The Half Man Half Biscuit Lyrics Project

Busking this at Embankment Tube tomorrow

162 pop songs picked over by pedants (in 2,968 comments!)

Notes on recently-added lyrics

The beautiful sparkling healthy spa water of Bath, in Avon

On the home stretch now, with (mainly) golden oldies to be done, but who knows what surprises they might throw up for those of us who turn out to have been singing the wrong words for twenty-three years? Anyway, I Hate Nerys Hughes (From The Heart) probably set the gold standard for disliking certain figures from the world of entertainment, something which was to feature regularly over future albums, but never less subtly. If only Nerys Hughes had actually been a Liver Bird, we may now be referring to her as, ooh, NH58 or something, but she is of course from Rhyl, and at the time of writing, quite alive, it would appear.

Papal entourage, give us a song

Do you have certain HMHB refrains which pop into your head at inopportune moments? For me, the most common (for years) has been the chorus (above) from this one. I swear it’ll probably be the last thing I hear as I take my own final Stannah. Perhaps because his name is linked with rising from the dead, Chester Barnes (brilliant character, by the way) would appear to be still going strong. Anita Roddick, alas, did not fare so well. Anyway, I thought I’d better do this one before any more kind correspondents send it in.

Surprised like the front of an Anglia

Doreen is another song with a whole list of unlikely happenings and situations, including obsessive showjumping fans, letters to the council in the form of poetry and Dutch prog bands on holiday in the north-west. The aforementioned veterans Alquin had split 15 years before the song was written, but the almost inevitable asterisk reveals that they reformed 10 years later and had an “Ultimate Collection”, naturally.

I haven’t even got a canoe

Bit of a PBR, this one, because I met an ex-teacher of mine in our city’s swanky new library the other day, and she was paying the fines through the groovy automated machines for a couple of books which appeared to be nine weeks overdue. Anyway, I Love You Because (You Look Like Jim Reeves) wasn’t as successful as many other HMHB songs at seeing the back of its protagonists: Jim Reeves had already been dead for many years, Peggy Mount soldiered on for another 15, and Tony Bastable managed over 20, although at 62 you could say his passing was an unexpectedly early walk back to the pavilion. The song also features a rare example of some NSFW language (well, a word) which NB57 appeared to get out of his system very early on.

Father, Son and Mickie Most

The quiet desperation that is the English way (thanks Neil). OK, let’s get one thing straight: if it’s the man who wrote about the last train for the coast, it’s Don McLean, and if it’s the one-time Peter Glaze sidekick, it’s Don Maclean, and we’ll never know which one is being referred to, although you lot will argue about it, without doubt. Turned Up Clocked On Laid Off is one of the most beautifully gloomy songs HMHB have ever recorded, especially the coda after the last chorus. Magnificent.

To the woods to stroke non-existent puppies

God Gave Us Life is the song which I always think disproves any “curse of HMHB” theory, because most of the extensive roll-call of wonderful people are alive and well nearly 25 years later. Even the, er, more senior ones lived on into the next century. Anyway, some nice distortion.

I’ll tell you about the Cuban’s eight-foot stride

Quality Janitor is about old janitors/parkies/grandads who presumably “put Nick Straker on the floor” when the seventies one-hit-wonders went for a walk in the park and had a trip in the dark. Maybe. Anyway, I thought this one was going to be difficult when five correspondents sent in five quite different first lines, but it got easier from there on in. That line may generate some discussion though.

Stromsgodset Under-5s did the offy by us

Malayan Jelutong is a type of wood, apparently, but doesn’t feature in the song. Then again, it’s one of those songs where there are lots of intriguingly amusing references, but if there are any connections between them, they’re too obscure for most of us. Many years on, there are still adverts for The Original Breton Shirt in the back pages. Guardian readers never change.

The cemetery’s full of indispensable cobblers

Whiteness Thy Name Is Meltonian has two or three individual lines in it which I know are amongst the favourites of several people. And that coda – it’s almost pop music… Meltonian, by the way, still exists. It’s a brand which, despite being sold to the Americans, is so achingly traditional it apparently doesn’t need a proper website – and you won’t see much of a mention of it anywhere from its current owner, the mighty Sara Lee Corporation.

The Chief Executive, fresh from Reykjavik

This one always makes me smile. It’s just a list of management-speak gobbledegook, culled mainly from job adverts, but what’s striking about ITMA could well be how few of these terms have become quaint since 1997. I suppose most of the people who were writing business bullshit back then are still writing it today.

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