Was listening to music on random play this am and Paul Simon’s You can call me Al came on. I have always been amused by the line ‘some rolly poly little bat faced girl’ as a mild insult.
Then of course there is the really acerbic sarcasm of the ‘funniest fucker in the World’ purportedly written by Costello about Bruce Thomas in the song ‘How to be dumb’.
So what song insults intrigue or amuse you?
Insults
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The Smiths’ Queen Is Dead album track Frankly Mr Shankly has the line “you are a flatulent pain in the arse” allegedly about Rough Trade supremo Geoff Travis.
Surely the best insult in FMS is “Oh I didn’t realise you wrote poetry. I didn’t realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry.”
I’m not really a Smiths fan, but is that really how that line goes? Doesn’t sound right to me. Surely a more effective line would be, “Oh I realised you wrote poetry. I just didn’t realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry.”
You’re welcome, Mr morrissey.
I must confess to innate sexist tendencies, for I can’t help thinking “she makes the rocking world go round” whenever I see a female blessed with an ample derrière. That’s more of a compliment than an insult though.
Kurt Wagner dissing an erstwhile chum always makes me smile:
Once I had a friend who had the knack of tossing
his mind around geography. Boy, you think you have problems?
(Replace “geography” with “engineering” and you could have an ode to the wonderful Mr Fenton. Whereas “The last thought that you think today has already happened” could apply to me some days.)
The Saintly Mrs F would surely agree, especially after I’ve shown her for the Nth time how to correctly load the dishwasher.
Just as a matter of interest, S, how do you and Mrs F load the dishwasher?
I’m a firm believer in putting cutlery sharp ends facing down while Mrs J
insists they should go up.
While I will be bereft should it ever happen, I am quietly relishing being able to say “I don’t want to say I told you so, but…” when I enter the kitchen to find her lying on the kitchen floor looking like Piper Laurie after SIssy Spacek’s Carrie has finished with her
Well, I’m glad someone asked such
an interestinga dull question.Cutlery (including blunt knives) handle down in the rectangular slots.
Forks (which, for some reason have slightly larger handles than the knives) in the (larger) square slots.
Cooking knives (sharp) handle up to avoid stabbage when unloading.
Collander on its side, to aid drying (no puddle forming).
Non-stick Tefal-coated and aluminium pans washed up separately to avoid staining. Wine glasses are no longer an issue to us.
If Mrs F was left to her own devices, we’d have to dry everything up after unloading the dishwasher.
Women! Cuh! Can’t Live with ’em, etc, etc
Mrs F with her B.A. earns twice as much as me with my B.Eng. (Hons). Who’s the fool? Yes, I am.
Mrs B sometimes looks likes she loads our dishwasher from the other side of the kitchen. Almost randomly.
I’ve just about managed, over 14 years, to get her to load it from the back, as opposed to “easiest first” (i.e. nearest the front), with the “to be washed” side of dishes and plates facing inwards. The odd pot occasionally still reveals itself to be placed in upside down when I come to get it out, and thus throw water all over the kitchen floor, which then resembles an ice rink. It’s a constant war of attrition.
It drives me up the pole.
She says the same.
I’m a firm advocate of the “rinse before loading” principle. Mrs D will however load (and overload) the dishwasher irregardless of how much caked in crud there is.
Bits remain on crockery, and then it’s my fault for not putting in more rinse aid.
Am I alone in never having lived in a house with a dishwashing machine?
Me neither, and as it seems to be a given that they are the leading cause of domestic disputes I’ll stick with my washing up bowl. Besides which, I’ve always regarded washing up as the least unpleasant of all the domestic chores. I regard dishwashers as a solution for a problem which doesn’t exist.
Washing up = 30 minutes daily peace. Actually, not so much peace more music cranked up. Tonight’s choice is No Sleep Til Hammersmith
“It’s a dishwasher not a dishscrubber“, not that it ever causes any change in operator behaviour.
I’m also in charge of the washing machine, as I prefer my clothes to be colours other than grey or pink. Perhaps that’s what Caravan were on about.
Mrs BP always insists she can get more into the dishwasher which is why we have so many chipped plates.
Did someone say plate of chips??
That is an art and clearly needs teaching.
Along with turning lights off when you leave a room!
Further dullness… last autumn I reprogrammed the Offspringbots to open their bedroom curtains and switch the lights off when the sun was shining. Our Leccy consumption went down by 22%.
I set the central heating thermostat down by one degree, gas use went down by 28%.
Both bills went up, of course, but still…
“Ain’t Gonna Bump No More With No Big Fat Woman”
You might have trouble getting that out as a single, these days.
The king of the aggressive passive aggressive one liner is, of course, Mr Dylan, his acerbic lyrics from Positively 4th Street always making me shudder:
“I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment I could be you
Yes I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You’d know what a drag it is to see you.”
Ouch….
I always chuckled at another couplet from that song:
I received your letter yesterday
About the time the doorknob broke.
Psst – that’s Desolation Row
Oops
Also enjoy the blunt insult from Idiot Wind –
Blowing every time you move your teeth
You’re an idiot, babe
It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe.
That always puzzled me, that line.
Did Dylan receive a letter telling him about a broken doorknob and how it happened? Or did he receive a letter at the same time as his doorknob broke?
Sex Pistols Never Mind The Bollocks contained 3 Malcy-goading tracks.
Liar
New York
Seventeen – or certainly in its original I’m A Lazy Sod form
You’re only 29
Got a lot to learn
But when your business dies
You will not return
I always thought the Sex Pistols track New York was a dig at David Johansen and the New York Dolls.
I think it’s about MM’s infatuation with the NYDs and his total failure to make them famous.
Johnny Thunders replied with London Boys having a pop at the UK punks.
Cook and Jones played on the album – all good natured banter perhaps.
You think your haircut is distinguished – well, it’s a blot on the English landscape.
“Her Hitler haircut is making me feel ill” is pretty good. As is “He talks in maths, he buzzes like a fridge”.
`kin hell @SteveT, I thought the PC mob would be after lynching you by now.
“Act your age, not your shoe size”
My shoe size is 45. I suppose that’s a bit old for Prince.
I’m pleased I don’t have to have size 52 (17 and a half in old money) feet.
Yeah, but you’d be popular. Let’s leave it at that.
Mark E Smith was good for this, often aiming barbs at his wives and band-mates. Glam Racket opens with a swipe at stoic bassist Steve Hanley.
Stop eating all that chocolate
Eat salad instead
In fact, you’re a half-wit from somewhere or other
Why don’t you bog off back to Xanadu in Ireland
I’ve recently come to the conclusion that the old jazz standard “My Funny Valentine” is rather insulting to the subject of it’s verses.
e.g.
“Your looks are laughable. Unphotographable.”
and
“Is your figure less than greek?
Is your mouth a little weak?
When you open it to speak are you smart?”
Lorenz Hart, who wrote the words, appears to not mind any of these things about his valentine, but then why mention them so prominently?
None of those remarks are likely to be welcomed by one’s love partner, I’m thinking.
The Kinks’ Turn Off The Living Room Light is very much in this line.
“Yuooooooooooooooo are soooooooooo beautiful. To me.”
Rough old dog to all else……
They should have renamed the dirge as “The Beer Goggles Song”
Or Mr. Joel:
I don’t want clever conversation
I never want to work that hard
I just want someone I can talk to
That reflects on Mr J too, though.
Perhaps as well as being fair and true, he’s boring as hell.
Stiff Little Fingers – I Don’t Like You
If I thought you could find a way, I’d tell you to go get lost
But why ask you to pay attention when you’re brain can’t stand the cost
If a thought came into your head, it would die of loneliness
You don’t entertain ideas, you just simply bore them
You couldn’t find your feet if you were looking for them
Next to you, even a brick is thin
“Hitler. He only had one ball.
Goering. Had two but very small.
Himmler. Was very sim’lar.
But poor old Goebbels had no balls at all.”
This is what won the war.
Well, this and several million tons of bombs.
“I was never good at telling jokes/but the punchline goes/I get older but your lovers stay my age.”
Savage.
“Why don’t you kill yourself?” by the Only Ones
Time weighs heavy for Barney – every second counts.
Of course DONOVAN invented the put-down song in 1970.
“Have you ever seen a picture of Pope Paul?
Have you ever asked yourself this question
Would you trust this man with your soul now?
Would you trust this man? ask yourself now
His eyes are sunken and his cheeks are hollow
While you dig the poor of the world they follow
He’s hoarding up their gold in the Vatican
Would you trust this man? ask yourself now
A poke at the Pope, that’s what we’re havin’
A poke at the Pope, that’s what we’re havin’
A poke at the Pope, that’s what we’re havin’
A poke at the Pope, that’s what we’re havin'”
Two words: Mister Wells.
That’s the single!
“You Run Your Mouth And I’ll Run My Business”
.
You catch me beatin’ up your chops?
I ought to turn you over to the cops,
But dig this spiel I’m going to lay on you, gate,
Don’t cop your broom, park the body and wait.
You run your mouth and I’ll run my business, brother,
You run your mouth and I’ll run my business, brother,
You tell everybody I’m busted,
You talk so much you got me disgusted.
But you run your mouth and I’ll run my business, brother.
You run your mouth and I’ll run my business, brother,
You run your mouth and I’ll run my business, brother,
You start in tellin’ me you’re my pal,
And end up tellin’ me how to handle my gal,
You run your mouth and I’ll run my business, brother.
You run your juicy mouth and I’ll run my business, brother,
Just run your juicy mouth and I’ll run my business, brother,
You always tellin’ me what to do,
Sayin’, “I wouldn’t do that if I was you!”
You run your mouth and I’ll run my business, brother.
Just clap your liver lips and I’ll run my business, brother,
Clap your liver lips and I’ll run my business, brother,
If I’d followed your advice on how to make dough,
I’d been in the jailhouse long ago.
You run your mouth and I’ll run my business, brother.
Do you dig me, Jack?
Is this the origin of the expression Liver Lips? It’s one of those things that’s insulting and you don’t quite know why…
What a lyricist he was. Chuck Berry couldn’t have done it without him.
“Airhead”
I buy her all the right clothes
And pretty Jewels to wear
My friends say she’s a dumb blonde
But they don’t know she dyes her hair
She thinks the fighting in Central America’s easily solved
But what to wear to Bel Air premieres
Is a problem she could never resolve..
She’s an airhead. Stun gun and mace
Kharmann Ghia plates say “Lost In Space”
She’s an airhead. Thousands in trust
Cusp Aquarius – get serious
She’s an airhead. Tinted contacts
Don’t change the fact that black is black
She’s an airhead. While I’m impressed with the length of those legs
She’s not an intellectual giant..
She’d like to model or maybe act
Or start a magazine.
Before she signs any big contracts
She’d better learn to read.
But in her dreams she’s the queen of the fashion regime..
You ask me do I love you..
Does The Pope live in the woods?
“Quod erat demonstrandum baby”.
“Ooh, you speak French!”
etc.
But also
She’s losing faith in a world that is out of control.
She’s gonna nix politics. She’s taking up volleyball
Volleyball? Why?
‘Cos she’s an airhead..
But finally..
Don’t get me wrong
If she’s an airhead it has to be said
It was men made her that way
It was us made her that way
It was us made her that way.
Is this the bit where we all get to discuss Fairytale of New York?
And no mention of How Do You Sleep yet
Bit obvious maybe, but
“Like a nightclub in the morning, you’re the bitter end.
Like a recently disinfected sh**house, you’re clean round the bend.”
is excellent.
Not nearly as vicious or vivid as “like a sucked and spat out Smart-eh” though
Well, John’s ex Julie is a slag, a tart, a slut and a bitch, and as for Gordon…
Who on earth could Richard Thompson be referring to?
Here comes Geordie, back in town again
Here comes Geordie, strutting down the lane
Girls all want to toy with his affection
Boys all say, he loves his own reflection
Hey now, Geordie, sing us all a song
Whoa there, Geordie, where’s your mother tongue?
That don’t sound like Tyneside to me
Geordie, are you from Jamaica, ee?
Here comes Geordie in his private plane
Got to save the planet once again
Good old Geordie, righteous as can be
Chop down the forest just to save a tree
Good old Geordie went to buy a hat
Geordie says, my head won’t fit in that
It’s so swollen, much to my surprise
They’re all too small, there’s nothing in my size
Here comes Geordie acting in a play
He’s no Gielgud or Olivier
Stiff as cardboard, isn’t it a drag,
Can’t act his way out of a paper bag
Here comes Geordie, back in town again
Here comes Geordie, strutting down the lane
Girls all love him, think he is the end
Boys all say, the mirror’s his best friend
Here comes Geordie
Here comes Geordie
That’s no way to talk about Daniel Craig.
But he’s from Chester.
Only a matter of time before he’s starring in a Putin war film.
Our Friends in the Donbas?
That’ll be 2023. This year he’s filming the big screen remake of Bless This House. No prosthetics!
He looks nothing like Diana Coupland!
A couple of great ones by the late, great Radio Sheffield DJ, Tony Capstick, whose dad’ in Capstick Comes Home, after walking 43 miles through the snow in bare feet, after a 72 hour shift darn’t pit, wasn’t impressed to find a tea of brown bread and butter waiting for him, so before he threw Capstick’s mam on’t fire, he gently pulled her toward him by’t throat and called her a “big, fat, idle, ugly wart” and a “great, useless, spawny-eyed, parrot-faced wazzock’
Oh I love that. I can remember the whole thing.
The pause before “Eeeeee, me Fatha went crackers” is perfect.
For some reason I kept the single when I flogged 95% of my records back in the 90s. Having recently bought a new record player, having not had one for over 20 years, I dusted it off and played it to my son, who’s about the same age as I was when it came out. I’m very pleased to say he finds it as funny as I did/do, even if he doesn’t get most of the references, including the main one, as he’s never seen a Hovis advert.
Didn’t Johnny Thunders sing on his London Boys something like “when you go to take a leak / you need someone just to shake your dick”? Well that would be a pretty spirited attempt to claim the cigar, and ironic too in that Cook and Jones played on the track.
Or you could try flyting.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flyting
“Your mind is on vacation but your mouth is working overtime” by the late great Mose Allison
You’ve been telling me you’re a genius ever since you were seventeen.
….I suspect Don disagrees
“You lied about your status / You lied about your life
You forgot you had three children / You forgot you have a wife
Now it’s England 2 Colombia 0
And I know just how those Colombians feel
…
No it isn’t in my nature to ever pick a winner
I always pick a bastard who would have me for his dinner
…
You should never have kissed me / You tasted of deceit
Your perfume was adultery / but I’m not a piece of meat
So I’ll be the one that you couldn’t acquire
I found out in time you’re a serial liar
Making love to the Mersey Tunnel with a sausage…….
(Ms Coon later said that Mr Burnel had a very small sausage indeed.)
Nick Cave was not that keen on journalist Mat Snow:
He was a miserable shitwringing turd
Like he reminded me of some evil gnome
Shaking hands was like shaking a hot, fat, oily bone…..
I told him he looked fat
His lips were red and licking wet
His house was roasting hot
In fact it was a fucking slum….
I think you fucking traitor, chronic masturbator,
Shitlicker, user, self-abuser, jigger jigger!
What rock did you crawl from?
Which, did you come?
You Judas, Brutus, Vitus, Scum!
Hey four-eyes, come
That’s right, it’s a gun
Face is bubble, blood, and, street
Snowman with six holes clean into his fat fuckin guts
And of course:
Like a nightclub in the morning, you’re the bitter end
Like a recently disinfected shithouse, you’re clean round the bend
You give me the horrors
Too bad to be true
All of my tomorrows
Are lousy ’cause of you
You put the Shat in Shatter
Put the Pain in Spain
Your germs are splattered about
Your face is just a stain
You’re certainly no raver, commonly known as a drag
Do us all a favor, here, wear this polythene bag
You’re like a dose of scabies
I’ve got you under my skin
You make life a fairytale
Grimm!
People mention murder, the moment you arrive
I’d consider killing you if I thought you were alive
You’ve got this slippery quality
It makes me think of phlegm
And a dual personality
I hate both of them
You’re bad breath, vamps disease, destruction, and decay
Please, please, please, please, take yourself away
Like a death a birthday party
You ruin all the fun
Like a sucked and spat-our Smartie
You’re no use to anyone
Like the shadow of the guillotine
On a dead consumptive’s face
Speaking as an outsider
What do you think of the human race?
You went to a progressive psychiatrist
He recommended suicide
Before scratching your bad name off his list
And pointing the way outside
You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart
You’re heading for a breakdown
Better pull yourself apart
Your dirty name gets passed about when something goes amiss
Your attitudes are platitudes
Just make me wanna piss
What kind of creature bore you
Was it some kind of bat?
They can’t find a good word for you
But I can
Twat!
Funnily enough, this came to mind as I was watching the news last night.
Fats Waller – “Feet’s too Big”
Who’s that walkin’ ’round here?
Mercy!
Sounds like baby patter
Baby elephant patter, that’s what I calls it
Say, up in Harlem, at a table for two,
There were four of us, me, your big feet and you
From your ankles up, I say you sure are sweet,
From there down, there’s just too much feet!
I can’t help thinking about Chas & Dave’s “Rabbit!” also.
Gerrrrrrrtcha!
Looks like HMHB haven’t been mentioned yet, and Nigel Blackwell has always specialized in this kind of thing. A sample from their latest:
Spare me from the drunken heathen
Gormless bores in Superdry
Most unclean and most unwelcome
Like a field of blighted rye
In Sealclubbing, someone asks Nigel this – “If music be the food of love, are you the indigestion?”
In Brilliant Mistake, Elvis Costello sings, ‘She said that she was working for the ABC News/
It was as much of the alphabet as she knew how to use.’
It’s a great lyric, but it’s sadly undermined by Elvis pronouncing it ‘alphrabet’.
“Ay ebslooootly hevnt been drinkening, ossiffer!”
“When England was the whore of the world
Margaret was her madam”
I’ve never heard Misstra in any other context – is it insulting in itself? Is it a version of “Get Madam!!”?
Great song though, and the most bizarre omission from the Musiquarium compo.