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Idle Idols II Happy as Larry


Larry

Have You Seen the News?

Larry ain’t so happy, he’s stuck on the M1 Remembering times from 1981 But he knows that was just back in the day He works nine till five and he’s got three kids, His only joy in life is a twenty deck of cigs But he knows that’s the way he is

He works all year for a two-week holiday To sunny Spain a relaxing getaway To watch Eastenders in the blistering To tell the neighbors, and feel like he can compete

Larry learnt the hard way; you can’t make no living off slot machines Every 50p he seemed to roll it down that one-way street You may be forty but don’t let yourself have a sell by date You can do anything you want But not that Larry ain’t so happy, he’s pissed off a cider All he want’s to do is lay beside her But she knows that’s what all men say He drives all night, get’s home at one And he’s up in the morning to stare at The Sun Shame he never gets past page three Larry ain’t so happy, he’s moaning and bitching He sold his soul just to sell you that kitchen Darlin’ he’ll only do that price for today He left his school at just sixteen With a packet of fags and a pocket full of dreams Both burnt out, until today

Have you seen the news these kids are running riot, And a six-week guide for so and so’s diet, It’s not the same as back in the day Went to pot when they took the cane away He pins his life on that one lotto slip It’s a ticket out of here, a one-way trip Six numbers and a bonus ball Man on the telly says you’ve won fuck all Office parties with a grim beige spread, Boss gets too drunk, dances with a tie round his head, It’s a bleak outlook for any person A bleak outlook for an entire generation


Idle Street Charlie sweeps floors at 24, But there’s no room left under the mat She bundles his rags into two bin bags, But she wasn’t too happy about that She always thought he was Mr. Right, Was so surprised when her mister left Invested her plans into one more man, Every loss was a little death The mistress of crime lives at 39 she doesn’t care what the neighbours think The grass might be greener on the other side but the good stuff is under the sink Her idea of fun is getting the kitchen done so she calls the man around She squares him up and then she lays him out his feet didn’t touch the ground Three doors down a foolish king left his crown In the glove box of his Vauxhall Corsa Some young scallywag with two bin bags, The object of his wayward daughter Put the window through Connected red and blue And the king gave out a shout He didn’t care about the cost of his car But he’d lost his only way out. Oh then they go Idle Street Left him on his knees, begging please


Charlie Blow That girl, that girl lumping around a crate
 The one with the slag lines
 She kicks below the waist
 She may walk the walk
 She may talk the talk
 She’s a friend of Billy’s 
 She even plays with chalk

 And I know,
her name is Charlie Blow
 My girl, my girl white line
 My girl, my girl you left me high

 That boy, that boy knocks round the council estate
 Dragon chaser extraordinaire
 You know the back alley is
 His best mate
 He trips on the walk
 He stutters on the talk
 He befriended Billy Whizz Bet you can guess what they did

 And I know, 
Her name is Charlie Blow 
 My girl, my girl white line
 My girl, my girl you left me high


Femme Fagin

For the Lads

She’s treachery in high heels A stone cold villain to the bone A quickie with her parole officer Before he knew it she fled to Rome

How does he do it
 Walks out with two girls on each arm
 Is it his sly slight of hand
 Or his encapsulating charm
 You can tell he was the best looking
 Looker in his school 
 That bottle in his hand is both a weapon and a tool



A female Fagin dressed to the nines A spitting image of Ms. Monroe Honesty and integrity is like Blood from a stone Femme Fagin will rip you off Femme Fagin will rip you off Femme Fagin will tear you down Femme Fagin will tear you down

His hobbies include adultery 
 This makes him a man you see
 To the lads 
 To the lads and that is all that matters to him



She’ll crush your heart with a mere glance Another notch on her gold bedpost Inmate 121 in Femme Fagin’s jail Has nout but a length of rope

My how they loved him
 Because he didn’t give a shite
 He’d never miss a party
 Or pass up on a fight 
 Then on that bloody Sunday afternoon at ten past four
 Two tall men in uniform came knocking at his door



The nights grow long and the days are short She left this country in turmoil Now Femme Fagin’s nothing but a mere ghost Kicked of British soilt

His life now includes sedation
 This gets him admiration 
 From the lads
 From the lads but they are slowly slipping away from him
 His routine now includes probation
 The same old story plagues our nation
 And his lads
 Well we don’t really want to talk to him



Why did he do it, he was such a lovely lad
 His nan said he was the spitting image
of his patriotic dad
 Who fought on foreign shores, to ‘keep his country free’
 He’d hate the fact his little boy
 Had joined the BNP

 His rag-tag army are on parade
 His Dad is slowly spinning in his grave
 For his lad, ‘cos that was all that mattered to him.


Happy as Larry  

A comic based on the concepts of songs written by Littlemores

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