Chris’s songs over the last 20 years or more have been a reminder to find the comic absurdity in many aspects of our society and the campaigns to change it for the better. Reminding us that in being able to laugh at ourselves, we can then feel freer to experiment and enjoy a culture with more complex forms of expression being understood.
He’s gone from risking his own skin walking into dodgy far-right pubs to sing songs making fun of racism, to writing songs making light of the head spinning speed in the 90s in which someone could go from leafleting against fox hunting to being asked to help liberate beagles from a laboratory. He’s poked fun at the history of land ownership and past along tales of drug smugglers robbing their van back from the RUC.
Ideally when it’s fully finished it will contain illustrations, a finished bonus song fan tribute and more commentary from the Captain which I hope to glean from him at some point on a podcast or in conversation.
If you’d like to help illustrate or write the bonus fan tribute hit me up at theosladehome@gmail.com
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lyrics
This is not even based on a true story this
This just is a true story
In the fields of Scotland
After the rain has been raining
My feet are getting wet
My trainers are soaking
But I’m not fucking bothered
You’ll see me out in the fields
Looking on the ground
With me little paper bag
See what I’ve found…
Mushrooms
Little nipple shaped mushrooms
Lovely liberty capped mushrooms
Beautiful Scottish mushrooms
What a great free thing to find
What an unusual thing to do to me mind
Take them back to me house
Spread the newspaper out
Put them out to dry
Make me-self a pot of tea
And I don’t even need any milk or sugar
For this particular brew
All I need is boiling water and mushrooms
Mushrooms, feel me-legs are going along
Feel me hands are going strange
Everything is rearranged
Everything is rearranged
Now I’m back out in the fields
Laughing at the trees
Turn the volume down on the grass, oh that’s better
Tripping my tits off, I’m like oy, I can’t tell if I need a piss, or if I’ve already pissed myself, can’t tell if I have pissed myself
Put my hand on the front of my pants, I still can’t tell, I don’t know if my pants are wet or it’s just a cold day, I just can’t tell anymore.
Tripping too hard to know whether I’ve pissed myself.
And in the distance I see a Scottish farmer, I start shouting “Oy here mate, I’m not being funny, but would you just touch the front of my pants please? So I know whether or not I’ve pissed myself, so I can get on with the rest of my trip. Knowing whether or not I have got wet pants.”
And Scottish farmer, he didn’t help me out man, he weren’t helpful at all. He weren’t even friendly, not even a little bit friendly, I said just touch myself so I know whether or not I’ve had a piss and he told me to get off his land.
I were like for fucks sake, this isn’t an issue of land ownership, it’s just an issue of wet or dry pants. Just do a brother a favour man, I’m tripping my pants off, all I need to know is whether or not I’ve pissed myself. I don’t need to know who owns the fucking land.
And when I thought about it a bit more, I thought how can you own land? You can’t pick it up and take it anywhere. How can you say you own it? Can you pick it up and put it in your rucksack? Can you fuck, I said don’t be mental, you mental Scottish farmer. How can you own land? When you’re away squirrels piss on your land, I’m telling you.
Well, he didn’t like me at all, he seemed to think I was some sort of upstart. And the next thing I knew he was shouting at me a bit more, and he said, “get off my land.”
And I said, “aww I’ve heard this before, I’ve heard this till I’m blue in the face about your land. I said how come it’s your land?”
And he explained to me how you acquire land. I didn’t know this, but he said, “my grandfather fought for this land.”
And I said, “alright, that’s how it works then is it.” So, I said, “bring your grandad out here then. I’ll fight him for his land and when I win, then I’ll ask him to touch my pants. To see whether or not I’ve pissed myself.”
And I wish I’d never said that, his grandad was massive.
Hard as fuck, good at fighting.
Strong, Scottish, big fella.
Punching me in head.
Fucking hell, it really hurt man.
But the more it hurt, the more I laughed.
Because when someone’s punching you, it’s just so funny.
The look on their face, their face goes red, they look such a fucking dickhead.
When they’re punching you, so I just laughed.
But the more I laughed, the more he punched me.
And the more he punched me, the more I laughed.
And the more I laughed, the more upset he got.
He had a vein throbbing in his forehead, like a massive coke fiend.
He was shouting, punching me, sweating. And the next thing I knew, he died of a heart attack.
Scottish farmers grandad, he died of a heart attack.
And now I own his land
And now I own his land
If I could remember where it was
Because I was tripping off my tits when I owned that land
Now I can’t remember where the land was or where it all happened
But do you know what did happen?
I did piss myself
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