I Really Like Going To Festivals

My sleeping bag’s eroded,
My tent’s a little smelly,
A can of beer exploded,
I’ve only brought one welly.
The ground’s a bit uneven,
I left my shades in Kent,
And Stu’s been sick on Steven,
Who’s sleeping in my tent.
My phone is nearly dying,
The stage is really far,
A chunky girl is crying,
The sun-cream’s in the car.
My tent-flap keeps unfurling,
I didn’t bring a towel,
Stu just won’t stop hurling,
And Steven’s smelling foul.

Dancing Through Wales

We danced the fandango in Cardiff.
We boogied our way through the Heath.
We cha-cha-cha-ed all through Llanelli,
And all did the Hustle in Neath.
We jived and we funked down in Swansea.
We strutted our stuff in Llandaff.
We leapt around madly in Barry,
Then went for a swim in the Taf.

The Band That Changed The World

I remember that September,
I was seventeen and drunk.
Adulthood seemed a mile off,
I was getting into punk.
I had an old acoustic
And I’d learned some basic chords,
And was getting tips from strangers
On guitarists’ message boards.
We formed a band, The Toilets,
All convinced that we’d be stars.
Rehearsals weren’t too frequent
(We were getting into bars).
We could have been amazing,
It never quite transpired,
As when we weren’t all wasted
We were bleary-eyed and tired.
We worked hard on our image,
Though we didn’t play that well,
And tore a lot of clothing,
And spent too much on gel.
We thought that one day soonish
We’d get a massive deal,
And soon we’d all have mansions,
While still we’d keep it real.
We hadn’t any songs yet,
Just a logo and a name,
But knew that we’d be legends
So prepared ourselves for fame.
Months went by, and nothing.
We were slowly realising
That we had exams approaching
And were better off revising.
Our A-Levels arrived and went.
We’d all done fairly well.
I headed off to Glasgow,
Dave went to UCL.
Teddy had deferred a year
To go and do some travelling,
And Stu was bode for Cardiff.
I felt the band unravelling.
I took the plane to Scotland,
And as soon as I had landed,
I rang up all the others
And The Toilets were disbanded.
A good ten years have passed,
And we’re no longer seventeen,
Yet often I’ll still wonder what
The Toilets could have been.
Now we see each other rarely,
Though we still get on just fine.
I’m hoping for a comeback tour
In 2029.

Elvis Impersonator

A normal day inside the pub.
A man walked in the door.
Then suited up inside the loo
And Elvis took the floor.
The jumpsuit looked a little cheap,
His belt was unconvincing.
This looked a little awful.
A lot of us were wincing.
But then he started singing
And his voice was full of soul.
He was genuinely awesome
As the King of Rock’n'Roll.
It seems a little bleak though –
I’d rather fail as me
Than dazzle as a trucker’s son
From Memphis, Tennessee.

Mosh Pit

I like to go to metal shows, but don’t go near the pit.
I don’t like being drenched in other people’s sweat and shit.
I’m also kind of delicate, and weak, and I wear glasses,
And I don’t want them crushed under some chunky mosher’s arses.

The Results Are In

We’ll start off with the audience, then view you from a wide,
Then a close-up so we see you beaming, overwhelmed with pride.
And as you start to sing the crowd will burst into applause,
Which hopefully will cover any opening-note flaws.
This isn’t just a song – we want the audience in tears,
Simultaneously sad and swinging from the chandeliers.
It’s a happy song, but heart-breaking, so folks’ll be confused,
We want truly tragic smiles, we want a lot of tissues used.
Your performance will have audiences eating from your hands,
Overwhelmed by twin emotions no-one really understands.
Your voice will crack at one point like you really are upset,
And we’ll have some TV magic that no viewer will forget.
And you’ll stand up from the stool just as you start the second verse,
And the grannies who are crying will start crying slightly worse.
Smile with sadness in your eyes and walk across the studio floor
And the tears upon the nation’s cheeks will flow a little more.
Then the stagehands cut the wires and the balloons fall from the ceiling,
And we’ve basically controlled how fifteen million are feeling.

Solo Gig

I’ve been abandoned by my friends, it’s all gone slightly wrong.
I have a feeling that this gig just might feel really long.
I don’t know how to act at things when I’m all on my own.
If I was somewhere quieter I’d fiddle with my phone.
And since, you know, you’re at a gig, you have to get a drink,
But then see people watching you and wonder what they think.
No singalongs from me tonight, no dancing like a star,
I’m staying within fifteen feet of where the exits are.

I Started A Band

I started a band as the singer,
Though I didn’t sing so much as shout.
But it turned out the bassist could do that,
So the drummer and him threw me out.

30 Almost-Good Band Names

The Sleeping Dicks, The Horsemen,
Mutes That Learned To Talk,
The Homo Fire, The Meth Clowns,
Hitler Was A Dork,
The Mangoloids, The Adults,
Trinidaddies Sauce,
The Brick-teasers, The Moonmen,
Bentrifugal Force,
The Happy Girls, The Monsters,
Gary And The Tramps,
The Monobrows, The Toilets,
The Cheeky Little Scamps,
The Nasty Dudes, The Quiches,
The Girls Who Don’t Like God,
The Arsonists, The Melons,
The Disco Plumber Squad,
The Virgin Sluts, The Gun Dogs,
The Solitary Crowds,
The Fingerers, The Clock-heads,
The Let’s Make Mummy Prouds.

If You Want To Be A Pop Star

If you want to be a pop star
Then you need to get a look,
And some really kick-ass dance moves
And a killer modern hook.
Then you’ll get the kids up dancing
Feeling good about themselves,
And they’ll really love your record –
It’ll fly right off the shelves.
Then you’ll be in all the papers
As you start to grow in fame
Until everybody everywhere
Knows your pop star name.