Parochial Plops HomeParochial Plops
The Madrid Suite
 
When Mike took a day off pooclub to take his family for a long weekend in Madrid, Kate initiated this thread of songs.
Mikeless Monday
Kate

One o'clock already I was just in the middle of a dream.
I was kissing Brian Cruickshank in a chip shop in Aberdeen.
Then I woke up and remembered I was late for the club of poo.
I was getting all excited then I thought of this and I felt blue:

It's just another Mikeless Monday
(wh-o-a-o)
Wish it was Tuesday,
(wh-o-a-o)
'Cause that's the best day,
(wh-o-a-o)
The Mike Is Coming Back day,
It's just another Mikeless Monday.

Had to get a 57 bus, got to be there by 2.
Feeling like a pig shat in my head in this land of poo.
'Cause it takes me several hours just to figure out what I'm gonna say,
And usually when I manage it it's bollocks anyway,

It's just another Mikeless Monday
(wh-o-a-o)
Big Fat bum day,
(wh-o-a-o)
A shitty crappy dumb day,
(wh-o-a-o)
A stick it up your mum day,
It's just another Mikeless Monday.


Can anyone else think of a song that expresses
the way they feel about Mike not being here?


 
When We Need Mike
Brian

When we need Mike,
We just close our eyes and we're with Mike,
And all that we so want to give Mike,
It's only a heartbeat away

When we need Mike,
We hold out our hands and we touch Mike,
We never knew there was so much Mike
Keeping us warm night and day.

Miles and miles of empty space in between us,
A telephone can't take the place of Mike's smile.
But we know Mike won't be travelling forever.
It's cold out, but hold out
And do like we do.

When we need Mike,
We just close our eyes and we're with Mike,
And all that we so wanna give Mike.
It's only a heartbeat away.

It's not easy when the road is your driver,
Mike that's a heavy load we bear.
But we know Mike won't be travelling a lifetime.
Its cold out, but hold out
and do like we do ...

When we need Mike ... etc

 
Without Mike
Kate

No I can't forget this morning,
No Mike's face to watch me yawning,
But I guess that's just the Two-Sheds goes,
He's in Madrid, Oh God forbid, my sorrow grows,
Yes it grows...

Yes I can't wait til tomorrow,
Put an end to all my sorrow,
When we'll have him here among us once again,
And he'll send us lots of Shite, we'll be alright...
But 'til then...

I CAN'T LIVE,
IF LIVING IS WITHOUT MIKE,
I CAN'T GIVE,
I CAN'T GIVE ANYMORE,
I CAN'T WRITE,
IS WRITING IS WITHOUT MIKE,
I CAN'T SHITE,
I CAN'T SHITE ANYMORE.

No I can't forget his poems,
How he always keeps me going,
How his wit and laughter brighten up my life,
But now he's gone to sunny Spain with kids and wife,
Pass the knife.

I CAN'T LIVE,
IF LIVING IS WITHOUT MIKE,
I CAN'T GIVE,
I CAN'T GIVE ANYMORE,
I CAN'T WRITE,
IS WRITING IS WITHOUT MIKE,
I CAN'T SHITE,
I CAN'T SHITE ANYMORE

 
Yesterday
Kate

Yesterday,
All our troubles seemed so far away,
Now Mike's gone to Spain they're here to stay,
Oh I believe in yesterday.

Suddenly,
Pooclub's not the place it ought to be,
There's no gobshite taking the piss out of me,
Except for Brian, obviously.

Why he had to go,
I don't know, perhaps he's gay,
He is in Madrid, what a flid,
I'll make him pay-ay-ay-ay

Yesterday,
Mike was here but now he's gone away,
And I'm running out of things to say,
Oh how I long for yesterday.

Probably,
He'll be back tomorrow then he'll see,
Just how terrible a day can be,
Without his Mikeness, woe is me

 
Mike's response to these touching songs...
Pooward Bound
Mike

I'm sitting at my desktop P.C.
Got logged on to the net dead easy. (Mmm-mm-mmm)
On a tour poetry sites, my head and heart are full of Shite,
And ev'ry page drags through the night for a poet who can scarcely write.
Pooward bound,
I wish I was,
Pooward bound,
Poo! Where my drivel's spewing,
Poo! Could be out canoeing,
Poo! Don't know what I'm doing
Writing this gobshite.

Ev'ry day's an endless stream
Of words so vulgar and obscene. (Mmm-mm-mmm)
And emails look the same to me, the prospects and the poetry,
And ev'ry time I see a pea reminds me that I long to be,
Pooward bound,
I wish I was,
Pooward bound,
Poo! Where my inbox fills up,
Poo! Where my friends won't shut up,
Poo! Where I should just give up
Writing this gobshite.

Today I'll write my poo again,
I'll play the game with virtual friends. (Mmm-mm-mmm)
But all my words come back to me preceded by that fateful "Re:"
Like a vicar who must have more tea I need someone to section me.
Pooward bound,
I wish I was,
Pooward bound,
Poo! Where my head gets done in,
Poo! Where my depths are plumbing
Poo! Where I can't help running
To write all my gobshite

 
Parochial Plops HomeParochial Plops  
February 2001
 



Luxury Private Holiday Villas in Bodrum Turkey pooclub | poowiki | subscribe Cheap Holiday Villas To Rent
Copyright © 1995-2017 Shitespace Limited. All rights reserved.