"Tory Boys"

This is a song about why I had to leave the destructive environment that was The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis.  It's dedicated to two former work colleagues; I hope they take this to heart.


Tory-Boy  [taw-ee boi], noun

1. one having a false or unrealistic belief or opinion.
2. Psychiatry. one who maintains fixed false beliefs even when confronted with facts, usually as a result of mental illness.
3. delusional.

---

Tory Boys

So you thought your words could blind over truth
I tell you yes, but it's only worked on you
And what of things that were promised all along
Out-dated expressions rely on nothing without song

My heartfelt meanings went straight over your head
The way you operate is akin with being stone dead
I have more intelligence than the both of you combined
And when my sounds are heard you'll realise you're totally blind

I turn the page and blow your sounds off the chart
My incredible direction leaves yours a stale art
No holding me back because this talent can't be contained
And the refrain? You'll be singing it 'till your dying day

Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise

The hypercondriacs were you all along
I suffered in misery for your lousy songs
Listen up: this is what you're missing
My sounds are fresh and bold: no dismissing

Taking the rhythms and tunes up a notch
My lyrical flow isn't half what you got
Acting all G when it's you who were not
The masters of rhyme more spineless bastards
Quentin Blake proved I could do this
Slippery Elm proved you were shit  
When telling me I was too white to write rap
You couldn't foresee coming this mighty bitch slap

Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise

You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise
Your life's a comprimise
Because you can't chastise
My talented reprise
Suck on my talent guys!

Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise

I'm the greatest
I'm the best
My name is Rory
Through envy you detest me!

"Like Slippery Elm"

A rare experiment of mine into rhythmic-writing, or "rap" as it's also known. A demo was recorded during the Kissing Sally sessions but remains unreleased.

---

Like Slippery Elm
Steve is the man - the man with the plan
Like slippery elm I'll take you to the helm
'sdeep - not cheap - reap -
don't sow - you sow!
I'll hold you down - funky-funky town
Cats of Claw Hill
You can call me Al
Goodwin - Chegwin
Keith-egg-beer-keg-got-grot-rot-notalot-just-enough

Reminding you of cranberry cheese
Robert Heart'll bring you to your knees
Or vice versa - he's old you see
Or is he? Here's Rory McB,
To reveal all he'll crawl head first
through a sewer pipe - yeah it
smells he'll deal, for-one
for sure - for-five - for-real
The Scot-Scrot-Squad
Scroteam! Scroteam! Go team!

"Quentin Blake"

Written in August 2009 during the year's second Hope And Monet sessions. Intended for inclusion on my contribution "And" however the following year, on deciding to release a brand new single each in the buildup to the album, this was my choice. As so many of my greatest ideas, the concept for this tune came to me in the bathroom.

---

QUENTIN BLAKE

Take a look at my face – that’s right, I don’t have one!

You can stare all you like, it’s not as if I can see you

They call me Quentin Blake, the man with no face

An interesting specimen but I’d prefer the term gentleman

What happened to manners?

I may be lacking eyes but ears no sir-ree!

I could hear from here to there if ever the need may be

It’s how I got a job at the department named “Em-I-Five”

I investigate and interpretate listening in on tapped lines

It’s great fun!

My mother was ashamed I’m sad to have to admit

A son who can’t see, taste or smell is all but useless to an invalid

You see back in my day you couldn’t transplant a face

The only solution was to tattoo one on or be treated as an alien race.

Man it really sucked!

Come on Quentin (we’ve gotta lead for you)

Come on Quentin (you gotta pull us through)

Listening down the wire get a shiver down my spine

The crooks are talking cryptically, I jot down every line

Partly talking Arabic and sometimes speaking French

Puts my multi-linguistic skills right to the test

Hear them mention dates and times, location: an address

Write it down – I’m quite peckish – no time to digress

Seems they’re smuggling body parts but which? I cannot hear…

We nail them I’ll get sorted out with eyes, a nose and ears!!

The possibilities overwhelm me and I’ve got all I need

Shout the DA – we’re ready to make a bust…

Come on let’s go!

Haul in some crims’

Come on (Quentin)

Let’s go (I know)

It’s time to blag you a face!

Quentin Blake, the man who now has a face!