thing,
But they say that I musn't make the other guys look bad.
I'm the one who is quiet and shy,
They let me sing, but I don't know why.
And now the tune is wearing thin, the chorus should begin.
And we all sing the chorus together,
'Cause we can't do harmonies yet.
And this song will stick in your head forever,
Though you try so hard to forget.
I'm the one they hired to dance.
When they offered me the chance
To sing a verse, I said no thanks.
And I'm the one who wrote the song,
I'm wondering where the money's gone,
And do I need these hangers on?
I'm the one that the chicks desire,
The one who sets their pants on fire,
I don't need these ugly losers standing in my way.
I'm the one that the mums adore.
Are we going to split? Well I'm not quite sure,
But I think I'm going to slip and sign a solo deal today.
Well, I guess that it was fun while it lasted,
And at least we made number one.
For a minute we were all lucky bleeders,
But tomorrow, we're signing on.
Yes, tomorrow, we're signing on1.
1: Registering to receive unemployment benefit, or jobseekers' allowance, or whatever it's called this week.
Doctor Who Girl
I'm not going to try explaining this one. If you've never seen Doctor Who, just ignore this song entirely. In fact, if you've never seen Doctor Who, go straight to Amazon or somewhere and order some on DVD. Now. Go on - you'll be glad you did. Just don't get anything with Jon Pertwee or Colin Baker in it.
Everything I need to know, I learned from watching my TV,
But I'm afraid that it has had a serious effect on me.
My head's stuck in the seventies,
I can't be fashionable or hip,
And it has influenced what I look for
In all of my relationships.
Can't handle independent women with their modern ways,
I need a woman like the ones I saw on Saturdays.
Be my Doctor Who girl,
With a trusting face,
Patient and understanding
As I drag you through time and space.
My beautiful assistant,
To flash your eyes and toss your curls,
And tell me that I'm brilliant,
Be my Doctor Who girl.
Saturday afternoon - what excitement, what a rush,
Between the end of Final Score and the start of Basil Brush.
I loved the show, I loved the tune,
I loved the scarf, I loved the hat,
I loved the girls, I told myself
One day I'd have a girl like that.
Behind my sofa there's a special place that we can hide;
You'll find my love is bigger on the inside than the outside.
Be my Doctor Who girl,
We'll make a real good team,
I'll do all the thinking,
You'll look good in shorts and scream.
Give me someone to rescue,
Get changed and give us all a twirl,
Keep quiet and never argue,
Be my Doctor Who girl.
Be my Doctor Who girl,
Follow me a lot,
Ask me heaps of questions,
So I can explain the plot.
Say you'll stand beside me,
Say you'll help me save the world,
Fall and twist your ankle,
Be my Doctor Who girl.
Hardest Song in the World
This is the hardest song in the world to find,
This is the hardest song in the world to find.
It first saw the light of day as a fanclub-only Flexidisc,
Although nowadays you won't find even one,
Because the plastic they were made of was extremely volatile,
It used to self-combust if left out in the sun.
It turned up on a compilation that was banned before release,
The manufacturers were forced to pulp them all.
Then it came out on the B-side of a top-ten selling hit,
But only on the version issued in Nepal.
This is the hardest song in the world to find,
This is the hardest song in the world to find.
Then a few years later on a bootleg copy did the rounds,
Though a rumour quickly spread that it was cursed,
Because anyone who heard it would drop dead in seven days
Unless they made another copy of it first.
Then just last year an MP3 attachment started to appear
In people's email inboxes, but I'm afraid
It came infected with a virus that erased your whole hard drive
Twenty seconds after the first time it was played.
This is the hardest song in the world to find,
This is the hardest song in the world to find.
Everybody thinks this song is lost forever, but not so,
There's one mint vinyl copy left, and I believe
That it's in a shop that sells old tapes and second-hand LPs
On Camden High Street, stuffed in the wrong sleeve.
And the owner and proprietor's the only one who knows
Which sleeve it's in, but he won't give the game away,
Because he had a stroke this morning, he's in intensive care right now,
I don't think he's feeling well enough to say.
This is the hardest song in the world to find,
This is the hardest song in the world to find.
Ikea
For those of you who don't know what Mitch Benn looks like, or are blind, or can't be arsed to Google for a photo of him, just listen to this song and imagine the kind of bloke who should be singing it. If your mental image is of a large, long-haired, bearded, Viking-type fellow, well done. You have just correctly imagined Mitch. I think that's a good thing.
By the way, if you've heard this song - that's not Mitch's usual accent. I think it's meant to be Swedish (no offence to the man, but he does sound that little bit like a cross between Swedish Chef from the Muppets and the English policeman from 'Allo Allo').
We come from the lands of the snow and ice
And gods of war and thunder;
With a swing of an oar, we would reach your shore
And pillage, rob and plunder.
We were ravishers of women, and capturers of kings,
But now we're friends, we make amends,
We fill your homes with lots of groovy things.
Ikea!
We'll get your houses looking sleek and modern, that's for sure.
Ikea!
We're conquering the world with our self-assembly flat-packed furniture.
You can maximise your living space and brighten up your walls,
Or just have a cup of coffee, and perhaps some nice meat balls,
And if you haven't killed each other by the time you get to pay,
Perhaps you'd like to know who made us what we are today.
Our boss is Ingvar Kamprad, he takes his vodka straight,
He's been our fearless leader since nineteen fifty-eight.
Now he has over sixty billion dollars in his grip,
He makes Bill Gates look second-rate -
Ja, screw him, and his stupid paperclip!
Ikea!
Our CEO is a legendary Viking entrepreneur.
Ikea!
We're conquering the world with our self-assembly flat-packed furniture.
Ikea!
Imagine You Were Mine
I realised on the day we met
You were the kind of girl I could never get,
'Cause I was creepy and unpopular,
But at least I had my binoculars.
I was waitin', mopin',
Wishin', hopin'
You would leave your curtains open,
And I knew I would be just fine,
If I just imagined you were mine.
It was almost like a dream come true
When I moved in right next door to you.
I didn't think you'd notice at all
When I drilled those holes in your bathroom wall.
I could watch you growing,
Never knowing
Where your underwear kept going,
And as you checked your washing line,
I would sit and imagine you were mine.
If only I could make you listen, if we could be friends,
I'd get rid of my night-vision goggles and long-distance lens.
I still recall the words you said,
When you found me hiding beneath your bed.
I offered you my undying love,
And my waders, trenchcoat, and surgical gloves.
Now I ask my warder,
Why you soughta
Take out that restraining order,
And though I'm locked in a six by nine,
I can still imagine you are mine.
I'm out in eight months time,
Until then I'll imagine you are mine.
Lonesome Fuhrer
Mitch cites Tom Lehrer as one of his main influences. Looking at some of the ingenious (and tortuous) rhymes in this song, you can see the influence clearly. Incidentally, talking of rhymes, Mitch holds the record for most words rhymed with orange in a comedy rap song on Radio 4. in case you were wondering, the lyrics go 'Everybody knows ain't nothing rhymes with orange/Doesn't matter how much imagination or ing/enuity you use, even words that are foreign j/ust better let it go/Ain't nothing rhymes with orange.'
I'm tired of invadin',
Oppressin' and degradin',
And exterminatin'
My foes.
I'm tired of all these fellas
Singin' 'Deutschland Uber Alles'
And heilin' me everyplace I go.
I'll abandon my battalions,
Leave the war to the Italians,
Saddle up my stallion
And ride.
Yesiree,
That sure looks fun to me,
Ridin' through the country
And some other people's countries besides.
I am just a lonesome Fuhrer,
But this ain't the life for me.
And I couldn't be much surer
It's a cowboy I wanna be.
I don't wanna hunker
Down here in my bunker -
I feel like a monk or
Something.
I would rather roam far,
Where the cactuses are,
And strum my guitar
And sing.
I'd be gay and merry
As I rode 'cross the prarie
And forget the Ary-
an race.
'Cause the rumble of tanks
Means the Russians, Brits and Yanks
Are just a coupla miles from this place.
I am just a lonesome Fuhrer,
But this ain't the job that suits:
I don't think I can endure a-
nother second in these boots.
I am just a lonesome Fuhrer,
But I wish I could roam free.
Though the master race is purer,
It's a cowboy I wanna be.
Macbeth (My Name Is)
I wanna tell you a story full of blood, murder and death
My name is
Macbeth.
I was the baddest motherf----- in Scotland,
(Which-land? Where-land? Who land? What-land?)
I won a battle at the head of my legions,
Showing my allegiance
Slapping down Norwegians.
Bearing a grievance
They came to attack,
But ain't nobody f--- with
Big Mac.
On my way home I met these three mystic bitches,
Of the kind in those days that were commonly referred to as witches.
And they gave me some news I had not been seeking,
They told me one day I would eventually be king.
(Who, me?)
They got the other part right about being the Thane of Cawdor,
And I started thinking thoughts that I knew I shouldn'ta outghta.
(Uh-oh)
I shared the good news with my good lady,
I was getting kinda scared, but she stayed slim and shady.
She said, "What d'you owe this king?
And why you wanna be so nice to him?
If you'd left it up to me I already woulda iced him!"
She was goin' on and on and on, and it was startin' to bore me,
And about then I think I saw a dagger before me.
If there's one thing I just can't stand it's naggers,
So I done the deed, and she ditched the daggers.
My name is, my name is, my name is
Macbeth.
Hi, My name is
What? My name is
Who? My name is
Macbeth.
Now I had the crown, but I didn't feel like no winner,
I wiped my best buddy Banquo, but he still turned up at dinner.
I went back to the witches, though this time they did not expect me,
Some spirits gave me some knowledge they said would protect me.
They said: "You're cool till the trees come attackin' your castle,
Watch out for Macduff." Man, I knew he was an asshole.
"Though your deeds may be dark, and your doings despicable,
By man born of woman your ass is not kickable."
I came swaggerin' home with my new information,
Had Macduff's family murdered by way of celebration.
Hi, My name is
What? My name is
Who? My name is
Macbeth.
Hi, My name is
Hail! My name is
Avaunt! My name is (See you!)
Macbeth.
Now, Malcolm was the name of the old king's son,
And on the day I done his dada in, to England he had run.
And ever since then, well I hadn't heard jack,
But now he was back,
To attack
And harass the Mac
With a pack
Of Sassenachs.
(Hello!)
My knees were knockin', my head was hurtin',
My defences were down and my troops were desertin';
I strapped on my armour, my mood was improvin',
Till some kid said, "Check it out dude, the trees are movin'."
(What?!)
The thanes
Were strainin' my brain,
They were feelin' the pain,
They decided they didn't haveta.
My lady went crazy and done herself in,
She shoulda died hereafter.
There might have been a time to feel some pain or sorrow,
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
Hey, Macduff,
What is your problem man? Where is it that you get off?
You break into my castle trying to cut my f---ing head off?
Yeah, give it your best shot,
Lay it on, you nut,
No man born of woman can kick this butt!
Turns out my charm didn't offer no protection,
Motherf----- was delivered by caesarian section.
(Damn.)
That's the last you'll hear from me, all things bein' equal,
Till some dumb motherf----- decides to write a sequel.
Never Mind the Song (Look at the Stage Set)
To the left of the stage,
There's a beast in a cage,
Who breaks loose and starts charging around.
And to make me look strong,
I break off mid-song,
And I wrestle the beast to the ground.
There's a backdrop of fire,
Burning higher and higher:
It gives off a sulphury smell.
It looks really great,
And it helps to create
A convincing depiction of Hell.
A huge rubber Satan
Has started inflatin',
He towers up over the drums.
And pyrotechnics and stuff
Make a bang loud enough
To rattle your teeth from your gums.
This incredible set
Is the best vision yet
Of our stage-designer's craft.
And it helps to distract
The crowd from the fact
That the music is really quite daft.
Never mind the song, look at the stage set,
Never mind the song, look at the stage set.
Never mind the song, look at the stage set,
Never mind the song, look at the stage set.
And now the guitarist takes centre-stage
To play something tricky and flash.
Though it's a terrible din it
Gives me a minute
To nip off backstage for a slash.
A few seconds of Iron Maiden-esque noodling
You git, that was not long enough,
You know I can't hold it all night.
Ah, now I've wet my keks1,
Curse the gods of Spandex
For making these trousers so tight!
Ah well, nearly done,
It's been stupid but fun,
Time we were hitting the road.
I'll do the finale
On my flying Harley,
And that's when the speakers explode!
Never mind the song, look at the stage set,
Never mind the song, look at the stage set.
Never mind the song, look at the stage set,
Never mind the song, look at the stage set.
Keks - English slang for pants.
Pants - English word for underpants.
Underpants - English word... anyway...
Now He's Gone
For those of you wondering, it isn't Mitch singing this one. You may have worked that out for yourself. It is, in fact, one of Mitch Benn's backing group, the Distractions. I think, and I have a fifty-fifty chance of being right, that it's bassist Kirsty Newton. Knowing my guesses, it'll be the other one (Tash Baylis).
His name was Jonny,
We met at the junior prom.
My friends all thought he was peachy
And so did my mom.
And though he said that he would always stand by me,
Somehow I could tell that it was never meant to be.
So I cut the brake cables
Of his Harley Davidson.
His name was Eddie,
He worked on the hamburger stand.
He saw me smiling,
And soon he was holding my hand.
And though he swore that he would never let me down,
I couldn't take the chance that he would start to run around,
So I poisoned his milkshake -
I'm sure that he'd understand.
Now he's gone,
Now he's gone,
I don't have to worry that he might be doing me wrong.
His name was Jimmy,
We met at the drive-in last night.
We went for a walk
On the shore by the silver moonlight.
And I could tell I would be broken-hearted if,
He ever tried to leave me, so I pushed him off a cliff.
As he called out my name,
I knew everything would be alright.
Now he's gone,
Now he's gone,
But he will live on in my heart and that's where he belongs.
Now he's gone,
Now he's gone,
Out love will live forever from now on.
Radiohead Idol
We are seeking applicants
To be our Radiohead Idol:
Young and keen and talented,
Pale and thin and suicidal.
You could be the one that we
Will crown the new sensation,
Have you got what it takes to drive
Your fans to acts of self-mutilation?
We'll consider all who come,
From basket-case to new beginner,
And in the end the one who gets
The fewest votes will be the winner.
Rock and Roll Hall of Death
As an aid to comprehension, I have included below a list of the death dates and causes of death of the rock and pop stars included in the song. I hope you find it useful.
Please show your tickets at the window as you come inside.
My name is Nigel and I'll be your tour guide,
I'll be happy to answer questions on anything that's shown.
First we've got a big surprise, I'd rather not spoil it,
Oh well, all right, it's Elvis Presley1's toilet,
So you can all re-enact the moment the King fell off his throne.
All those stars who made all those groovy sounds
Still live on, though they're six feet underground.
Come and see how they took their final breath,
At the Rock and Roll Hall of Death.
See the pills that Karen Carpenter2 took to stay skinny,
Gene Vincent3's
motorbike and Marc Bolan4's mini,
Take a ride in Eddie Cochran5
's taxi or Buddy Holly6's plane.
See Sid Vicious7's syringes and a little bit later on,
The very vomit Jimi Hendrix8 choked on,
Jim Morrison9
's rubber duck, and a spattering of Kurt Cobain10.
All those stars who wrote all those timeless tunes,
We still love them, except perhaps Keith Moon11.
They lived fast, died young, and we got all that's left,
In the Rock and Roll Hall of Death.
We've got Mama Cass12
's sandwich box and Brian Jones13's flippers,
Freddie Mercury14's moustache comb and clippers,
But I'm sorry to say that isn't the saddest thing in here.
Look behind the 3D mobile of Michael Hutchence15,
Past the space reserved for Martine McCutcheon16,
There's a small, unmarked urn in which we keep Peter Andre's career17.
All those stars we all loved throughout the years,
We hold on to the things that brought them here -
Be it booze, guns, cars, heroin or crystal meth -
To the Rock and Roll Hall of Death.
1: 1977 - prescription drug abuse whilst on the toilet.
2: 1983 - heart failure due to anorexia nervosa.
3: 1971 - ulcer.
4: 1977 - crashed into tree in Mini.
5: 1960 - taxi crash on the way to the airport.
6: 1959 - the famous plane crash.
7: 1979 - heroin overdose.
8: 1970 - choked on his own vomit.
9: 1971 - alleged drug overdose in the bath.
10: 1994 - suicide by shotgun.
11: 1978 - overdose on anti-seizure medication.
12: 1974 - alleged ham sandwich asphixiation (in fact, this is an urban legend).
13: 1969 - drowned in swimming pool.
14: 1991 - AIDS.
15: 1997 - suicide by hanging (alleged to be autoerotic asphyxiation).
16: 2012 - botulism due to botched cosmetic surgery.
17: 1998 - soundtrack to 'The Little Mermaid'.
Somestimes You Just Can't Move for Elton John
The radio is playing tracks from his new CD,
There's a retrospective tribute show right now on my TV.
Is there a single channel he's not appearing on?
He seems to pop up everywhere; sometimes you just can't move for Elton John.
He's doing cameos in sitcoms, he's all over the news
With his opinions on Madonna and other forthright views.
All the young and trendy singers are covering his songs,
Or trying to do duets with him; sometimes you just can't move for Elton John.
And if it isn't him, it's Scissor Sisters copying his sound;
Sometimes I feel like Elton John is following me around.
Don't get me wrong, some of my favourite songs are his,
But right now I'm seeing more of him than David Furnish is.
He turns up on the television more and more it seems,
He turns up in commercials, he turns up in my dreams.
Late last night, I think I woke up singing out 'Your Song',
Or maybe it was 'Rocketman'; sometimes you just can't move for Elton John.
Steal This Song
As something of an experiment, I've taken Mitch at his word, and I intend to wait and see what happens. Click on the green icon to steal this Steal This Song song.
Steal this song,
Tape it for all your friends and relatives
On cheap cassettes,
Or better yet,
Change half the words and say you wrote it.
Steal this song,
Flog it at car boot sales or at record fairs,
Or better yet,
Post it on the net,
So everybody can download it.
Why would I think my taste in music's more informed than yours is?
Home taping isn't killing music, music's dying of natural causes.
Steal this song,
Make thousands of pirate copies on CD-R,
Or MiniDisc,
It's worth the risk:
I promise that I'll never sue.
Steal this song,
I hope that it makes you rich, it's really all
The same to me,
Because, you see,
I stole it before you.
This Ain't Your Country Any More
Hey, all you Democrats,
Hey, all you bleedin' hearts:
This sure ain't where it ends,
This is just where it starts.
Guess things seem different on the coast,
Hell, yes, I'm sure they do;
We're the people of the heartland,
We've got some news for you:
This ain't your country any more,
Y'all suspected this before.
But now you really know the score.
This ain't your country any more.
Go breathe some fresh Canadian air,
We hear they like your kind up there,
We know you're feelin' pretty sore,
This ain't your country any more.
This ain't the land of liberals,
It's the land of Liberty.
This here's the Home of the Brave,
Not homosexuality.
It's the land of Jerry Falwell,
SUVs and the NRA.
And If you don't like where it's headed,
Ain't no-one asking you to stay.
This ain't your country any more,
Go find someplace else to explore,
You sandal-wearin', book-readin' bores,
This ain't your country any more.
You Commie traitors, I believe
Your time is up, you better leave.
Whatcha hangin' round here for?
This ain't your country any more.
All you Pinko pussies, all you hippy scum,
You better hit the trail, boy, your time is gonna come.
We are God's chosen people: stand tall, shout out loud,
We're mean, we're paranoid, we're stupid and we're proud.
This ain't your country any more,
Hey Bruce Springsteen, hey, Michael Moore,
Don't get your ass caught in the door,
This ain't your country any more.
You intellectuals, freaks and queers
Don't wanna see y'all round here
Unless you want another war,
This ain't your country any more.
This ain't your country any more.
(Spoken)
Go on now, head on out. Jesus is a-comin', and he's armed.
Too Much Money
What do you buy yourself when you're the man
Who has two or three of everything?
My accountant swindled six million quid from me
And I never noticed a thing.
I got mansions all over the world,
Some in places I've never been;
I gave millions to charity,
Now my disgusting wealth is merely obscene.
Too much money! Too much money!
What is the point of being fabulously wealthy
If you can't go crazy once in a while?
I liked my credit card so much I bought the company,
My car does thirty gallons a mile.
My latest tax dodge is I have to spend six months a year
Unconscious for the rest of my life,
I bought my wife a brand new pair of tits for Christmas,
Then I bought myself a brand new wife:
Too much money! Too much money!
So loaded (x8)
I've got more pointless trashy knick-knacks in my house
Than Liberace or Elvis would have,
My garden covers forty-five percent of Berkshire,
There's a Van Gogh in my downstairs lav.
In the kitchen everything is automated,
Activated by the sound of my voice.
I've got a Rolls-Royce in my swimming pool,
I got a swimming pool in my Rolls-Royce.
Too much money! Too much money!
Too much money! Too much money!
Waving at the Poor
So, I'm standing in the desert getting gradually dried,
I hope these bloody cameras get my good side.
These starving people have an arrangement with me,
They make me look good, I get them on TV.
I make my best sad face and try not to look too bored.
I might act like a saint, but I know that I ain't,
I'm just waving at the poor, waving at the poor.
So, there's a little orphan boy whose war-wounds will never heal,
This place was his home before it was a battlefield.
We cast a mournful glance around what's left of his inheritance,
I shed a couple of tears, then head back to the Sheridan.
If I weren't here, all this suffering would be ignored:
Though my emotions are fake, that's the difference I make
By waving at the poor, waving at the poor.
If I wanted to help, if I knew what that means,
I'd bury some bodies, I'd dig some latrines,
I'd tend to the dying, relieve the suffering and pain,
But the cameras are gone, get me back on the plane!
I could feed and clothe and house and cure everybody here,
For roughly what I spend on cocaine in a year,
But I'm raising awareness, that's what it's all about -
Did I mention that I have a new album coming out?
Hey, that reminds me - must remember to plug the tour.
It nearly slipped from my brain under the terrible strain
Of waving at the poor, waving at the poor.
Waving, waving at the poor. (repeat to fade)