Tim Minchin: So Live (2007) Movie Script

I am so fucking rock
I am so Goddamn rock
I am so motherfucking rock
I am so fucking rock
I am so Goddamn rock
I am so motherfucking rock
I am so fucking rock
I am so Goddamn rock
I am so motherfucking rock
I am so fucking rock
I am so goddamn rock
I am so motherfucking rock
I am so fucking rock
I am so goddamn rock
I am so motherfucking rock
Don't you know you wanna rock it with me
If you came expecting a burlesque show
With girls in nipple tassels and a flying trapeze
I'm sorry but I'm going to have to disappoint you
You should have read your program more carefully
If you came expecting liturgical dancing
With new interpretations of the story of Moses
I'm sorry but I'm think you will be disappointed
You've made an error during the booking process
But if you came to see ...
I'm really happy that you achieved your intentions
Cos it's all very well to live in the moment
But planning is important is you want to achieve your goals
And maybe have some savings when you're old!
I am so fucking rock
I am so goddamn rock
I am so motherfucking rock
I worked very hard for my rock 'n' roll hair
I get it chemically straightened and I style it for hours
And I worked very hard for a rock 'n' roll face
I've got the kooky contact lenses and the girly mascara
But there is something deeper inside
Something that this mask I wear won't hide
I paid lots of money for this big piano
And the fancy, fancy lights to make me look like Michael Jackson
I paid lots of money for this bohemian coat
And the fact I dont wear shoes is just an affectation
But there is something deeper inside
Something that this costume cannot hide
Something from a distance you wont see
Something fundamentally me!
I am so ... rock
I am so goddamn rock
I'm mother- fuck-
Hear me rocking on the piano,
sing, go!
The guitar!
I am so fucking rock
I am so goddamn rock
I am so motherfucking rock.
Dont you know you wanna
Rock it with me
Rock it with me!
Rock it with me!
All the ladies in the house,
come on and let me hear you say "Hey-oh!"
-Look at you.
- You rocked it.
- Yeah, fucking rock!
All the fellas in the house,
come on and let me hear you say
All the ladies in the house,
come on and let me hear you say:
"I'm not good with maps.
But I have a highly developed emotional intelligence!"
-I have emotional intelligen-
Oh, I'm sorry.
All the f-
This is a love song.
Your love for me is not debatable
Your sexual appetite's insatiable
You never ever make me waitable
Delectable, inflatable you.
You don't have problems with your weight at all
You never steal food off my plate at all
I never have to masturbate at all
Unstoppable, inflatable you.
You never seem to menstruate at all
So you're not angry when I'm late at all
I feel permanently felatable
Unpoppable, inflatable you.
With you in my arms I feel we could just fly away
With the right kind of gas I might even try it some day
In this ocean of life I'm never afraid we might drown
We could just float forever whatever the weather
Whenever my inflatable lover's around.
Your thighs and buttocks are so holdable
You always do just what you are toldable
And if we argue you just foldable
Controllable consolable you.
My mates all reckon you are suitable
I took you round to watch the footable
And Steve and Gary said you're rootable
Refutable, commutable you.
You're never sensitive or tickley
When I rub you my skin goes prickerly
It's know an static electricity
Felicity when I'm kissing you.
Your skin is so smooth,
I couldn't afford you with hair
You have all the holes real girls have got
plus one for the air
Your problems are simple,
I don't need my Masters in Psych
To know if you get down I just perk you right up
With a couple of squirts from the pump off my bike.
You never wake up when I snore at all
A trait which I find quite adorable
You have a box and you are storable
Ignorable, back-doorable you.
Any sexual position's feasible
Although you don't bend at the knees at all
Your hooters are so firm and squeezable
Increasable, un-creasable you.
You don't complain about my hairy back
Or 'bout the inches that downstairs I lack
You're not disgusted by my furry crack
Burt Bacharach
Jack Kerouac
Now birth control is not an issue
No! I clean it all off with a t-
I bet my jealous friend all wish you
Were insatiably inflatably theirs.
Piano solo, me.
Dont let me down.
And I wont let you
Uh, hello.
What's your name?
How are you all doing?
And you?
Oh, thank you, fu-
What a relief!
I thought, for a second there,
you hadn't elected a leader.
And it was complete anarchy.
I'm fine, thank you.
What's your name, leader?
Like a little church.
Generous like a church.
Thanks for asking.
Um, I'm fine, good!
Uh, I'm Tim, for those of you who just, sort of
popped down, taking a punt on a small newspaper there, or something.
I'll just give you a bit of background, I'm a-
a person. I ...
Uh, grew- I grew up- Born and bred in Perth, West Australia.
Thank you, I-
I did next to nothing to earn that priviledge.
But, uh. Um ... Thanks anyway.
I now live in, um, London, in the United Kingdom.
Which is, uh, great! Perth has-
Are you guys from Perth?
Yeah, oh right. Well, as you know, it's quite a quiet place,
those of you who have visited.
It's quite a small place. London's very busy.
It's got a real sense of excitement.
I mean, I love Perth. But London's got this sort of
sense of urban danger, which is very seductive.
You know, where I live, in the North, right,
for example, an ambulance seems to go past my house
with its sirens blaring like once every three minute.
That seems to be a statistically improbable number of
North Londoners requiring urgent medical attention.
At any given time, and
you can't help but feel excited because, odds are ...
You can't help but feel that one of these days,
one of these ambulances is gonna come for you.
And it's different over here.
Even the ambulan- I mean, the ambulances,
for example, every time they go past my house,
I notice they have, their writing's green, for one. That's weird.
And it says on the side, in big letters:
Which is, like- Surely the adjective is
kind of implied by the noun.
But then, I figure it's just to distinguish them from our
ones over here.
They're just normal ambulances, you know?
They're a bit more laid-back.
They don't really emerge.
They just kinda ambulate.
Hang out in parks.
Like massively over-equipped Mr. Whippy vans.
Everything's more complicated: the taxis!
You know, in Australia, they just have taxis.
You just ring one, you get in and you go somewhere.
They've got different types of taxis.
The main one, of course, the famous black cab,
you know, the English cab.
And they're, you know, proper,
and they've got proper English cabbies.
And then they've got this whole other set of taxis
called mini-cabs.
You guys heard of mini-cabs?
Been to London a bit?
They just look like normal cars,
but they have a special sticker,
and the driver has a special license,
and he's allowed to act as a taxi.
Then there's this whole other group of public transport.
Vehicles that I hadn't heard about when I moved there.
And they're called "illegal mini-cabs".
And they're just dudes in cars.
And they're only cab drivers in the same sense that
my mate Pete is a pharmacist.
And as the name suggests, they are illegal!
They're a bit of a, this sort of scary thing in London.
I'd never heard of them,
but when I first got there, i was staying, um,
near, uh, Old Street Station,
which is on the northern- those Londoners, you know Old Street.
I was staying on New North Road, just near Old Street.
And I was walking down New North Rd, when I first got there
uh, towards Old Street,
and I came across a bus stop, with a bus stop advertisment.
You know, so it's six foot high, and it said:
"If you wanna know how much an illegal
mini-cab could cost you,
You seen these?
ask a rape victim."
That's so- that- I felt shocked!
I was like "Look, I get the point you're trying to get across,
I mean it's very important, but
in the middle of the street! A child could read-" I was-
I just thought, that's not necessary, that sort of thing.
But I sure learnt my lesson.
Because a couple of nights later,
after I saw this sign, I was in Soho,
having a drink with some friends,
I went to the bar, and I met a girl, you know,
just "What are you getting?", that sort of meeting.
And I got talking to this girl, she was a
really great girl, and we got chatting, and
we talked all night, be we got pretty drunk, um.
And eventually it got sort of, heavy, the conversation,
and she disclosed to me that she had been, um,
the victim of a sexual assault.
So I asked her
how much
an illegal mini-cab would cost,
from Soho to New North Rd, near Old St,
where I was staying.
And I'll never forget what she said.
She said:
"About 8.50."
I mean, it was closer to 9,
but I'm surprised this system works at all.
But apart from the, sort of, ambulances,
and the dangerous public transport,
London, ah, is great. It's definitely the place for me,
because, to be honest, um,
I'm trying to,
I'm trying to get famous.
And, uh, you know, celebrities belong
in London, I think.
It's a great place for them to bring up
the kids they've bought.
Off poor people who live in less great places.
And I'm not doing great, but I have met some famous people.
I've gotta tell you about this gig,
cause it was really exciting.
I did a charity gig, and I had to go on stage
after Mariah Carey!
I kinda went straight after her,
and played 'Inflatable You'.
It wasn't deliberate, but it sure resonated
with a poignancy that it hadn't before.
I was standing- I was really nervous, as you can imagine,
I was standing backstage, watching this woman, this-
one of the greatest
pop voices of all time, just tearing it to
shreds on stage,in this tiny little dress, going-
And I was just thinking, well, how can I go on after that?
You know? That's amazing!
And this dude is backstage,
dude came up to me and said, uh,
"She's lip-syncing."
Oh, I thought "What a jip!", you know?
Suddenly, the magic
that is Mariah Carey kinda disappeared. You know, it's,
it felt like I was watching a sort of cheap drag show.
But without the intrigue of transvesticism.
To my knowledge.
And also I thought: "Sure, Mariah,
you're a professional, you have your reasons.
Lip-sync if you want to.
But if you're gonna lip-sync,
why would you do a Mariah Carey song?"
This is a song about the music industry,
trying to get famous, and having no depth.
He doesn't have a problem with drugs,
He just doesn't do them,
He's fine that his mates have tattoos,
But he reckons they'll rue them,
He likes going to pubs,
But he hates it when the music's too loud,
He tends not to go to rock concerts,
'Cause he can't stand the crowds,
But all he's ever wanted to be
Is a rock star on RAGE or MTV,
But he knows that it's not fucking likely,
He just turned thirty, he knows that he
Will always be
A rock'n'roll nerd,
He'll keep writing songs the world will never hear,
And though they won't be heard
He'll just keep writing,
oh yeah
But you see the problem is
He always dreamt of being a star,
But he learnt piano instead of guitar,
Which in the nineties didn't get you very far,
So while the other kids were learning Stairway
He was the piano to their forte,
But he was convinced one day
He'd rock their fucking arses,
And be an icon for the disenfranchised masses,
Grow his hair long and rebel against the state,
But just for now that'd have to wait,
'Cause he's running late for his morning classes.
And he will always be
A rock'n'roll nerd,
He'll keep playing gigs that no-one knows about,
And though it sounds absurd
He'll just keep playing,
oh yeah,
But you see the problem is
There's not much depth in what he's singing,
He's a victim of his upper-middle class upbringing,
So he can't write about the 'hood, or bling-bling,
So he sits and imagines his girlfriend is dead
To try and evoke some angst in his middle class head,
But the bitch is always fine at half past nine when they go to bed,
He's not spent a single night in prison,
He has no issues with nutrition,
He has no drinking problem and no drug addiction
Unless you count the drugs they put in chicken,
Marijuana always tends to make him cough,
He doesn't look good with his t-shirt off,
And when he tries to act tough, you can tell he's tricking.
While his mates go out out late,
Popping pills and havin fun,
He goes home and showers,
And gets a good eight hours,
He gets his thrills from his morning run,
While his mates all go on dates,
Taking speed and drinking cans of Gin-Beam,
He stays home and cooks,
And curls up with a book,
With the girl he's had since he was seventeen
'Cause he's never really been part of the scene,
While the other kids liked Gunners he liked Queen,
He's more into Beatles that the Stones,
He's more Stevie Wonder than Ramones,
He never owned a panel van,
He never shot a Pantera fan,
He doesn't know the difference between metal and thrash,
He couldn't tell you nothing about Axl and Slash,
He likes Ben Folds and The Jackson Five,
He knows all the words to Stayin' Alive,
And though he wants to be all grungy and cool
He spent eleven years in a private school,
So it doesn't matter how hard he tries,
He cannot hide behind his rock'n'roll lies,
'Cause you've either got it or you don't,
Yeah, you'll either rock it or you won't,
You've either got it or you don't,
Yeah, you'll either rock it or you wont.
He knows that his music lacks depth
But it just can't be helped,
He has nothing interesting to say
So he writes about
But he doesn't want to seem self-obsessed
So he writes in third person,
In an attempt to seem more rock'n'roll
But he suspects it's not working,
And deep in his heart he knows he
Will never be Bono or Bowie
And even if he was quite pretty
In small pants like Kylie
He knows that he ...
Will always be
A rock'n'roll nerd,
He'll keep writing songs the world don't care about,
And though it sounds absurd
He'll just keep writing
oh yeah, yeah, yeah,
You can criticise him but he won't care,
'Cause he wants to rock, and he will never be deterred,
But he'll always be a fucked-up little tryhard wannabe rock'n'roll nerd.
A rock'n'roll nerd.
So, I- I-
Thanks, thanks, uh ...
I have a problem with stockbrokers.
Um, it's not-
Is there any stockbrokers in the audience?
I don't wanna upset anyone, it's not-
I don't have a problem with the job you're doing. I'm not even, um-
I'm not even entirely sure what it is.
Um. My problem is a gramatical issue.
Because 'broke' is the past tense of 'break'.
So, strictly, I don't think you can have a broker.
I don't call myself a sanger.
This is a song about, um, the conversation I had
with a stockbroker, in a pub once.
It's actually a beat-poem.
Cool, huh?
It's called, uh,
'Mitsubishi Colt'.
He looks at me - intensely
Eyes sparkle,
Contact lens green with artifical envy
Cocks his head and fixes me with a condescending stare
Flicks his bleached, blond tipped hair
And theorises thus:
You know what I reckon?
Pause for effect
Adjusts his tackle as if its semi-erect
I figure Id better give him what I know he expects
What do you reckon?
A hand on the shoulder
An avuncular wink
Sips his lemon drink
Spits out the pips
Hands on hips
Licks his lips
Like a wolf near a flock
Yet again adjusting this fantasy cock
He delivers his philosophy
I reckon it dont matter
It dont mean squat
What you earn or what you got
Or the style of your hair
Or what you wear
It matters not
Like what do you care
That I live on a hill with views of the beach
That my chicks and my dogs have an en-suite bathroom each
That Ive already reached my first 10 million and Im only 36
Youre as thick as two bricks
If you think you can fix
What is broke in your life with money
And the funny thing is
And I shit you not
I would give it all up like that
He leaves me to ponder his wisdom for a bit
And with a click of his fingers
He beckons the blondest, bimbo-est barmaid
And grinning ridiculously
Orders a G and And a beer, for me
And before I can escape
Hes back saying
Cos mate, the thing is
All of that crap
Its all superficial
Its all just a front
Imean, anyone can be a rich cunt
But the thing we all want
Cant be bought with dosh
You know what I mean boss?
Cos it's not like you give a toss
That when I want to get slim
Ive got my own private gym
And a personal trainer called
Danielle or
fucking Darlene
Shes got tits
Like those chicks
In Playboy magazine
And its not like you care
That I own the controlling share
Of an overseas company
That builds accounting software
It matters not one bit
I mean who gives a shit
If I earn six hundred grand
And drive a brand new land rover
You know I would hand it all over like that
He pauses for a beat
Long enough for me to retreat to a seat
And sit, elbow on the bar
And contemplate this guru
With his white teeth and big car
And ponder silently my belief
That genius comes in many forms
And that this
postulating, peroxided porn-star prick
aint one of them
My specultaion cut short
As he reforms
Like Terminator II
And before I have time to abort
He descends upon me and snorts
I guess what Im trying to say
In my own little way
Is that I reckon that musos and artists and that
Well I reckon theyre great
I know some people reckon you guys just sit on your bums
And dont get out of bed til the pizza man comes
And smoke cones
And take crack
And wack-off all day
But I dont care what they say
And I dont listen to people
Who say that all actors are gay
Not that I dont think thats OK
As far as Im concerned
Although its not my bag
If you wanna be a fag
Be a fag yknow?
Who am I to say
Where you come and where you go
In the privacy of your own homo
Ha ha
Ha ha
Ha ha
Ha ha
Hes shitting me now
And my eyes start to glaze
And through the haze of my anger
I notice his G and T is gone
And hes starting to dribble
As he dribbles on and fucking on
But you musos are alright
I dont know much about music but I know what I like
And I reckon Id give it all in
To be like you Jim, Tim
I mean you might be poor in monetary terms
But what you earn spiritually
What makes you what you are
Just means so much more
Than what you get from a really nice car
Or a tennis court
Or holidays in Greece
Or a house on the beach
Or stock market shares
Or thirty-one pairs
Of Calvin Klein underwear
Do you understand? You are a wealthy, wealthy man
And mate, I dont want to piss in your pocket
But ive gotta say
Before I get on my way
That honestly
And Im not having you on
I reckon on day you could play piano as good as Elton John!
The cops are still mingling
Though the crowds shuffled out
Ive got ice on my hand
Where my fist met his mouth
And although I explained
That it wasnt my fault
Ive a 800 buck fine
For aggravated assault
So before it gets worse
I reckon Ill bolt
A wealthy, wealthy man
In a 1981
Is everyone relaxed?
- Yeah!
- So! Um.
I've been, um-
I've been, uh-
Uh ...
I've got this little personal confession.
I've been, um-
I've been going to see a psychologist, recently.
I know,well peo- I know, I know, that's weird.
Because, obviously, on stage I look like ...
totally well-adjusted, and ...
So it comes as a surprise.
But I've been, um...
just been to this psy-
And it's not a big deal.
It's just talking about stuff, the little things that I think I, you know, could probably just [?].
And one of the issues I have is, um,
with anger.
So, I don't get ...
I don't get angry.
Um, so the issue is not really an anger issue,
it's that
I don't know how to express anger.
Which is nice! I'm basi-
It's nice to be diplomatic and stuff, but I-
It comes from a fear of confrontation, I think.
So, um...
So ...
I've been talking to this-
Cos I worry about what's happening to all that anger that, like-
Anger that I'm not expressing, you know?
So, anyway, he reckons what I should do
is write my feelings down.
Thereby expressing myself without
having to confront anyone.
So that I don't , you know, um, bottle it up.
And, um. So I've been doing that, I've been doing
some writing. And I've written a poem.
Which is really helpful to write.
I think it might be even more helpful to sort of do
in front of a sympathetic,
non-judgmental, kind and neutral crowd like you guys.
So, this is, um, this is my poem.
It's called, uh, I've given it a title.
It's called
Or, in brackets : '(Feet)'.
Bit nervous 'cause of you guys.
It's like a bit more personal and everything.
Sometimes I get a bit angry
But you couldn't tell, no you couldn't tell
Unless you looked real closely
Sometimes I get a bit angry
But it's alright, yes it's alright
Cause I keep it out of sight
Inside, deep inside
I breast fed 'til I was nine
Which my QUACK...
doctor says is fine
And he also says I'd deal with anger better
If I wrote about myself in a poem or a letter
My mother was a FUCKING BITCH...
caring lady
She taught me all I know
Although I was a little slow, she never gave up
She never let me Slut
Although she spent a lot of time at the neighbour's house
When my dad was out of town
I didn't walk 'til I was seven,
or talk 'til I was ten
But neither did Napoleon, according to my QUACK
fucking doctor
Who has certificates in frames
To substantiate his Dodgy Fucking...
My father left my mother for the love of a PANTANG...
And I have a Bastard brother who I've never really known
Because me dad moved up to Sidney
And he doesn't have a Bullshit You Fat Cunt...
In primary school I had trouble making ASHTRAYS...
An issue which has become somewhat of a trend
The origin of which I can not pretend does not perplex me
Although my Quack Fucking doctor says it's cool
And that loads of "Fat Prick!" "SHUT UP I'm NOT FAT"
...kids at school
Have problems with communication
And that of course some medication would be wise
And combined with more honest self expression
Could help me with my issues with emotional repression
And at 200 bucks a session
I think I'll take the Theiving Wank BASTARD Fucking chap's advice
I quite like Porn... photography
And books on GUNS... history
And I'd like to be a
And I'd like to be a POLITICIAN...
And I feel as I get older
I'm more in control of my violent tendencies
And when I die KILL...
I'll have no regrets
And I feel that all this writing
Is really Poofy exciting
And my Quack Fucking doctor would be proud
Because I feel a lot less angry
And I'm saying stuff out loud
And I'm letting anger out
Like today in our last session
When I taught the Quack a lesson
'Cause he said I'm not progressing
Said I wasn't moving forward
So I said, "Let's see how you move without your fucking legs."
And I tied him to his chair
And I pulled out my machete
And I listened to him beg
And then I cut his fucking feet off
And while he laid there bleeding
I used his feet
to kick him in the head.
Thank you GIGGLING CUNTS very much.
I hope,
I hope that was, um ...
That helped, that was really helpful.
So. ("Feel better?") Yeah,
I feel a lot better, yes. Thank you, thank you.
Um. Abbie?
Another man just asked a question.
Are you a leader, or what?
It's funny actually.
I sometimes ...
There's a bit of ... language in that, um ...
in that, uh, piece.
And I got a letter recently, from a woman,
when I was performing in Perth
saying that she didn't see why I had to use such a crass language.
And I wrote back, sort of explaining that
language changes, you know?
The whole vernacular is different, in a more-
Standards change, and- and-
And that these words are in common usage, now.
And I started this- um...
It's a true story: I saw on the front page of the
Australian newspaper, um, the word 'fuck'!
Right on the front page of the paper.
I mean, things are
changing. And all they had to do to get away
with that was spell it 'fk'.
Really weird that a little star could be enough to...
slew that fickle outrage, you know?
And, anyway, because the 'fk' is so commonly used these days,
it actually, these days, means 'fuck'.
More than 'fuck' means 'fuck'.
It's almost a couter-productive disguise.
It's like a ... Like a
wearing brown tinted aviator glasses when he goes to the pool.
If anything,
it makes him more like a paedophile.
-and I also pointed this out in my letter, um-
the protection afforded the word 'fuck' by the humble asterisk
does not necessarily applies to all words.
Even seemingly inucuous, perfeclty harmless words, like-
Any word, like-
Take the word finger, for example.
Perfectly harmless word.
But when you use it in a sentence such as:
'I want to finger your mom.'
It could be construed by some senses
as deemed offensive.
Now you have to say that the offensive word in that sentence
is the word 'finger', used in this case
as a verb.
Or a 'doing-word'.
But you would not get that sentence on the
front page of the Australian newspaper
by spelling it 'fger'.
And that's because it's the context in which the word is used
that makes it offensive.
In which case, you might be better off
spelling the sentence 'I wanna your mm."
I guess the reason I've brought that up, um-
I guess what I'm saying is,
if anyone has been offended,
so far, by any, anything,
if you're the sort of person that finds
any of that sort of stuff objectionable,
or, for that matter, if you're quite a religiou-
If you're a religious person,
You might wanna pop out for about 5 minutes ...
This is a song about ...
anal sex and God.
It's called 'Ten-Foot Cock, and a Few Hundred Virgins'.
So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins.
So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a ride on a UFO,
And when the Lord comes down in his shimmering chariot of salvation,
You're gonna be the first to know.
And so if...
God was there from the very beginning
He invented men and women,
Then He also invented wanking,
Then He said wanking was sinning.
So if I'm feeling randy
I'm not allowed to hand-shandy,
But having sex with my family,
That is just fucking great.
It's all there in Ezekial 8,
Just before He opens up His big pearly gate,
And says that it's a sin
To take it up the date,
Even if it's great,
Even with your cow-boy mate.
So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a shot at the greener grass,
And when the Lord comes down
With his shiny rod of judgement,
He's gonna kick my heathen arse.
So if you...
Cover the bodies of your women
Everybody is grinning,
Because black is so slimming,
Though it's not great for swimming.
But it gives you an erection,
With the increased sexual tension,
What with the U.V. protection
That is second to none.
You'll find it all in the Quran
Just next to the bit that justifies guns,
And says that it's a sin
To take it up the bum,
Even if it's fun,
Even with permission from your mum.
So you're gonna live in Paradise
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a shot at eternity,
And when the Lord comes down
And I haven't done my penance,
He's gonna disembowel me.
You say that...
If I...
Stumbled on a watch I'd assume it had a watchmaker,
That a muffin presupposes a baker,
So you must agree sooner or later,
That this proves there's a creator.
So if I put my foot in a stinker,
You'd assume the existence of a sphincter
Thus you don't need to be a great thinker
To coclude that God's a bum,
Which negates the words of Genesis 1
Which made Him out to be so much fun,
Until Adam succumbed
To temptation,
And then His only son
Got nailed to a gum,
Or the Middle-Eastern equivalent,
Which suggests that God's omniscience
Is nullified by His ambivilance,
Unless it turns out that He's impotent,
And if God can't get a boner,
I guess that explains the plethora
Of huge erections in His honour -
Because we all know a steeple's just a subconscious compensatory manifestation of a huge stiff penis -
Still He tells us that it's heinous
To stick a penis up your anus
Even if you're famous,
Even if you're good at tennis.
So you're gonna live in Paradise
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a ride on a UFO,
And when the Lord comes down with his big, stiff, slippery rod of judgment,
I'm gonna be the first to go,
He's gonna send me down below,
He's gonna whip me like a hoe,
Do you really think so?
I'm gonna be the first to go.
Thank you, thanks.
Thank you.
So, um. Thank, thank you.
So, sometimes, uh ...
Sometimes, 'cause material like that doesn't necessarily respect
entirely some of the, um, idiosyncracies of a couple
of major monotheistic doctines, um,
people make the assumption -upon listening
to such material- that I'm not religious myself.
Which is,uh ...
pretty spot-on.
it's sort of beside the point.
I don't wanna be divisive.
You know?
And, besides, I think
I think you can be spiritual.
I think you can have a big sense of spirituality without
actually adhering to any of the major religions, um ...
As it turns out, I'm...
not at all spiritual.
Uh ...
I've just got this real sense of ...
But I believe in things, you know?
I believe in ...
uh, rocks.
And, um...
gravity, and uh-
And I have, like a relativist morality.
Which I can manipulate to suit my world-view.
So that I can justify group-sex.
For example,
while [?] group-prayer.
Works for me.
But you have to admit, really
ironically, I guess, given all the
religious violence in the world,
one of the things that actually binds us all,
that we all have in common, across all cultures,
and indeed all time, since the beginning of recorded thought,
is this tendency to invoke the supernatural
to help us explain those things in our lives
which we find difficult to explain
using only the evidence at hand, you know?
A modern example of this:
I saw on telly recently
a show about, um,
it was called, uh ...
I think it was 'Miracles in the Womb'.
Or, or 'Extreme Wombs', or ...
Something, 'Changing Wombs'!
It wasn't that.
And, anyway, it was about multiple births.
And a women had given birth to naturally-conceived, identical quadruplet girls,
which is very rare.
And she said:
'The doctors told me there was a one in
64 millions chance that this could happen.
It's a miracle!'
But, of course, as we know, it's not.
Because things that have a one in 64 millions chance of happening,
all the time.
To presume that your 'one in 64 millions chance' thing is a miracle
is to significantly
the total number of
that there are.
It's interesting, actually, now that I live overseas,
it struck me anew, when I came back
to Australia this time, that
here, we seem-
This compulsion towards the supernatural and mystical,
seems to manifest itself, mostly, in Australia
in the presence of bumper stickers.
You know the ones I'm talking about?
They're usually purple,
and they generally imply the existence of
a benevolent spirit of some sort,
looking after us all,
especially the people who
bothered to put the sticker on their bumper.
They say things like 'The goddess is dancing', and, uh ...
My favorite probably is
'Don't drive faster than your angel can fly'.
As if, of all the possible restrictions an angel might face,
speed is the-
Unless that is proposing the possibility
of the existence of unfit angels.
And probably the one that annoys me most,
because it's most common, I think, is
- I'm sure you've all seen it-
'Magic happens'.
'Magic happens'?
They usually sparkle.
I just- I just- I don't know what it is about 'Magic
happens' stickers on cars,
but everytime I see one, I wanna get my permanent marker and
sort of sneak over and write
underneath it 'So does
cock death.'
Under which a spiritual person,
with a slightly more ephemeral marker
might choose to write something like, um ...
'Yeah, but
sometimes, the magician has to do bad magic
in order to
a) test our faith
our b) for the purpose of a greater good.'
Under which someone like me,
with their permanent marker
might choose to write something
along the lines of
'Fuck off'.
Thus ending an otherwise perfectly sensible
bumper-based philosophical argument.
I have a particular religious friend I go head-to-head with,
and get very boring at dinner parties with
on these sort of big questions, and, uh ...
He always seems to think that to be skeptical
is to be cynical.
And that my view of the world sees no beauty.
Which, I always argue, is not the case, I mean-
I find the world a really exciting place.
There are ideas that are a bit more science-y
that are just as exciting as the kind of magic he
wants, you know?
Like- One of the greatest ideas of all time: evolution!
The theory of natural selection, you know?
Not only is it, um...
um ...
How do you say?
I'm just practicing my timing for
my American tour.
Pause, 'right', and duck!
Well, I mean, not only is it good science,
bu it's also really
thrilling, don't you think, this idea that an individual
of a species can be born
sort of mutated
in a good way!
And in the moment of that individual's birth that
holds within its genetic code
the potential for its entire species to take
a huge evolutionaty leap forward.
It's amazing! And I always think, what would life
have been like
being one of those individual
mutant freaks?
You know, what did the other kids think?
Imagine being the first dude ever to have feet.
I reckon that would be really tough.
And also what I wonder is, how do these individual
with their new bits, like,
how do they figure out how to use them?
Do they just stumble upon their potential purpose
one day, just accidently, you know?
Imagine you're a fish.
And you're just swimming in the ocean
with your school, and you're just hangin out,
swimming, same as always,
'cause you're
um, fish.
And suddenly, out of nowhere,
Fucking Tony
Tony just goes ...
I'm getting out.
Yeah, I'm, uh
You're a fish, Tony.
Yeah, well I'm a cold fish. I just wanna pop out for
a bit, you know? Maybe lie on my towel.
I'll bring you an ice-cream.
- Yeah, don't bother, Tony, you're a freak.
Come on, school, let's go.
Let's otracize him for being different.
Yeah, let's ostracize him, Tony's a freak.
Let's ostracize him for being different.
No, don't ostracize me.
I'm just a little bit different.
Oh, bugger you, then!
I'll show you guys!
Fuck me!
Those are gonna come in handy!
And imagine what Tony would think
standing there on his brand new feet,
on the brink of the beginnings
of mankind as we know it, it-
If he could look forward,
just a few short
hundreds of millions of years, to see
one of his descendants,
an Israeli jew by the name of Jesus,
having a nail hammerd through his feet,
-the very feet that Tony provided him with-
as a punishment for having a sort of
schizophrenic discourse with a god,
who was created by men
to explain the existence of feet in the absence
of the knowledge of the existence of Tony.
I think that would
blow his little fishy mind.
This religious friend of mine-
Arguments often end with him telling me
that I'm not really open-minded.
And, because he's my friend and I respect him,
I've written him a song.
It's called
'If You Open Your Mind Too Much,
Your Brain Will Fall Out'.
Which I think is brilliant.
That is so, so clever.
Unfortunatly, I didn't come up with it myself,
I read that in a book.
So, to avoid copyright issues,
I've given it a subtitle,
uh, which is
'Take My Wife!'
If anyone can show me one example
in the history of the world
Of a single psychic who has been able to prove
under reasonable experimental conditions that they are able to read minds
And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Astrologer who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions
that they can predict future human events by interpreting celestial signs
And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Homeopathic Practitioner who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions
that solutions made up of infinitely tiny particles of good stuff
dissolved repeatedly into relatively huge quantities of water
have a consistently higher medicinal value than a similarly administered
And if anyone can show me just one example in the history of the world of a single
Spiritual person who has been able to show either logically or empirically
the existence of a higher power with any consciousness or interest in the human race
or ability to punish or reward humans for there moral choices
or that there is any reason - other than fear - to believe in any version of an afterlife
I will give you my piano,
one of my legs,
and my wife.
I think that's important.
I think that's important that,
even if, you know,
one's job -as it is in my case-
is to entertain, uh,
It's such an honour to have an audience like you,
watching me for hours and hours on end.
I think sometimes that I should respect that honour, by-
by trying to do something with bit of a message in it,
so it's not purely entertainment,
but there is something you guys
can take away, and in some way-
Too grand, I am,
but in some way of maybe
I think, contribute to the betterment
of the world, you know?
So, I've got this song which adresses
the environmental issue.
About which I feel very strongly, and, um,
I'd love to perform it for you now,
in the hope that maybe we can
contribute to the resolution of this issue.
Hit it.
Take your canvas bags
When you go
To the supermarket
Why use plastic bags when you know
You know the world cant take it
Take your canvas bags
When you go
To the supermarket, market, market
Dont you use those plastic ones
No, no, no
Dont you know that youll feel better for it
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
To the supermarket
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
To the supermarket
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
To the supermarket
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
To the supermarket
Break it down!
Take your canvas, take your canvas
Take your canvas bags
To the supermarket
All the ladies in the house, come on
and let me hear you say 'Canvas'!
All the fellas in the house, come on
and let me hear you say 'Bags'!
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
To the supermarket
Just think about the world
And how the world would be fantastic
If we got rid of all the plastic
We just need to get enthusiastic
Organize a competition gymnastic
Or a bag making comp at your school
Fuck it, make it interscholastic
Canvas is for everyone
Whether you be rebellious and iconoclastic
Or conservative or ecclesiastic
I dont care if youre loud and bombastic
Or quiet or virtually monastic
Sober or on the floor spastic
Yoga master or completely inelastic
Im not trying to be ironic or sarcastic
Just do something drastic
Take your canvas bags
Take your canvas bags
... to the supermarket
Black out!
This is an interval song
This is an interval song
This is an interval song
Cause it's the interval.
Who does the interval song?
Pendant le filmage de ce spectacle,
c'est ici que se trouvait l'entracte.
Maintenant que c'est un DVD, il n'y a plus besoin d'entracte
puisque l'invention du bouton pause les a rendu obsoltes.
Mais si vous voulez une tasse de th, autant la faire maintenant.
Sinon, attendez une petite seconde, parce que Tim va revenir.
Ah, le voil.
Thank you.
Thank you.
This is a song I wrote, uh...
on the morning after I got married,
to my wife.
Weve got years ahead of us
Weve got people who care for us
Yeah, weve got Sunday morning coffees in the sun
Weve got Monday night television
Yeah, weve got years of happiness
Weve got decades of laughter ahead
Yeah, weve got Christmases with family by the sea
Weve got wine and vintage cheddar
Yeah, I have everything a man could ever want
And all Ill ever need is you
Cos nothing can stop us now
Only the good times left
Nothing can stop our love
Except terminal illness
Or sudden accidental death
Thank you very much.
Never gets a huge laugh, that one.
Well I wake up in the morning at 11:47 and I cant believe I have to face
the horror of another fucking day
And the magnificent magnitude of my morning erection
merely mocks me like the sun in its optimistic greeting of the day
Managing to manifest a modicum of motivation
I meander to the kitchen make a mission out of mixing Nescafe
But the milk is going off and coffee by itself is bitter
and theres ants all through the sugar and the supermarkets miles a-fucking-way
My life is pretty sad
But I know that I should be glad.
I could be a starving Ethiope
Or a policeman in Bagdad
policeman in Bagdad
At 11:53 I instigate the days ablutions
in the hope my constitution can be altered by some action on the bowel
But the total non-existence of colonic animation seems to me the perfect metaphor
for the utter constipation of my soul
By 11:59 I have decided that my life would be immediately improved
by a carefully written list of short-term goals
But by 12.05 my list consists of 1-dot put some pants on,
2-dot go to the shop, buy some prunes and Panadol
My life is pretty shit
But I know I shouldnt whinge about it
I could be a Palestinian
Driving buses on the Gaza strip
Yeah how bad can it be?
Some people have it worse than me
I could be a Ipswitch prostitute
Or Gary Glitters family
I have no right to cry
Some people have it worse than I
I could be a thalidomide kid
With something in my eye
something in my eye
my eye
At 12:30 I realise Im feeling so dejected
that Ive totally neglected the beginning of the Jerry Springer show
So I settle on the sofa try to focus an iota of
my motor-neurones on the brilliant insights for which Jerry is known
And although on any other day a show entitled Midgets Midget Midgets
would excite me like a virgin at her year eleven ball
Today those little jelly-wresting fellas fail to free me of my misery
instead they simply serve to make me feel three foot tall
But how bad can it be?
Some people have it worse than me
I could be a junior life saver on a
Banderachi beach
Or a woman in Afghanistan
Or a Jew in the Klu Klux Klan
Or the architect of the World Trade Centre
Or a bobcat driver in Bam Iran
I could have my identity mistaken
As a bomber in an underground station
Or I could be a peace-loving speech-writer
In George Ws administration
Yeah you know that I dont have the right
To be unhappy with my life
I could be Hitlers mother
Or Shane Warnes wife
And I know that I shouldnt be bitchin
I could be in a worse position
I could be a 3-nippled naturopath
In the days of the Spanish in, the Spanish inquisition
You know I have no right, no right to cry
Some people have it much, much worse than I
I could have a serious nut allergy
And be shipwrecked on an island with a crate of Snickers bars
A jar of Nutella and a fresh baked pecan
Some people have it worse than I
So, yes, I'm, um ...
I'm married. I got married at 26.
I got married quite young.
I've been with the same woman for ... ages.
In fact- This is another little personal thing, but um,
I say- I'm telling you cos it's quite
uncommon these days,
In my generation, anyway.
I actually lost my virginity
to the woman I ended up marrying.
It's not quite as sad as it sounds.
But it's pretty fucking close to that.
We're both in our thirties now,
and one of the things that
happens, if anyone's in a long-term relationship,
and you haven't got kids yet,
when you hit 30,
The pressure to have kids just --
And it's ridiculous, because
30's just a number, you know?
How do you know that, suddenly, you hit 30,
and you're suddenly endowed with all the
attributes a parent needs, you know,
like selflessness, and ...
And, like, when I hit 30, I remember
An example : my thirtiest birthday diner,
I remember,
the sort of stuff we were talking about,
the main conversation on my birthday diner was
about what our last words would be.
We all thought it was really important to have
really kick-ass final words. Just in case, you know,
we died sooner than we thought.
We wanted to make sure we had something really good locked in.
And ...
And all I could come up with was
'Who's the world gonna revolve around now?'
That's kinda where I was at.
And it's ridiculous, cos this pressure to have kids,
you think- You'd expect it from your parents,
and from the-
the ticking of your biological clock,
or whatever, but-
But the main pressure is good old-fashioned
peer pressure, you know?
Like, what you got smoking for, in your teens.
Because all your mates are having kids,
and you feel like 'Oh, not part of the cool club anymore.
I should have a human too.'
And it's ridic-
Here you are at 30, suffering peer pressure.
And it's worse than ever,
mostly, I think, because of
digital technologies.
Because all my friends had cool little digital cameras,
cos they're so cheap and accessible these days,
and they're very proud, so it takes many photos,
and they're 'Oh, look!
There's absolutly not limit to the number of photos I can take!
And I have broad-band internet, you know,
digital technology. And so, every morning,
I wake up and, there, sure enough,
attached to an e-mail, is
another 10x8-high resolution-colour
photograph of another
fucking miracle, you know ...
And, eventually, it wears you down.
It breaks you, these photos.
You know?
And you find yourself having this ...
inevitable conversation that you thought
you'd never have. You know the one.
'What are we wainting for?' You know?
'It's never gonna be the right time.'
'It's always gonna be tough,
it's always gonna be financially difficult, but,
Why don't we just do it?
Why don't we just buy a digital camera?'
So, we did. We did, we bought one!
And, soon after, almost, it seems,
as a result, we had a child.
It's something about biology I don't understand,
but, uh ...
She's great, I've got a baby.
She's 5 months now, she's really tiny.
It seems she's, um ...
largely our responsibility.
One of the things that having a kid, um,
stops you doing is having
a lot of sex.
Initially because the toilet bits
aren't working very well.
It's very- It's quite traumatic
on the- on the-
on the, uh, toilet bits.
But, um-
I should say 'toilet bits' a few more times.
That is in general usage, isn't it ?
You do all call your genitals
your 'toilet bits', don't you ?
Don't tell me I've made a horrible faux-pas!
Turns out that only I call them my toilet bits.
The other reason-
The other reason you don't have sex
is just cos your focuses change.
But I wanna tell you a story because it actually happened,
unlike most of the crap that I talk about on stage.
I was away doing a few shows,
and my wife and my child were in Melbourne.
And when you're whiles away
from a child, suddenly there's sort of-
My sexual-self re-arose and I thought,
"Oh, I should- I should, you know, maybe
start a little bit of flirting with my wife,
in the hopes that when I get back to Melbourne,
we'll just hop straight back on."
You know.
So I thought- Being a poet,
I chose a text message as my ...
as my missive of choice, and I sent her
a message saying : "I love you
in a sexy way."
That'll work!
And, um, she sent me one back
almost immediatly that said:
"The baby just vomited in my mouth."
So, uh,
that was fine, you know,
I got the message,
went home and cried while I masturbated.
Speaking of sex,
as I want to do a lot at the moment,
one of the things that actually-
If you're in a really long-term relationship,
like, um, increasingly,
for me, anyway,
as I get on in this relationship,
I find myself getting more and more sexually
uh, paranoid.
Not with my wife,
we're totally fine,
appart from the drought.
But, um,
what I worry about,
is if I ever had to perform
sexually with another woman.
Like, with someone else.
If I had to be sexual with someone else,
like, if something happened to my marriage, like,
if my wife
in an accident, or something.
Sorry, that's-
I don't find that funny,
that's just my bad sense of humor.
I do understand that that's
"That should be her last words!"
Yeah! She's not borrowing my
fucking last words, I tell you that.
If she dies in an accident,
she'll think of her own.
And, anyway, that wouldn't make sense,
because it revolves around me.
I shouldn't say that sort of stuff about my wife.
Even if she didn't die,
even if she, like,
got a degenarative disease, and
I decided that, rather than look after her myself,
I should put her in a home,
so that I could move on with my life-
These things happen, you have to plan
for them, that's all I'm saying.
And when I'm planning for this stuff,
and I consider having sex with another woman,
um, what I-
I get paranoid about is:
how do I know if
what I'm doing
sexually, at the moment,
um, is normal?
Cos, as far as I understand,
my wife and I have a perfectly [?] sort of
sexual relationship. But you never know,
cos we've been together for a really long time,
we might have just
sort of
just drifted,
drifted from the norm.
Just bits by bits,
so we didn't notice.
I've got this scenario,
I play out in my head, where
I'm out with a new girl, and, uh,
and we're having a great time, and
I don't know, we're at a bar or something,
we've had a few drinks, and maybe it's our third date, it
really doesn't matter. But, um,
The bar closes, and
I pluck up the courage to ask her back
to my place, and she says yes, so
we go back to my place,
and I pour some more drinks, and
put on some music, and
some lamps.
And then, obviously, we actually
end up on the couch, and
we kiss, and, uh,
a little bit on with the jumper action, uh,
it's heavy petting, and then,
passion overwhelmes us,
so we stumble to the bedroom,
tearing off each other's clothes, and
I get out the Mickey Mouse ears,
and I length the bungee rope, and
obviously, the Hungr Hungry Hippos.
And all of a sudden,
out of nowhere, she's like
What are you doing?
I- I-
I thought we were just going to make love!
Why don't you just
put all that stuff away, just
for a minute, just put it down,
and come over here
just touch me.
Touch you?
Before you've pissed in the hippos?
I don't know what kind of
weird shit you're into, lady,
but if you don't piss in the hippos,
how do you know who surfs first?
If you really loved me
the way you say you do
If you love me half
as much as I love you
You would pluck a planet from the sky
Youd use a star to dot the i
In I love you
that is what youd do
Youd take a dreary sky
and you would paint it blue
If you loved me unconditionally
These are the things
that you would do for me
Because I need you
Like a fish needs the sea
Like a fire needs oxygen
Like a flower needs a bee
And if you really cared for me
Youd let me video you while you wee
Standing up in the bath,
I shouldnt even have to ask
Perhaps youll even store a little more in a flask
These are just the things that people do
When their love for one another is true
We go together
Like a cracker and Brie
Like racism and ignorance
Like bling and R&B
But if you really want to show you care
Youd let me wear your underwear
When we visit your mum,
it's a bit of harmless fun
I just like talking about your childhood
with some lace between my buns
Theres no reason for a big to-do
If your love for one another is true
We go together
Like a bird and a nest
Like Internet and porn
Like guns and the US
And if you love me like you say you do
Youd purchase forty cockatoos
And teach them to fly
in formation in the sky
And shit the words Tim is God on my ex-girlfriends Hyundai
Sure, it might be easier with doves
But shirking challenges is not what love
Is all about
Love is not all wine and roses
Sometimes its handcuffs and cheese
No-one said love is for free
And if you agree with that
Youd sing passages from the Coran
wearing nothing but a Bob the Builder hat
To the tune of waltzing Matilda
I just love the combination of Islam, nationalism and builder
Yeah, Islam
And a little-bitty builder
Yeah, I fucking love it.
Yeah, Islam
And Bob the fucking Builder!
Bob the fucking Builder!
Because I need you
Like a tick needs a tock
Like bananas need pyjamas
Like a nun needs cock
And if you want to put your love for me first
You wouldnt go through childbirth
Youd agree to adopt
so that you could stay thin
Well get a Chinese kid, it could teach us Mandarin
And communists dont make as much noise
And theyre really good at sharing their toys
Because I dig you
Like an Aussie digs pies
Like Born-Agains dig Jesus
Like Jesus dug guys
And if you love me just a modicum
You'd [?] of my perineum
Stick a finger up my bum
As I'm about to come
I've heard it's quite acceptable
and reasonably fun
Not that I'm saying that I want you to
But, hypothetically, it's something you might do
If you loved me unconditionally
Like letting me video you
while you wee
Assuming theres nothing worth watching on TV
I'll tell you, um,
uh, Palestine, eh?
Things are really bad up there.
The Muslim and the Jewish people
don't seem to get along very well in
Israel and Palestine.
It's the craziness of the circular
nature of the violence,
like, every act of violence
is just revenge
for a previous act, and in turn
we get another act, and, uh ...
And it's hard to imagine how
there's ever gonna be a lasting peace
in the region, you know,
of the circular, the self-
perpetuating nature of the violence, and
I was thinking about this the
other day, and I thought
Maybe- maybe the solution's
not gonna be
one of these huge solutions that, sort of
[?] in the papers each day,
and maybe it won't a military intervention or ...
-god forbid- or a geographical thing,
or a diplomatic solution.
But maybe- maybe what
it's gonna be is,
like, a seed.
Like maybe, maybe
peace has to come
from a peace-seed.
That's, like-
Someone plants in the region,
and it grows
into a,
like a
tree of peace.
With branches that
reach out over the whole
region, over both
Israel and Palestine,
shadowing it with its peace
It's a metaphor!
Anyway, I was thinking about this.
I was thinking about this,and I thought : Maybe!
Maybe this seed, like, maybe,
all they need is a really good peace-anthem.
So I've taken the liberty
of penning a little something, and, uh,
and I thought it would be wise to
bouce it off a relatively impartial crowd,
here, in my home country,
before I actually pop over there,
and start basking
on the Gaza strip.
So this is my peace-anthem
for Palestine. Obviously,
being an anthem, there'll be opportunity,
towards the end, for you to
sing along.
If you know the words.
We don't eat pigs,
You don't eat pigs,
It seems it's been that way forever
So if you don't eat pigs,
And we don't eat pigs,
Why not, not eat pigs together?
We don't eat pigs,
You don't eat pigs,
It seems it's been that way forever
So if you don't eat pigs,
And we don't eat pigs,
Why not, not eat pigs together, together?
We don't eat pigs,
What, wha-
Wait, wait, wait, ?
We don't eat pigs,
You don't eat pigs,
It seems it's been that way forever
So if you don't eat pigs,
And we don't eat pigs,
Why not, not eat pigs together, why not?
Why not, not eat pigs together?
One more time!
Why not, not eat pigs together, why not?
You know how in, um,
Hollywood Mills & Boon
novels and stuff,
there's this myth
perpetuated that, uh,
that, uh, love
should happen at first sight.
Or that, if it does, it's more
valuable or something, and
I've written a love song to,
sort of, redress that.
Well, it's a nice song, it's-
cos it reminds me that love
creeps up on you, you know? And, uh,
Sometimes, when you're least expecting it.
Often when you don't really want it.
So, um, this is a ...
This is a love song
about that creepy-uppy kinda love.
You grew on me
like a tumour
And you spread through me
like malignant melanoma
And now youre in my heart
I shouldve cut you out back at the start
Now Im afraid
theres no cure for me
No dose of emotional
Can halt my pathetic decline
I shouldve had you removed
back when you were benign
I picked you up
like a virus
meningococcal meningitis
Now I cant feel my legs
When youre around
I cant get out of bed
Ive left it too late to risk an operation
I know theres no hope
of a clean amputation
The successful removal of you
Would probably kill me too
You grew on me like carcinoma
Crept up on me like untreated glaucoma
Now I find it hard to see
This untreated dose of you has blinded me
I shouldve consulted my local physician
Im stuck now forever with this tunnel vision
My periphery is screwed
Wherever I look now,
all I see is you
When we first met
you seemed fickle and shallow
But my armour was no match
for your poison arrow
You are wedged inside my breast
If I tried to pull you out now
I might bleed to death
Im feeling short of breath
You grew on me like a tumour
And you spread through me
like malignant melanoma
I guess I never knew
How fast
a little mole can grow
Tell you something,
I worry, um,
I"m just about playing my last song, and-
You want me to stop now?
That's, um-
I meant, I meant-
That was a little joke about me interpreting that as
"Oh, don't play your last song."
But what it sounds like "Do you want me
to stop now?", like a teacher.
I didn't mean, like- I mean the first one,
the low status one, not the high status one.
I worry that because-
because a lot of my songs
are sort of a little bit comic,
or, like a little bit
that, um, that,
that people are gonna leave my show
thinking that I lack depth.
And I don't, I don't want that.
So, to relay that fear,
I always finish on this song.
Which I've written in the key
of C sharp Minor.
See what I'm saying?
And to kind of add to this
sense of
profundity created by the key,
I tend to change the lights as well.
Paul, have you got those, um,
those, uh,
You know what I'm saying, like a-
And with this lighting state,
combined with minor key,
I think, mostly people leave my show,
hopefully having had a good time
and everything, but also thinking
"Yeah, that guy is really deep."
So this is a, uh-
This is a song called 'Dark Side'.
And, uh,
I'll see you at the other end.
I can have a dark side
If you want me to
I can have a dark side
I can develop my brooding potential
If pains what you want in an act
Pain I can do
I can have a dark side too
I can have a dark side
I called my girlfriend up on the phone
I said, Hey g-girlfriend whats g-going wrong?
She said, Im breaking it off with you
I feel as if the ma-ma-magic has gone
I said, Hey baby whatre you talking about?
I thought that everything was just fine
She said, Thats exactly the point
I just get so annoyed how youre so happy all the time
I need somebody deeper than you
Someone with a little third-dimension
I said,
Well, I can have a dark side
If you want me to
I can have a dark side
I can develop my brooding potential
If pains what you want in a man
Pain I can do
I can have a dark side too
I can have a dark side
I can have a dark side
I can have a dark side
I wrote a letter to Mr Sony
Said, Hey S-sony whats g-going down?
Ive got a record and I reckon its wicked
And I th-think you should s-spread it around
He said, Hey Tim, I quite like your work
He said Its clever and quirky
But I promise you this
You could be clever as Voltaire
But it wont get you nowhere
If you wanna sell discs
Clever never made no one rich
It doesnt appeal to the teenage market
The teenage market!
Well, I can have a dark side
If you want me to
I can have a dark side
I can reveal my tortured internals
If pains what you want in an act
Pain I can do
I can have a dark side too
I can have a dark side too
Daddy never came to my ball games
Where are you daddy?
Daddy never came to my ball games
He never loved me
Daddy never came to my ball games
Daddy never came
Daddy never came to my ball games
Daddy never came
Daddy never came to my ball games
Daddy never came
And I,
I can have a dark side
If you want me to
If you want me to
And I,
I can have a dark side
If you want me to
I can have a dark side too
I can have a dark side
If you want me to
Yeah, I can have one
If you want me to
Yeah I,
I can have a dark side
If you want me to
Thank you.
Because of your very positive reaction,
I'm gonna do one more song.
If your reaction had have been less positive,
I would have had to think of another reason.
You know that feeling,
I think we all get that feeling sometimes,
this feeling-
You know that feeling you
get when you feel like
you're the smallest
doll in a Babooshka doll?
This is a song about that.
This is my Earth
And I live in it
Its one third dirt
And two thirds water
And it rotates and
revolves through space
At rather an impressive pace
And never even messes up my hair
And heres the really weird thing
The force created by its spin
Is the force that stops
the chaos flooding in
This is my Earth
And its fine
Its where I spend the vast
majority of my time
Its not perfect
But its mine
Its not perfect
This is my country
And I live in it
Its pretty big
And nice to walk on
And the bloke who runs my country
Has built a demagoguery
And tought us to be fearful and boring
And the weirdest thing is that he is
Conservative of politics
But really rather radical of eyebrow
This is my country
And its fine
Its where I spend the vast
majority of my time
Its not perfect
But its mine
Its not perfect
This is my house
And I live in it
Its made of cracks
And photographs
We rent it off a guy
who bought it from a guy
Who bought it from a guy
Whose grandad left it to him
And the weirdest thing is that this house
Has locks to keep the baddies out
But theyre mostly used
to lock ourselves in
This is my house
And its fine
Its where I spend the vast
majority of my time
Its not perfect
But its mine
Its not perfect
But it's mine
This is my body
And I live in it
Its 31
And 6 months old
Its changed a lot since it was new
Its done stuff it wasnt built to do
I often try to fill it up with wine
And the weirdest thing about it is
I spend so much time hating it
But it never says a bad word about me
This is my body
And its fine
Its where I spend the vast
majority of my time
Its not perfect
But its mine
Its not perfect
This is my brain
And I live in it
Its made of love
And bad song lyrics
Its tucked away behind my eyes
Where all my fucked up thoughts can hide
Cos God forbid I hurt somebody
And the weirdest thing about a mind
Is that every answer that you find
Is the basis of a brand new
This is my brain
And its fine
Its where I spend the vast
majority of my time
Its not perfect
But its mine
Its not perfect
But its mine
Its not perfect
Im not quite sure Ive worked out
how to work it
Its not perfect
But its mine