Punk Uncle

by The Antipoet

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about

For their Seventh Album, dedicated to the memory of Ian Dury, The Antipoet are exploring their musical/music hall roots. Ten new studio tracks, Interspersed with radio interviews and the odd live recording, it's a must for the seasoned fan or anyone new to the Punky/Beaty/Funny/Naughty world of The Antipoet.

credits

released July 22, 2019

Words and Music by The Antipoet. Other instrumentation and production by The Genius that is Mark Gordon.

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The Antipoet London, UK

"The Antipoet are at the forefront of the new movement; their material dripping with parody, takes poetry to a new level, with performances as memorable as they are hilarious"
Chris Wilson - The Stage

Combining the wit and wisdom of one of the finest performance poets with solo bass and the odd piece of gratuitous percussion to create the unique sound and spectacle that is The Antipoet
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Track Name: Lament For The Motorway Service's 'Good Ol' Mug A' Tea'
'LAMENT...

It oughtn't've been
too much to ask for;
'snot an unreas'nable request:
a little light refreshment
with our statutory rest;
see, we've been travelling for hours;
cooped up in Ian's car;
we've a need to purge our bladders;
stretch our lallies:
R'nR.
Donna bagged the front seat,
'cause she claims she gets travel sick,
(and as usual)
I'm in the back with the bass on me lap,
getting claus-tra-pho-bic;
but then we clocks it:
in the distance:
 a shimmering oasis;
 the weary musos' mecca:
 the motorway services!

~ all I wanted was beans on toast
with cleanish cutlery,
a plate of chips and a Wagon Wheel,
and a good ol' mug a' tea,
all I wanted was a pit stop;
a piss an' a packet of toffees,
but me demands were antiquarian,
'cause now all they sell here's coffee!

There's a Costa;
no, wait: there are five of 'em,
within sight of the door;
there're Starbucks on the other side:
it's a roast bean franchise war!
There's a McDonalds next to a Burger King and some other branded shit:
it's obligat'ry,
apparently:
people need their fast food hit!
 Oh, they'll all serve tea;
if they have to,
but they'd really rather not:
a bag in tepid water
('cause they haven't got a pot),
in a cardboard cup with a plastic cap:
an insipid shade of piss,
that tastes like spit'n sugar,
'cause that's probably what it is!
~all I wanted
was a biscuit
and a mug of tea to sup,
 why would I want a 'cinnamon whirl' and me name on the side of the cup?
All I wanted was a welcome break
(I didn't) come to do me shopping;
I don't want to buy any camping gear:
we hadn't planned on stopping!
All I wanted
was some fried bread;
with eggs done over-easy,
that's been warming under lamps for hours,
just there t'tempt'n tease me.
It shouldn't've bin
too much to ask for;
I mean, can I really be,
the only man who doesn't favour coffee over tea?
But it IS too much to ask for,
 my kind aren't welcome here,
if you not goin' t'get with the program,mate,
of the Services,
 steer clear!
All I wanted
was a stop-off;
 is it only me,
who remembers when the Services sold proper urn-stewed tea?
All I wanted
was a pit stop,
run independently,
a plate of chips an' a Wagon Wheel
and a good ol'mug of tea.
Track Name: Kid's Today
"KIDS TODAY"

Kids today; they don't know they're born:
their hands aren't calloused and their soles aren't worn;
they've never had rickets;
never fought in a war; never had to ask
 "please sir... can I have some more?"

Kids today; they’ve got no respect
and they tend to be grammatically incorrect
they're self obsessed and over confident
with a well developed sense of entitlement

So, Stick'em up a chimney! I tell yer, stick'em up a chimney! Like we were
sent up the chimneys, back in our day.
Kids today: they think they know it all,
they wanna start at the top as soon as they leave school.
We call 'em the snowflake generation
'cause they've got a very short... attention... span!

Kids today would say we're past our best
we've nothing left to say of any interest;
our experience has no relevance,
that's why they should be taught a little common sense,
or sell 'em on on ebay;
don't worry, people do it every day,
if you find they're costing more than they are worth.
Swap 'em for a new car,
it'll save on faff and all that hoo ha,
a lesser parent might just strangle them at birth...

So, Stick'em up a chimney!
I tell yer,
stick'em up a chimney!
Like we were
sent up the chimneys,
when we were young.
Yes, stick'em up a chimney!
They'll thank yer;
stick'em up a chimney!
Like we were
made to lick a chimney
clean with our tongue!

So, Stick'em up a chimney!
They'll thank yer,
send'em up a chimney!
Like we were,
yes, we understand that
you might have qualms.
So, shove'em down a coal mine,
don't worry, parents;
they will be fine,
…..a little bit of work
won't do them any harm...

a little bit of work
won't do them any harm

a little bit of well intended physical and mental torture
didn't do us
any harm.
Track Name: They don't need it.
'THEY DON'T NEED IT'

She drives a Range Rover to take the kids to school:
 she doesn't need it!
It costs a bomb to tax and to insure
and even more t'feed it.

 She doesn't need it! X 4

He's got a fifty inch telly with a 3D screen:
 he doesn't need it!
It'll be his pride'n joy until they take that toy and supersede it.
 He doesn't need it! X 4


They've got more than enough
and so they spend it all on stuff:
they've got t'keep up
with The Joneses.
They've far more than they need,
but it's a fashionable greed;
they've got t'have it all for their ownses...

She's got an I-phone ten;
it cost a thousand pounds:
 she doesn't need it!
Because she's only five,
but her parents won't deprive
her,
cash: they bleed it.
 She doesn't need it! X 4

he's got a Rolex watch, it's made of solid gold,
 he doesn't need it!
It tells time like it oughta,
neither heat nor cold nor water
will impede it.
 (But) he doesn't need it!

They feel they must acquire
more than they really require;
they've got t'keep up with The Joneses.
They'll say they have a thirst;
they put their own interests first;
they want to have it all for their ownses...


They don't need it.
 (they don't; nobody does)
They don't need it.
 They don't need it.
(they don't; no-one really does)

(They say) I've a sanctimonious philosophy
and they won't heed it...
Track Name: It's not guns that kill people
IT's NOT GUNS THAT KILL PEOPLE...
"There's a difference between a BAD man and a GOOD man with a gun," (they say),
"when a GOOD man does his killing he doesn't do it for fun. (He's far more) sporting" , say The NRA,
"(he only) packs such armaments, (so he can) blow away the wildlife in pre-emptive self defence."
(Because 'The) American Constitution' it says, he's a right to go out armed, (though it doesn l t) seem to enshrine the public's right to go about unharmed;

to live their lives without the fear of a sudden, bloody end, at the hands of a tooled-up fruitcake with his liberty to defend.
"It's not guns that kill people," the murder happy claim, and neither can the humble atom bomb be apportioned blame. "It's the bad men who misuse these tools; hell, ain't it obvious?
(That's why) good people should own MORE guns, to defend the REST of us!"
But it's logic like this that provokes your average paranoid patriots,
3
to see enemies where there are none; to imagine threats and plots.
"They wanna take away our freedom,"
(they say), "put ideas in our heads;
"well thank the lord f' the licence t 'pump t em all full a lead!"
(They know that they' re) ten times more likely to be shot in the good ol' USA, than anywhere else in the world, that isn't a warzone, anyway!
(That the/ re) Eight times more likely to die by the bullet acc-ident-aly, and six times more likely to say:
"Fuck you all!" and go suic-ida-ly.
"It i s not guns that kill people," the arms dealers claimed, "any more than a nuclear war should see Einstein named' n shamed."
"It's just morons who misuse and abuse their caché of deterrents,
"you shouldn't blame our system, man, not the TV nor the parents."
"It's not guns that kill people," well, maybe that I s the case; or the bullets that I re fired from 'em, by the good ol' human race.
"People kill people" • the NRA again, but take away the guns, you twats and your loss can be our gain!
Yes, take away the guns, you twats and twelve thousand unnecessary gun deaths a year in America can be your financial loss... ...but the world's gain.
Track Name: If it hurts
'IF IT HURTS'
           The Antipoet

They're screwing up their faces;
they're balling their hands into fists,
their eyes are beginning to water,
their heart's screaming: 'cease'n desist!'
Their blood pressure's bubblin'n rising
as they ready themselves for the rôle;
that vein in their neck is pulsing,
as they give us the voice of their soul...

But singing's not meant to be stressful,
or such an emotional drain,
it's supposed to make you happy,
not cause you conspicuous pain.
But I see them on me telly,
giving it all that they've got,
suffering for their art
as if they're reeling from having been shot...

Well, if it hurts: why do it?
'Sno good willing yourself to be strong;
if it hurts, don't do it;
you're obviously doing it wrong!
If it hurts, don't do it;
don't just think,
'well, it won't be for long',
if it hurts, don't put yourself through it,
don't murder yourself or the song!

Perhaps it's supposed to look arty;
maybe it's done for the sympathy vote?
They're trying to make it look tortured
as they strain for that transient note.
They'll bleat about passion and feeling;
they'll whine about pathos and truth.
They're lost in the schmaltz of the moment, 
they say;
that strain on their face is the proof.

But if it hurts: why do it?
'Sno good willing yourself to be strong;
if it hurts, don't do it;
you're obviously doing it wrong!
If it hurts, eshcew it;
don't just think,
'well, it won't be for long',
if it hurts, don't put yourself through it;
don't murder yourself or the song!

If it hurts, don't do it;
you're obviously doing it wrong!
Track Name: Smugness incarnate
Smugness incarnate

He's riding his push bike to the shops,
he's off to get his paper and a box of Coco pops,
for the breakfast that he'll have on his return,
knowing the calories contained within;
this exercise will burn.
  Oh, he is smugness incarnate,
(just one of those)
middle class fitness Nazis that I'm quite prepared to hate.
  Oh, yes, he's smugness incarnate,
(part of a)
middle class fitness Nazi caliphate.

(But) before he takes said push bike to the shop,
he dons his sponsored lycra, bollock-busting, shorts'n tit-tight top;
 a helmet that Ridley Scott once used
in the film: 'Alien'
and lastly,
pulls his socks over his shoes.
  Oh, he is smugness incarnate,
(just one of those)
middle class fitness Nazis that I'm quite happy to bait.
  Oh, yes, he's smugness incarnate,
(he's joined that)
middle class fitness Nazi caliphate.


~they're born again,
sworn to avenge
a stylised physique,
they'll patronise;
evangelise
'til we join their sweat soaked clique...

I
thought I'd take a shufti through the park,
(but I find it's) full of girls in skimpy gym kits that glow in the dark,
doing a zumba/ jazzercize/pilates class,
and they sneer at me because I can't be arsed to work my arse.


  (Oh, they are) smugness incarnate,
(just some of those)
middle class fitness Nazis that I'd like to flagellate.
  Oh, yes, they're smugness incarnate,
(part of that)
middle class fitness Nazi caliphate.

One foot against the lamppost
and he'll stretch,
as he grunts like Venus Williams until I'm forced to retch,
star jumps;
squat thrusts;
press ups:
watch him flout,
and all the while he's unaware his balls are hanging out.
  Oh, he is smugness incarnate,
(just one of those)
middle class fitness Nazis that I've come here to berate.
  Oh, yes, he's smugness incarnate,
(part of that)
middle class fitness Nazi caliphate.

They're superfit;
they've got all the kit,
but that won't get them far,
'cause on Saturday,
they'll 'ave their takeaway,
and a bottle of Ri-o-ja...

Oh, he is smugness incarnate,
(just one of those)
middle class fitness Nazis that I love to irritate.
Oh, yes, he's smugness incarnate,
(part of that)
middle class fitness Nazi caliphate.

Oh, how those middle class fitness Nazis compensate...
For their inability to procreate !
(Their total) inability to fornicate!
Track Name: They've got to learn
They've got t'learn,
they've got t'learn;
they're going t'learn it somewhere,
it might as well be here'n now,
They've got t'learn,
oh, they're going t'learn:
it's an art like any other;
settle down;
we'll teach you how...

(Kids:)
 Swearing isn't big;
it isn't cool
and it isn't funny,
it's common
and it's lazy
(if it's not bang on the money).
For maximum effect,
one should defer delivery;
temper one's vulgarity:
explete with dignity!

Choose your salutations;
never over play a word,
as they tend to lose their potency
once they've been over heard.
Profanity should never be
an exuse to let off steam,
don't waste an opportunity;
(don't be) trite when you blaspheme.

You've got t'learn,
you've got t'learn;
(and) if you're going t'learn it somewhere,
it might as well be here'n now,
you've got t'learn,
oh, you're goin' t'learn:
it's an art like any other,
settle down;
we'll teach you how...

(Kids:)
This lexicon of ours is ripe with fruity adjectives
and such inflammat'ry exclamations,
always trump pejoratives!
Such words won't just insult,
they'll elevate your intellect,
in the eyes of the fadge flapdoodle,
they'll gain you due respect.

Fudge knocker!
Fubsy fussock!
You kruntin' Merdivore!
Bescumbered Microphallus;
You're a valgus coprolore!
You're a Weeble!
A meable
smug funtin' fustylugger;
clunge wrangling
frottage fancier;
a skankin' todger tugger!

...repeat after me, kids:

'Fudge knocker!
Fubsy fussock!
You're a kruntin' Merdivore!'

...near as frakk it.

'Bescumbered Microphallus;
You're a valgus coprolore!'

...that one's gunna need some smegging work.

'You're a Weeble!
A meable
smug funtin' fustylugger;
clunge wrangling
frottage fancier;
a skankin' todger tugger!'

(well) they've got t'learn,
they've got t'learn;
they're going t'learn it somewhere, parents
please don't make a fuss,
('cause) they've got t'learn,
they're going t'learn:
and we're glad to be of service,
teaching children how to cuss;
yes,
we're glad to've been of service,
think of us when you're blasphemous.