1. |
Straight from the Dick
04:55
|
|||
|
It’s popped, the collar on my tight polo shirt
My bootcut G-Stars flow over my moccasins
Minus three but jackets are as gay as ice cream
Me and the lads cross streams behind some Biffa bins
But this pub and that pub have options of vegan grub
Ask for a steak these days all you get is arrested
This place looks like a Spoons so why are my nephews drinking in here
And now starting to block the entrance
We’re just here for lager, Stereophonics and mince
Let shoot some truth straight from the dick
Yer weans look like ham orcs
And your wife resents you for that
Let me shoot some truth straight from the dick
The queen’s no gonnae shag ye
But the Bullingdon boys will make sure you’re fucked
We end up in a Topolabamba what the fuck?
They serve lager, the food’s great but I still convince the lads I think it’s foreign muck
They can’t know, they mustn’t know, they will never know
That I never enjoyed Roy Chubby Brown’s UFO
My dinner’s on the pavement, the polis are taking statements
From the guy I smacked but I made tracks ‘cause of four prior abatements
It’s chippy time for us, we cross streams on the bus
We sing land of hope and glory but they don’t know the words
We’re all about to part ways but Tam’s no had his day till he’s slapped us wae his dick
But in a straight way
I sit alone at a swing park the WhatsApp my wife sent suggested she’ll be up for three hours more
Interacting with my family is a great chore
(chorus)
|
||||
2. |
The Killer Inside Keith
03:18
|
|||
|
I saw a man
I did not like that man
Or his big face
I farted on his face
It really threw the entire interview
And whilst unphased the host addressed my grace
Nine weans estranged
Ratings unchanged
Thick purse
Thick skull
I'm just our scoundrel
I'm getting away wae it
I kicked a dug in the baws
Then I got promoted
And a blind guy got demoted
Four lives ended at my hands
I wrecked a minibus
I was only mildly concust
Check oot ma hoose
Ma fickin massive hoose
This fundraiser will pay for the glazer
This village can go one more without
A clean water supply
I kicked a dug in the baws
Then I got promoted
And a blind guy got demoted
Four lives ended at my hands
Young lives
|
||||
3. |
Ardverts
03:25
|
|||
|
You spend to long on that computer, son
In my day we pickled conkers for fun
It’s aw just tits and black-market pancreas
It’s only good for sneezing pandas
And auto trader online
How will you find the time
To remember the war dead and tape me Question Time?
Turn off that blue-pill-box you daft old cunt
It won’t even report NASA’s publicity stunts
It’s all just Bergerac and lib propaganda
You probably think adrenochrome is used to polish your car
Hilary Clinton’s a paedo
There is no other place
Where you can cultivate takes on eugenics and order a fireplace
I read something in The Sun
I will not become groomed online by Jeremy Corbyn
Let’s find some common ground, son
You’re now willing to try it
An all-meat diet
We’ll bring back the Yorkie’s not for girls ad campaign, you’ll see
You’ve got David Icke and I’ve got V
You read something in The Sun
You will not become
Groomed online by Jeremy Corbyn
Let’s find some common ground, dad
I’m now willing to try it
An all-meat diet
We’ll bring back the Yorkie’s not for girls ad campaign, you’ll see
I’ve got David Icke and you’ve got V
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
The Ghost of Personal Reggie
It's been a tough week, baby for our lead character, Matt
His wife just left him, the final straw this time
Was his aggressive addiction to defending Ricky Gervais online
Baby, now his tenants moved out; he's been shirking responsibilities
And now he's on his knees,
Selling his tickets to see Fun he bought for his son in London
(Distant son, whom he promised he'd leave the flat to
And that's a promise he regretfully made high on cocaine at his own mum's funeral)
But the stars align for me tonight, bitches
I've got a flat, I'm gonna stay in that
At least that's not in her dad's name
No, that's in my own fuckin' name, yeah!
It's all coming up for Matt
Landing on my feet just like a dog
I'll find a girl who likes my BMW
Enough to let me touch her fanny and her boobs
And maybe borrow £13.6k for a deposit too
But as Matt settled into the flat for the night, things wurny quite right, he kept getting wee frights, in fact, a couple even made him dae a wee shite.
Matt was in the shower and it suddenly ran cold
It's only him in here tonight it must be a poltergeist (oh no, he just did a wee shite)
He rests his weary head but there's a rapping at the window and a scraping from below
There's a scream from the next room
He shites and then concludes
All the torment through the night's been the result of his ineptitude
The boiler was last serviced in 03, bitches
The single glazed window broke the year before
The mouse droppings all over the floor explain the hellish scraping from bellow, yeah!
(chorus)
Then Matt found a title deed underneath a shoogley table
Signed Reginald Personal, it read:
'I did not respect the previous owner's wishes then
He swore if anyone bought-to-let a curse would be placed on them'
Then Matt's blood ran cold; he'd explained everything but the scream
Personal Reggie appeared and spoke agleam:
"Matt, your body's in a hearse, welcome to this curse
You're now part of the extended conjuring universe"
|
||||
5. |
I Just Love Ernie Hudson
03:47
|
|||
|
Channel hopping stops here
Better fill my big cup
This film’s gained three more stars
Ernie Hudson’s showed up
His voice makes my knees go
I’m swept up in his charms
For a pretty auld guy
He’s got pretty big arms
Onions make him fart
Big time
When he’s onscreen I’m reminded it can’t rain all the time
Congo is the best, man
His smooth English accent
Sold the best scene ever
No joke this is how it went:
He fired a missile out the sky
With a fucking flare gun
Then strapped a gorilla to his chest
And jumped out a plane narrowly avoiding its explosion
(chorus)
|
||||
6. |
Hit Send
01:09
|
|||
7. |
Tamper Tentrum
03:27
|
|||
|
I had a bad tooth so I ripped it out
But the rot git to my brain
I’m always bealin’, knuckles-scraped-on-artex-ceilings
Wee nip on my willy vein
Turns out a bitta dosh counts for fuck all
When yer heid’s a toby jug fulla tears
Now I can finally afford to be alive
I’d rather no be, cheers
The sky isn’t falling in
I just live too close to England
But it’s pishin’ rain all the same from the border up all round and inland
This illness is just like the wee shadow demons fae the film ghost
This daily stress will never amount
To any more than a fortnight on the coast
And what’s the point in fourty hour weeks
If I canny even enjoy avocado on toasr
And what’s the point of paying into a pension
If I’ll be working till I die
And what’s the fuckin point of anything
On this 12:01 island where one percent will always thrive
HND essential for entry level admin
Ten years’ service gets you a pot to pish in
A pay in permafrost at her majesty’s pleasure
The only thing competing with inflation is yer blood pressure
Get yersell a clubcard, the app is handy too
The CEO will thank ye the cashier canny choose
Sixty years of slowly making up a clown
And I’m running out of reasons not to burn it all down
(chorus)
|
||||
8. |
DragonCop
01:35
|
|||
|
I’ve got a snake for a spine and I’ll fly down on wings of bacon
I’ll be taking back my time back
I have been granted this sword
Forged in flames of justice, ground in granite, in the name of our lord
With my warrior training complete
I’ll be replete with impunity this whole city will lick my sack
For each bogwash I received
I’ll arrive at a mental health call on motherfucking horseback
I’ll put Fergus and Gregor here
In a taxi after this callout they’re just balls-out after the sevens
As for Faiza and Afreen
It’s intensive care for them for reporting a hate crime
You see me coming, better make a broad swerve
I’ve no time for your type while I’m meeting the needs of the people I serve
In the interest of social safety
I’m armed to the tits yet still all I hear are folk shouting ACAB
I’ll set my hounds on you then charge you for fighting them off
I’ll pour your drink out, no not you, just the compliant goth
I’ll kettle protesters or any other adversaries
And leave the rest to my publicist, the reactionaries
Now that I’ve dropped song for alarmists to sing along
I’ll bang some lines of ching, this wedding’s taking far too long
I’ll bic my dome in my four bedroom home to boost my aura
Me and the boys from the lodge have a big walk planned the morra
We have been granted this sword
And we will always bring it down as long as the good folk in our towns
Wave the Judge Dredd manifesto every-fuckin-where they
And though it may seem quite obscene
My boots have never been so clean
|
||||
9. |
||||
|
Sit down Tarquin, let me begin
No union jack in this establishment is not grounds to draw swords
The imbalance of our interests don’t just stop at dystopian cravings
Mr Brain’s Pork Faggots
Toad in the hole
Jellied eels
They all taste great with a stiff upper lip
Being loud on all-inclusive holidays
Iron Maiden
Great British Bake Off
Top Gear
The Beeb
The accent
British has always meant English the Welsh have also been catfished
Establishing shots of Britain, Westminster is oh so fitting
Still wee perpetuate that we play golf in our kilts in huts of silt
Happy with this Outlander depiction tbh the truth is sadder than fiction
(chorus)
|
||||
10. |
||||
|
It’s gin-o’clock for her
She’s ninety percent chip, ten percent shoulder
If you’ve got a day she’ll spoil it
‘Cause when she was nine a cousin slagged her for having three toilets
She just found out daddy’s leveraged buyout
Did not get rid of hostile takeover bids
So now she’s exploring replacement theory
Purse those virgin lips
And pish on everyone’s chips
It might get you those shoes off Balenciaga
It’ll definitely no make you a shagger
Tell them all why unions are for the workshy
Your team are bored there’s no cocktail they can afford
This bar you picked is ironically playing good tunes
And one by one they all slip out and reconvene at Spoons
She won’t approve your annual leave
You kissed HR Steve
Your review will end with a disciplinary hearing via Teams
|
||||
If you like Sneeze, you may also like:
THATCHER'S TECHBASE ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK
by Barry "Epoch" Topping
supported by 4 fans who also own “The Unionists Are At It Again”
2021's video game soundtrack of the year.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 31, 2023
go to album
Chasing Ghosts
by Stabbing Westward
The industrial rock heavyweights return with their first album in over 20 years, produced by John Fryer (Nine Inch Nails, Cocteau Twins).
go to album
Dillinger Escape Plan frontman Greg Puciato channels industrial metal and sludge rock on a sinister new solo track.
go to album
The woozy indie rock on this EP is perfect for cruising down an empty highway on a summer afternoon, top down, volume up.
go to album
Time Lapse EP
by Monzanto Sound
featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 11, 2020
go to album
