In honour of their gig at Edinburgh Liquid Rooms
A selection of the greatest Half Man Half Biscuit lyrics
A woman who described herself as “A little bit Bridget, a little bit Ally, a little bit Sex And The City” and chose to call her baby boy Fred as a childishly rebellious attempt at a clever reaction to those who might have expected her to call him Julian or Rupert. Bit of advice: call him Rupert, it fits, and besides it’s a good name. Don’t be calling him Fred or Archie, with all its cheeky but lovable working class scamp connotations, unless you really do have plans for him to spend his life in William Hill’s waiting for them to weigh in at Newton Abbot.
(Breaking News)
Curse those in charge of plots, curse these forget-me-nots
I’ve been sharing my innermost thoughts with an Edward Macrae
I’m inconsolable, and at times uncontrollable
Ah, but she wouldn’t know, ‘cos she’s two hundred metres away…
(Tending The Wrong Grave For 23 Years)
And all those people who you romantically,
Like to still believe are alive,
Are dead!
(Dickie Davis Eyes)
If you're going to quote from the Book of Revelation
Don't keep calling it the Book of Revelations
There's no "s", it's the Book of Revelation
As revealed to St John the Divine
See also Mary Hopkin
She must despair
You've got a shit arm, and that's a bad tattoo
You've got a shit arm, and that's a bad tattoo
(Shit Arm, Bad Tattoo)
Is your child hyperactive, or is he perhaps a twat?
Sometimes I like to watch Wave Rage down on Fistral Beach
Last Ash Wednesday I had tantric sex and it was shit
Next Ash Wednesday I might strive to lick my elbow
(Surging Out Of Convalescence)
Demon fiend, leave your tomb
Seek out the Virgin womb
Hey Chris from Future Doom
You left your lyrics in the practice room
(Left Lyrics In The Practice Room)
Faked my way through Glastonbury
By acting all asexually
And then in the acoustic tent
She stood there as if heaven sent
Well if that’s not Enya
That’s not Enya
That’s not Enya
That’s not Enya
(Sensitive Outsider)
Here she lies in her fleecy gown
By my side in the eiderdown
But she can’t get a ticket to Morningtown
‘Cos I’ve got restless legs
Boring though this film may be
Slumber still won’t visit thee
So long as you stay next to me
For I have restless legs
(Restless Legs)
Car crime’s low, the gun crime’s lower
The town hall band CD, it’s a grower
You never hear of folk getting knocked on the bonce
Although there was a drive-by shouting once
(For What Is Chatteris)
On a sinking ship a sailor yearns
For his Joy Division oven gloves
Nero fiddles while Gordon Burns
In his Joy Division oven gloves
Talk to the hands, talk to the hands
In his Joy Division oven gloves
Dance dance dance dance
In your Joy Division oven gloves
(Joy Division Oven Gloves)
12 drummers singing
11 chairmen dancing
10 mascots whinging
9 stewards flapping
8 christening invites
7 cows a-barking
6 vicars strumming
NICK. FUCKING. KNOWLES!
4 boring words
Carphone Warehouse and Matalan
And a pulled-up at Bangor-On-Dee
(Upon Westminster Bridge)
I should have just got a job on the bins
The pay's better and I know some hard blokes
And I wouldn't have to pretend
That I know what rhetorical means
(Lark Descending)
Who the fucking hell are Slipknot?
(Vatican Broadside)
Hey, hey, hey, the sun has got his hat on
Sing hosanna, the jazz snobs are all going home
(Faithlift)
And the young girl may come to her senses
And the wretch may get tetchy and leave
And the chap wracked with anguish incarnate
May gladly accept his reprieve
But the fates around these parts are ruthless
And sometimes just want people dead
So he'll probably throw himself under
The ten twenty-seven instead
(The Coroners Footnote)
Street parties in Redcar
Oh Mr Woo
What shall I do?
Surrogate Grundy
Sold on a Monday
To Richard and Judy
(Mars Ultras You'll Never Make The Station)
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