Revenge Recommends: "National Shite Day" by Half Man Half Biscuit

In an alternative universe in another dimension the biggest band of the 80s wasn't a po-faced U2. No, they finally had to give up music after years of being ignored when their last-gasp novelty song Witless Without You fell on deaf ears. It was actually Half Man Half Biscuit, lyrical geniuses and competent musicians from Birkenhead, who had no idea who Brian Eno was. Dubbing themselves "Four lads who shook the Wirral" (a peninsula between Wales and Liverpool), they in fact shook and changed the World with their ability for a well turned pun and surreal stories in song.

Of course that alternative parallel universe where this all happened had a much bigger and better developed sense of humour than the dreary U2-dominated hellworld where we all live, a place where pompous rock, grainy posy videos, and pontificating about starvation in Africa as consumer product for flabby consciences won the day.

But the game is not over! HMHB are still in the fight and history is continually being rewritten. While U2's powers have ebbed and died, HMHB's have not, as proved by this song from their 2008 opus CSI:Ambleside.

U2's overblown prestige stands on fast-cracking clay feet, while coming up on the blindside are new legends in the making, some of them powered by custard creams, bourbons, and digestives.


Pulling the ice axe from my leg
I staggered on, spindrift stinging my remaining eye

I finally managed to reach the station
Only to find that the bus replacement service had broken down

After wondering to myself whether it should actually be called a train replacement service
I walked out onto the concourse and noticed the giant screen seemed to have been tampered with
Probably by a junior employee
Disgruntled commuters were being regaled with some dismal TVM
Involving a tug-of-love-custody-battle
Stockard Channing held sway

Down in the High Street somebody careered out of Boots without due care or attention
I suggest that they learn some pedestrian etiquette
i.e sidle out of the store gingerly
Embrace the margin

Fat kids with sausage rolls
Poor sods conducting polls

There's a man with a mullet going mad with a mallet in Millet

I try to put everything into perspective
Set it against the scale of human suffering
And I thought of the Mugabe government
And the children of the Calcutta railways
This works for a while
But then I encounter Primark FM
Overhead a rainbow appears
In black and white

Shite Day
I guess this must be National
Shite Day
This surely must be National
Shite Day
Don’t tell me, it's National
Shite Day

Float… float on
Float… float on
Barry… Herpes

I got a letter from Stringy Bob
Still on suicide watch
Screws not happy
Spotted a Marsh Fritillary during association
Was roundly ignored
What news you
I felt sorry for him
He’d only been locked up for public nuisance offences
One of which saw him beachcombing the Dee Estuary
Found a dead wading bird
Took it home, parcelled it up, and sent it off to the rubber-faced irritant Phil Cool
With a note inside which read: “Is this your Sanderling?

Another time saw him answering an advert in the music press
“Keyboard player required: Doors, Floyd, etc.
Must be committed, no time wasters”
You can guess the rest

I always imagined he would simply wander off some day into the hills
To be found months later
His carcass stripped by homeless dogs
His exposed skull a perch for the quartering crow

I folded away the letter and put it in my inside pocket
All of a sudden I felt brushed by the wings of something dark
May the Lord have mercy on Stringy Bob

Shite Day
I do believe it's National
Shite Day
It all points to National
Shite Day
Someone's declared it National
Shite Day

Shite Day
My birthday! On National
Shite Day
No bogroll, it's National
Shite Day
Cue drumroll, it's National
Shite Day

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