RULE BRITANNIA: a low opera in grand shite style
OVERTURE (instrumental) OF PROVIDENCE V1 Bollocksed. V2 Done! V1 Pathetic. V2 Sad as shite. V1 Buggerd it right. V2 Thought we were so clued up. V1 Bothched up more like. V2 Bodged... bleeding bodged! V1 We've a right to cob on about it. V2 Argue the toss if we bloody want! V1 Bang on... V2 It's a bit of in the air... V1 - Had our day. V2 - An a bit of more. V1 Bloody right we did. V2 We fecken ruled. V1 Determined the future of bloody nations. V2 That's the stuff. V1 We crippled the fecken crippled piled the bodies centuries high. V2 To right! V1 Rule the waves we did. V2 By bloody sword, an' cross an'... V1 - bloody air! V2 - bloody air - dropped terror from the skies- V1 - and lye mark. V2 - we reined. V1 - Ruled. V2 - We ruled. V1 - made civil nations. V2 - made nations. V1 - had a bit of a time with history. V2 - bit of a spree. V1 - bit of tyranny. V2 Well shite THE CUT WORM FORGIVES THE PLOUGH! V1 We bloody hope it does. V2 Yes, the road to excess leads to wisdom. V1 Yes, the bastarding nation of the bloody clued up. V2 Brilliant... V1 To say the least... V2 Bleeding brilliant like... V1 Like I said. V2 We heard yea. V1 Well I hope yeah heard me. V2 Did... V1 Well I hope so. V2 Did... V1 Britannia ruled - it fecken ruled... and none of you would know it as it is if we didn't. V2 Bloody rights. V1 That's box clever. V2 You said it. V1 We had our day so you could have all this. V2 You already said that. V1 Well it's worth saying again... V2 To right... To right. FOREKNOWLEDGE Pity would be no more If we did not make somebody poor Our leaders march with fuses And we with hand grenades God save your mad parade All crimes are paid And guardian angels sung the strain Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves! Briton never shall be slaves. Tore its chords asunder No chains shall sully thee Thou soul of love and bravery Songs made for the pure and free Still with freedom found Thy happy coast repair Hearts to guard the fair Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves! Briton never shall be slaves. Oh God save history Oh lord God have mercy I vow to thee my country All earthly things above Entire and whole and perfect The service of my love Oh God save history Oh lord God have mercy There's no future no future We're the flowers in the dustbin We're the poison in your human machine We're the future you're future England's dreaming I use the best I use the rest I use the enemy I use anarchy Pity would be no more If we did not make somebody poor Are we just another country Another council tenancy When there's no future How can there be sin I mean it man: Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves! Briton never shall be slaves. ---- he was a pretty-boy at first sight I was thinking backs to the wall girl! yeh know, chutney ferret! but after a bit of him givin me the glad eye from across the pub I changed me mind what a bit of stuff he was bags I went right over like and put one on him without sayin a word it was brilliant like arse over tit for him I was he was box clever real clued up was a while, since I got off with someone yeh know, got my end away! had a bit of a fluff, a while ago, but didn't last so I was a bit of a spare I was gagging for it got him in me room got his kick off down to our under crackers we were stood there all hands and shite him on me paps and neck me pitching his tent then off comes the alans an what a brilliant donger! A real prize! onto the bed getting off into a tangle his chopper bringing it off right me diddies in a swing toppin his lap carrying on on all fours sweatin and laughing like oh, he was a good roll "give it some welly boy!" "give it some welly!" he brought me off good and quick! and stayed around for some more yeh he was a bit of all right a real good one to bunk with for a night. WILL Shite, naybody spoke She was goin' doun a monarchy sad as feck Me sitting pleased as shite Watchin on the telly Another old girl gone doun So anyway, I'm feckin sick of it Is this the M.P.L.A.? Or the U.D.A.? Or the I.R.A.? It thought it was the U.K.! Aye, I've gone an said it. Nah, I shouldnay But feck the Queen anywhy Yeh, feck the Queen anywhy God save yer own bloady mad parade God save yer own god damned Englands Dreaming God save yer own bloady shat sod arse Don't try feck all Cause God will save his damn Queen God saves his damn Queen Little room fer a sod like ye and me Nay, I know shouldnay There's gonna be hell to pay I'll burn fre sher they say Taken them all in curse like that But feck em anywhy Feck ye all anywhy Yeh, feck the Queen anywhy I know what'll ye wehl say: Mind what ye say! Nah, ye shouldnay! But feck ye all anywhy I mean it man, feckin hell Don't try feck all cause they made you a moron Potential a-bomb They made you love her man cuz tourists are money cuz yer god have mercy cuz it's the only way to be I mean it man, feckin hell Don't try feck all Cause there's nay future Nay future fer ye Nay future, nay future fer me That's right, I'm feckin sick of it Sad as fuck it is An I know what ye'll say: Mind what ye say! But fecken hell anywhy Yeh, feck it: Feck the Queen anywhy! An feck what ye'll say! AND FATE Newcastle United Football Team Song (to the tune of 'Daydream Believer') Barnet Football Team Song (to the tune of 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina') FIXED FATE (instrumental) FREE WILL Arm yourselves men of valor Be in readiness for us to perish Our nation and our altar Offer but blood Toil, tears and sweat Still masters of our fate A child of the House of Commons Brought up to believe in democracy I cannot help reflecting I cannot help I cannot Men are proud to be the servants Of State Ashamed to be it's masters This was their finest hour Never in the field of human conflict Was so much owed By so many To so few So many So few This is not the end But perhaps it's the end of the beginning The beginning of the end The beginning of the end This is the war of the unknown warriors We shall fight on the beaches We shall fight on the landing grounds We shall fight in the fields In the streets In the hills We shall never surrender Never give in-never, never, never, never! In nothing great or small, large of petty Never yield to force Or the overwhelming might of the enemy Never, never, never, never... FOREKNOWLEDGE ABSOLUTE bolady Nora! I missed the bastarding show again on the telly, the Beep boched me fecken plan so I calls up me mate Cara and we decide to go arse-about for a few just a few the Britneys were flowing and we get chin wagging Cara is a bit of a blooming idiot she's one of me bezzy mates take the piss out of eachother we do and here comes the boss-eyed pervy common as muck: bloady prannet! Mr Action man! billy no mates! all mouth no trousers stands there borin the tits off us bangin on about every bastarding detail of his feckin bleeding life thick as pig shite he is poucing about like an barmcake "crimp off a length of yr rubbish elsewhere" come out of Cara you wouldn't twatting believe it she dropped a clanger there. all to cock we were yelling an goin on three sheets to the wind and getting a build-on in the throne we sparked the chunder and chonge on it till fully bollocksed we were twatfaced! bevvied up and tear-arsing around the club with the beer goggles on twatting boxed we were! ballsed-up bladdered! trolley-blunted! half way through Cara started driving the porcelain bus so I put her in a car and sent her off I caught my hold with a few lines of Charley and then he came on bump starting the party with a great starter set oh, it was brillian as fuck! I was a firecracker goin off dancing and spinnin round I was grand as feck on that dance floor got on in to it the beats were bringing me off there was no stopin it I was the air I was the music it was me whole fucking life coming off on that moment the feckin whole place was coming off building with real clued-up DJ coming round brining us all around it was a bloody great time! a bloody great time... AND FOUND NO END V1 I'm a feelin' a bit o' weakness in the knees V2 A bit of a wobble-on? V1 Week in the knees is all. V2 Is yeh' bein' metaporic love? V1 Nay love, quite specific like. V2 Are yeh' talkin' for the nation or yerself? V1 A bit of the both. V2 I'd - venture tis' the same. V1 Finished or what? V2 Are yea talking bout us, or it? V1 The thing love...the bloody thing! V2 The goings on yeh mean? V1 All the great bloody British shite- end of the nation an ol' V2 It is over... I'd think. V1 We'll I've got little else to say. V2 Nay shite... right bout' that! IN WANDERING MAZE LOST (God save the Queen/King)