My review: Proline DM1945MP3 personal CD/MP3 player ►

◄ Down memory lane with my favourite Wildhearts album

...so now would be a good time to skip to another entry if you're offended by, well, anything in the English language. The GAF (the Grubby Adipose Flange) were a surprisingly long-lived Aberystwythian band whose spiritual genre affiliation could probably best be described as "comedy folk-punk".

I'm gradually transcribing lyrics as I'd like to do a modest GAF section sometime in future, although I'm having a bit of trouble with "Ode to Captain Oates", "The Granny Song", and "The Day I Painted My Penis Blue".

ODE TO RUNNING FERREL

Need me some exercise, I don incontinence pants.
I've got great legs, and a bottle of cheap brandy.
So come out for a run today, we'll go into the bar.
Come out for a run today, I always take things too far.
I'll share with you my pearls of wisdom and if you don't listen I'll swear.
I would chase fast, fast women, but my hips are plastic.

Oh who's your daddy now?
Who's your daddy nooooow?
Who's your daddy now?
Who's your daddy noooow?

I keep the bar staff entertained, I run around all day.
With a colostomy bag at my hip, I'm the daddy now!

Oh who's your daddy now?
Who's your daddy nooooow?
Who's your daddy now?
Who's your daddy noooow?
Who's your daddy now?
Who's your daddy nooooow?
Who's your daddy now?
Who's your daddy noooow?

Who's the daddy? Who's the daddy?
Who's the daddy? Who's the daddy NOW?

... Who's your daddy nooooooow? ...

That one went down a treat at Anthony & Fraisa's wedding. :)

ANTHROPOLOGICAL INTERLUDE

I don't want to be an anthropologist, anthropology is first on my shit list; it has been there for many a great and wise philanthropist, I've tried being an archaeologist and it made my a cynicalist, and the postmodernist deconstructionist and economist made quick work of the conspiratorialist and out on a limb with the political anyalyst in the midst of debate for they were anacaleptacist, my knees are made from farcicalist post-contraduced wood, I'm a naturalist and an exploitist, my mother was a journalist, she made the world seem utilitarianist, she was positivist, she gave me a philosophy that was probably neo-liberalist, that was pretty Stalinist, but really Trotskyist, but not really Marxist, territorialist, perhaps pre-capitalist and ageist in all its materialist ways it was marginalist. I don't want to be a gynocologist, or would I be a hedonist and a protagonist operating on a cyst which just persists to be a percussionist. I'm not an optimist or a pessimist infallible herbalist or would be reminisced of my days as an environmentalist; I just fancy being a meteorologist or a vulcanologist; hang out with ornithologists and orthodontists and optomotrists, or would I be missed at parties full of dadoists, nihilists fucking geologists, but would that be minimalist for expansionists who wish to murder horticulturalists, and what about Satanists, antagonists, sensationalists, bigamists; rot in hell with defeatists, they're all mentalists.

I'm not sure about that "farcicalist post-contraduced wood" bit...

THE GOTH SONG

You know how it is...
A night out with the lads...
You dress all in black...
And wear nice pink CKs...

Oh, blokes shouldn't wear makeup...
No, blokes shouldn't wear makeup...
No! Blokes shouldn't wear makeup!
Yeah, and I don't like Star Trek...

'Cause being a goth is cool,
And being a goth is hard...
but what's the point when you're
Wearing 6-inch platforms?

You'll never get a job at Miss Selfridges...
No, you'll never get a job at Miss Selfridges!
Yes, you'll never get a job at Miss Selfridges!
Marilyn Manson, what's that all about?

All goths are really nice people
Although they wear offensive shoes.
But I don't see the point of
Filling your face with ugly steel rings...

No! You! Shouldn't pierce your face!
No! You! Shouldn't pierce your face!
No! You! Shouldn't pierce your face!
Yeah, and you're a goddamn communist...

Goths never hear the lyrics—
But it doesn't matter, it's well chic.
Why not say words like poo-poo or wee-wee?
They are amusing...

No, you'll never get a job at Miss Selfridges!
And no! You! Shouldn't pierce your face!
And no! Blokes shouldn't wear makeup!
Yeah! And you're a goddamn communist!

Last chance to stop reading...

THE S O N G SONG

I C U R, I C U R, I C U R a C U N T
I C U R, I C U R, I C U R a C U N T
I C U R, I C U R, I C U R
I C U R, I C U R, I C U R a C U N T

You won't stick your fingers up my arse
Well you're a W A N K E R
I'm sorry I fart during sex
But I'm under D U R E double S

I love you with all the letters of the alphabet (x4)
[interspersed with first verse]

Get the fuck out of my way of the TV
Move your big F L A N G E
I've forgotten the next lyric,
I'm really sorry!

I love you with all the letters of the alphabet (x4)
[interspersed with first verse]

I want to R A P E your A R S E
With a S W O R D
I know you want to cum in my mouth
But unfortunately it makes me feel sick

I love you with all the letters of the alphabet (x4)
[interspersed with first verse]

And that's all the ones without gaps right now...

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