These were the days ...

... 'battle rapping' with No1 Keeper:

Yo there Keeper – where the **** ya goin ?
Am gonna show ya super, Am just like Jim Bowen.
You a waiter boy – yeah youre a garcon,
I’m da main man – just like Frank Carson.
Get your KY, cos you’re a feckin ******,
Am gonna kick it back just like Russ Abbott.
I’m so fly – but you are just da fool,
I’m crazy on da mic like Rod Hull & Emu.

Your rhymes aren’t worthy of a record needle,
In fact they’re deformed like Jeremy Beadle.
You’re rapping so loud that it’s making you horsey,
And soon you’ll end up like Roger DeCoursey.
If it’s lyrics you need – mine are dope,
Cleansing & fresh – like soap on a rope.

Pick a number – you’re gonna take a fall,
I got ya worked out – I’m like Johnny Ball.
Ya need to eat less – ya just a big porker,
Eat what you see – you just like Roy Walker.
Ya need to learn ya stuff – try some hip hop,
You just hit the bottom, while I’m the Gaz Top.
You steal Adamski lines, from his hit ‘killer’,
I’m shiny & bright – just like Mick Miller.

 

And the 'Journo' days:

To the Manilow 'Copa Cabana' thingy:

His name is Journo,
He is a big girl,
With jelly jewellery in his hair,
And his ‘Top Man’ underwear.

He’s at the paper,
The dry bum raper,
His face is smeared with man fat vapour,
He’s at the paper,
The dry bum raper ;

Dry anal passion is always in fashion,
At the paper – he got his brown wings.

 

very good.

expect a phone call from behind the goal at Chesterfield...."weir ar tha?"

Have a good un matey.

 

You going to Saltergate ?

Beers

 

I'm there.

To the tune of 'Ruby' by Kenny Rogers ;


Put on those platforms & spray on that nice synthetic hair,
Dirkster are you contemplating going out somewhere ?
The shadow on the wall tells me you must be four foot five,
Oh Dirkster - Your Bedsit is a dive.

It wasn't me who started that old crazy bar-room brawl,
The barman said he saw a gimp who was not very tall,
And yes it's true that shirt was bought in nineteen eighty three,
Oh Dirkster - you need some company.

It's hard to love a man whose face dog would never lick,
To nail you with the leets on would make any woman gip,
The Hillards box is minging from where you have just damped darn,
Oh Dirkster - Gu get thissen rarnd Tarn.

Oh Dirkster - fo God's sake turn ararnd.

 

The 'infamous' Journo line:

"I know Becky is 21, what's funny?? You haven't been linked to anyone. The difference is I've been lout with both of the ladies you mentioned, you haven't so button it."

It's just as funny today as it was then.

 

If I remember rightly

'job done'

 

Eh.

That's right that is.

I like this 'end of year review' type thingy.
It's great.

 

RE: I'm there.

To the tune of 'Hello' by Lionel Ritchie:

You've been alone with spit all down your shirt
And in my dreams the kids don’t tease – and it don’t hurt
You sometimes get called ‘spaz’ outside your door
Joey, is it **** that’s on the floor ?

I can see it in your chair
I can see it in your shorts
Are you having bowel problems, or are you into water sports ?
'Cause you’re just as thick as Jay
Although you can drink more beer
And I want to tell you so much … Bite your ear

I long to see the dandruff in your hair
And when your helper sponges you – he really ‘cares’
I bet he almost rubs your scrotum raw
Joey, can you hit him with your claw ?

'Cause your window’s full of phlegm
And you’ve never seen a fadge
Bet you’d swap a good hand shandy for your crap Blue Peter badge?
You’re a munter like Paul Hart
But you never shed a tear
But let me start by saying … bite your ear.

 

You save your 'witticisms'? On the universal scale of sadness, that's a Kajagoogoo comeback single.

 

Nope.

I save yours too.
It nearly covers an entire first class stamp cocker.

Joe Dolce's 'Shaddap a ya face':

'Allo, I'm-a Dillinger, I got-a something special-a for you, ready
Uno, duo, tre, quatro
When I was a boy, just about a week ago
Mama used to say keep away from Dirk the gnome
With the Get Away Boys, always act-a-tha fool
Young Van Der Sar going to flunk-a school

Jay, he make-a me sick, on tha PC all da time
Covering his sofa in da sticky baby brine
Ponty, make-a me sick, cos he never do any work
Got to feel-a like a fool or a ****** like-a Dirk

What's-a matter you Jay! Gotta no respect
What-a you t'ink you do? Why you look like a knob ?
Go and get a job, you got homo flair
Ah, shaddap-a you hair

That's-a my mama, come on-a Frickley
Big trouser trombone solo
Ah! Play dat again, Really nice, really nice

Soon-a come-a day, when I see TM’s star
Scarthy would-a nail even Rosanne Barr
Get-a myself a new car, Windy got it from-a his mate
I don't want-a to change a t'ing, it fell to bit’s, it just-a great

I t'ink about-a mama, she used to say

What's-a matter you Jay! Gotta no respect
What-a you t'ink you do? Why you look like a knob ?
Go and get a job, you got homo flair
Ah, shaddap-a you hair

 

Bring back feyt neet!!

 

RE: Bring back feyt neet!!

Now there's an idea..........

Who should be the combatants ?

 

I was considering doing one today.

Any suggested candidates?

'Everything but the girl':
Not sure who the subject of the song was ...

I step off the board,
I'm getting lots of stick again,
by your office door,
but you don't work there anymore.

It's days since you've been there.
And I miss your weird white hair
your chubby face,
has found some better place,

and I miss Rids
- like a carer misses flids.

Could you be wrong ?
Gordon says the money's gone.
I'd walk behind while you'd eat scone's.

I look round for your car,
If I saw your chocolate star,
That would be my wish,
Let's buy some more goldfish,

and I miss Pete -
like a fatty misses feet.

Back on my own,
I ask why Nardy's here on loan.
Can I confess
I've been wearing your wife's dress ?

I'd love to be her,
So I could rub your white back fur.
You're long gone
but I can't move on,

and I miss Rids -
like a Peado misses kids.

I step off the train,
I'm off to see Gordon again,
He's at your desk,
To him I'm just a sexual pest.

It's weeks since you've been there.
Now you've disappeared somewhere
To Thailand with Dave,
I hope you missed the wave,

and I miss Pete -
like Brazilians miss their Veet

and I miss Rids -
like Bond Scheme's missing quids

 

erm...Rob Knowles V TT

...controversial

 

Or Rib Noodles v Neutrino?

Song about Babsa & Katie:

Meatloaf
'I Would Do Anything For Love'

And I would wear anything for Kate,
I’d even wear an African dress,
I would wear anything for Kate,
I liked wearing it I must confess.

But I'll never forget the way I feel right now
- Oh no – so gay - And I would wear anything for Kate,
Oh I would wear anything for Kate,
I would wear anything for Kate,
Even a Wednesdays hat, even a Wednesday hat.

And some days I don't come easy,
And some days I don't come hard
Some days I don't come at all,
And these are the days when I polish the end.

And some nights I use MSN,
And some nights I text my ‘mates’,
Some nights I just pick up slags, then dirty bints I nail again.

And maybe I’m mental, I wear a tartan skirt all day,
Can Journo bum rape me ?, I wonder if he’ll open my bomb bays ?

As long as my bike is gleaming,
As long as my star is reaming,
As long as I make a 12 hour trip – You’d better recieve it! -

That I would wear anything for Kate!
Oh I would say anything for Kate,
Oh I would do anything for Kate,
Yes I feel a tw4t, yes I feel a tw4t...

I will do anything for Kate,
I’d even part her gammon gates,
And yes I feel a tw4t ...

I will do anything for Kate,
And myself I’m starting to hate,
I’m just a big door mat ...

And some days I pray for Matty,
And some days I pray for Lee,
Some days I just pray for a black man’s length inside of me .

And Maybe I'm lonely, And that’s all I'm qualified to be,
There's just one and only, I have got no chance of conkers deep.

As long as my PC’s working,
I dream that I wake with Dirk in,
As long as my banjo’s stuck to the mouse – I’’ have to relieve it!

That I would do anything to Kate!
I’d take her kit off & then brake her back,
I would wear anything for Kate!
Baggy trousers like my mate, Tupac -

But my sparracuda’s smaller than a cocktail sausage on speed,
It’s this long - But I would do anything for Kate,
I would post myself as air freight,
I would be used as a paper weight,
But I feel a tw4t, Yes, Yes. Yes, I feel a tw4t !

Katie : Will you wear girls clothes ?
Will you spank your top ?
Will you take it up arse from Papa Bouba Diop ?
Will you stand on one leg & say ‘blahhh’ ?

Babsa : I can do that!
I can do that!

Katie : Will you cater to every fantasy that I've got?
Will you bath yourself in your own fluids, namely spoff & snot ?
Will you take me to ‘Attack of the Clones’ ?

Babsa : I can do that!
I can do that!

Katie : I know the territory – I know the chords,
It'll all turn to dust and you’ll slate me on the board,
3,000 posts a month about ‘‘Is there a Lord ?’’.

Babsa : I wont do that!
Even though I’m a tw4t !

Anything for Kate,
And I smell like cats !

 

Any chance of a song

About a Sex God and a sexually frustrated sixtysomething ??

 

Yep

meat at the Marriott?

 

RE: Yep

Skewered kebabs. Red meat ?

 

No.

I'm not writing about myself & Dirk.

To the tune of Disco 3000 by Pulp - or whatever it was called:

Well it was bought for me for Christmas by Mother.
The magazine said it was better than t’other.
It’s called FM 05. (Yes 05). It would enrich my life.
So I sat and loaded it up, selected Barnsley – and first bought Allsop;
Then I sold Conlan … Stallard, Wroe & Colgan.

My mates - seem to recall.

I used to have a life - 3 kids, a dog, a wife.
But when they try to call – I’m in my world of fake football.
Then I said –
I preferred my FM two thousand.
A season was played before I grew a beard.
Now my teeth have dropped out - my finger nails are weird.
I never knew my life was over.
I would be living in my underpants
Can I claim my life back ?
Not a fecking chance.

I was the first in the queue at the shop.
I camped outside, dreamt of Bouba Diop.

The boys all wanted to play the game first.
It keeps my mind off my dry anal love thirst.
I’ve been playing for six weeks and I find,
My feet are rotting & I’m almost half blind.
My brains are oodled – I’m living on Pot Noodles.

My mates - seem to recall.

I used to have a life. 3 kids, a dog, a wife.
But when they try to call – I’m in my world of fake football.
Then I said –
I preferred my FM two thousand.
A season was played before I grew a beard.
Now my teeth have dropped out - my finger nails are weird.
I never knew my life was over.
I would be living in my underpants
Can I claim my life back ?
Not a fecking chance.


Oh yeah, oh yeah.
And now I’ve taken the game & I’ve smashed it up.
I know we'll never meet again but I want you to know ;
Want you to know that a new version’s due out soon.

People - do you recall ?

Our little FM game – with Babsa, Cain & Wayne,
Eastander used to call – with Journo & La Dent de Crolles.

And I said – let’s waste our lives playing pretend footy
Wont it be sad when our lives pass us by ?
When we die alone and not see a hairy pie.
I never knew it would take over,
I would be dying down here on my own
On that internet buffoon board years ago.

Oh what are you doing all you spackfools ?
Fiddling with budgets & training schedules;
It’s not real – and you don’t own Kewell.

Ohhh ooh ooh. Ooh ooh ooh ooh.

What are you doing ? Getting fatter ?
Do you know the meaning of ‘fanny batter’ ?.
You deserve your anus to be in tatters.

Ooh ooh oh. Ooh ooh ooh ooh. Ooh ooh ooh ooh. Oh.