I was caught in a world full of passion... couldn't breathe; couldn't leave... Prison walls surrounded me in all directions - confused the mind; suppressed affections.

I was trapped in a land of illusion; pinned to the ground by a force that I knew and recognised from long ago - in times of love we all should know.

And as I thought to free my mind: to release the chains - what did I find, but a love torn and tattered and battered and ruined? Romance is a miracle now...

Held in a whirlwind of oblivion; suspended before an audience of minions who watch with no emotion shown; who watch the end of all they've known.

And still they watch, and still they see. They stand as witness to the end of humanity, in all inanity; they don't appreciate all they see.

And back beyond the darkness of the night; before the loneliness and fright; beyond the dreams that came on love's seductive charms I pondered...

My love, I need you, endlessly. Yfere forever, just you and me. A love like ours should never die... hold out for love...


Well I was bored with playing footy all the time, cos it'd lost its appeal since I was referee and Martin kicked me in the bollocks for giving him a red card, so I went for a wander down to the yard by the flower beds to see if there were any like minded people down there who might want to create a new sport that didn't involve Martin or my bruised testicles.

And so I walked down the steps that led from the yard and she was there, french-skipping in the corner of the playground, and I knew straight away that on this very day I'd learnt there's more to life than playing football.

Well she looked at me and smiled, and my stomach upped and left me, and I neared her and said "hiya". She said "Would you like to play?" So I fumbled in my pockets. I said "Sorry, out the question. Boys don't play elastic. We haven't got the ankles for it."

Well we roped him in, and it raised a grin, and we were there, french-skipping in the corner of the playground, and the months went by, and soon that guy was coming round to my house for his tea.

(Well they were married on the little hill and Alan was the vicar. Playtimes came and went. They were the talk of the class. They sat apart in lessons but together during dinner. We all moved to the high school where they'd roll together in the grass.)

Our hearts went boom every afternoon when we'd be there, french-kissing in the corner of the playground, and I blew you away when you saw me that day in your room as I took off my uniform.

But then it all went pear-shaped when you saw that girl from Carlton, when she moved into our class at the start of the next year. You left me standing all alone after all we've been through, but I'll not forget the image that I got in chorus two.

And my heart goes boom every afternoon when I'm there, french-kissing in the corner of the playground. I'm sorry it's this way, but I'm sure you'll be ok. There's plenty more fish in the sea. Get yourself another lover, and let me get to mine. Just leave me be, french-kissing with my girlfriend.

Shut your face you, sanctamonious bastard. And at that point she showed me just how similar love and football can be.


Hey, yous! Me? Yes. Yous. Gimme your dinner money or I'll kick yer head in. But I take sandwiches. Well gimme your tuck shop money then. I don't go to the tuck shop. My mummy packs me up sufficiently. Bus fare? I walk. Do you have_any_ money on you? No. It might get lost. Credit cards? Sorry. I guess I'll just have to kick yer head in then. Have you considered a student loan? How do I do that? Well you go to Mrs Carlisle, the secretary, and she gives you one of these forms. Cool. Only this is the last one. It took them ages to find it and there's no delivery till... Giz it here or I'll smash yer stupid face in. You're dead meat, runt. No, Sammy. Don't hit me...

Stop right there!
I've been trapsing round the playground in my cheap, green, plastic mac. In the kitchens I have toiled, making children healthy snacks. I strive for truth and justice all through dinner times and breaks: a granny for hire, working well defined hours for the smallest of measly rates.

I've got a six pint ladle, got a friend named Mo, and I'm famed for my lumpy sago. I live with my family in a council flat and my daughter's academically slow.

But I'm here to help and to fight for what is right, though I'm soaked to the bone... I'm Mrs Roan.

So somebody tell me what is going on. I'll put things right then I'll be gone. And I'm free to help wherever I may roam... Cos I'm the blue rinsed one: I'm Mrs Roan.

She's the one we love, she's the one we crave, and she'll protect us to her grave. Show me the bully; let me see if he's brave...


Oyoo-oy, oyoo-oy, ay-oy. Oyoo-oy, oyoo-oy, ay-oy. Unbafafafa unbafafafa unbafafa oy. Unbafafafa unbafafafa unbafafa oy. Umshalashala umshalashala umshalashala grunda hey. Umshalashala unshalashula shamfaddyfaddyfaddy hey hey hey. Oh tits.


Why don't you come along on to my Pleasure Pier? We're gonna have some laughs. We're gonna drink some beers, or spirits or wines or whatever takes your fancy, although everybody here's a little drunk, standing over in the corner by the bunk.

Don't you worry if the furniture's leaning - it's a mad-house, and I'm a had mouse. It seems all logic is appauling and I'm gradually falling to the ground.

Well there's plenty of space and there's plenty of time. Why don't you spend the night here? Drink my home-made wine... There's several parties and I'm at them all, and the logic of it's starting to appaul (so softly), and everybody's having a real ball.

It's a crazy situation. My mind is really aching. See my house up in the light-house. The lads are giving in to the women and there's something going on... it's midnight.

The waves are splashing and the ships are passing and the moonlight's shining through. The wind is lashing and the tide is crashing on you - out on the beach - out in the blue...

So if you're still not here at my Pleasure Pier, you don't know what you're missing. Get yourself up here. And in the morning, if we haven't got headache, we'll go shopping and we'll by some candy-floss (it's kitsch and slinky). We're all happy and we couldn't give a toss (another drinky?). And at this time of year our takings show a loss.


If life's a game of scrabble then love is a trebble word score: there's one round every corner of the board, but it's bloody hard to get one when your letters are all crap. You've got to piece your words together to reach the edge, and life's like that. If life's a game and love's the prize then what we waiting for? We're gonna have a ball tonight.

Your mind is set, your aims are firm? Throw your battle plans away, cos where we're going you won't need them - they won't work your way. They say "try your best and do your thing, she's bound to come your way" but don't ever listen to a bloody word they say - they don't know anyway. And everybody says "look at you" as you do the things they say. I can see we're gonna have a ball tonight.

Action stations - there's a girl at the bar and she's looking in your way. Chances are she doesn't fancy you, but you don't give a bugger anyway. And you see her friend. She says "look at you, you look a real tart tonight." Seems to me we're gonna have a ball tonight.

And every hour of every day you've got to close your eyes and say that this is what you really wanted: this is what you really need. Well I assure you with the upmost conviction that it's something that we all should need: something that we all should heed, and I for one say life's a game with happiness the aim. Let's hope the future's bright tonight.

And as I walk into the room, I sense a deep pervading gloom that wells inside my aching heart. Although there's a maximum score of 16, the most I ever seem to manage is 8, and that's with a double-letter score and that's not all that great. But everybody says "look at me, we all got there in the end." Let's all have a ball tonight, cos everybody needs a lover or a friend. We're gonna have a ball tonight, come on, let's show them all tonight, we're gonna have a ball tonight. We're gonna party through the night. Come on, let's try to win the fight. We're gonna have a ball tonight.


Nostril hair? Over there? In a spare time share? Fair enough. In the rough, with no care: totally bare: not a thing on my amazing body. Bill Oddie stands in the corner. He shouts. He pouts. He glares. He stares. He is jealous of my nostril hair.


The times of the Hundred Acre Wood: Christopher Robin is gone for good. The Heffalumps organise fascist rallies and Christopher Robin's shacked up with Alice.

They visited Eeyore's grave today; the devil came and took him away; the land-lord said he had bills to pay: got depressed; couldn't take another day.

Now Piglet's the vicar and he reads the eulogy, although in '87, Piglet, he became a she, and in 1992 the cops took custody of Roo: Kanga was an unfit mother and now Roo has got another.

And what was once a hundred acres is now only six foot square. It isn't fair. As for the bear: he lived a life of gluttony; got rich upon the profits of TV rights and merchandise: self-centred economics. Got hooked on crack and heroin, and acid laced with honey. The markets crashed, his assets froze and now he's got no money.

As the timber left declines and now they've closed down all the mines, Owl's set to start emission: power from nuclear fission. Tigger did at first protest. Owl said "it's time you had a rest: I think that you'd enjoy a spell in a padded rubber cell." And now it's bouncy bouncy bouncy bouncy fun fun fun fun fun, and then a drop of valium.

And what was once a hundred acres is now frankly almost gone. oh what went wrong? Where has it gone?

Whatever happened to the river? We'd play Pooh-sticks all day long. They filled it full of chemicals and now all the fish are dead and gone. Rabbit got a girlfriend; the family's passed away: they gave them mixematosis. Only Small is remaining and the taxes he can't pay, and what was once a hundred acres is abandoned and forgot and the sign by the gate reads "Trespassers will be shot."


Caribbean Fun, Caribbean Sun; cruise around the islands. Caribbean Sun, Caribbean Fun; watch out for the sirens.

Cruise around the islands; basking all day long; have a little smoky in the evening, but don't get the girls wrong.

Look for the treasure of pirates; their galleons are very grand; chat up all the women in the evening but first catch some rays on the sand.