Thursday 30 December 2021

Chicken Shit Blues - part three


Chicken Shit Blues

 Orkney, 6th March 2002
Poor People Mad, says top tv shrink

Speaking on Radio Orkney - motto: fairest fur fairmers - favourite dance: the Dashing White Fairmer -
Lord Professor Sir Doctor Raj Persaud, chairman and Life President of the Association of TV priests, witchdoctors, shamans, voodoomen, headshrinkers, exorcists, post traumatic income development counsellors, fitness trainers, lifestyle consultants, gymnasium and sunbed therapy operatives, said: all you people out there in radio and tvland, you're all mad, all of you, bonkers, can I have my cheque please? 
Lord Persil's co-panellist Lord Sir Paul McCartney, Emeritus Professor of Vegetarianism and Lentil studies at the University of Merseyside, formerly Bootle Polytechnic said I couldn't agree more with the noble Lord Persil, in fact John and I once wrote a song it went (picking up a left-handed Rickenbacker semi-acoustic six string) something....... like...... this:  Yesterday, all my money seemed so far away, now it looks as though it's here to you know, like, could I have my cheque too, please and could you make it out to McCartney Overseas Tax Avoidance Enterprises Incorporated Ltd?
Joining the debate by videophone from his home in Southern France Her Grace and Serene Highness Lady Sir Elton John, Duchess of Bolivia, said that although he was still under sedation after the deaths of fashion pornographer Countess Gianni Versace and his own alter ego, Diana, patron saint of neurotic slappers and mysterious road traffic fatalities, said you know I had a string of hits back in the sixties: there was Benny and the Rent Boys, Saturday Night's All Right for Sodomy and my own and everybody's personal favourite Candle Up the Bum and so I know what Professor Persil is going through right now, so please give him the money otherwise I'll be so mad I'll rip up all my frocks and I probably will let it be known that I won't be putting any cocaine up my bottom until after tea, or maybe lunch.
In a rare public statement Former President Bill Clinton remarked that he had never had sexual relations with that woman (Miss Elton John Lewinsky) as his laundry records would confirm. President Clinton went on to say that he admired and deeply respected gay people (his wife Mr Hillary Clinton, for instance, and his daughter KD Clinton, to mention but two) and he felt their pain, not in a literal sense you understand, but in a more real kind of a way. When I was importing drugs, sorry, serving as Governor of Aransas me and the good ole boys'd often set out on the step a while, sippin' tequila and listening to Lady John singin' all his hits, specially Candle Up The Bum and so I agree with His Excellency Lord Persil that everybody out there in Radio and TVland is gay and therefore entitled to serve in the US Armed Forces as long as they keep quiet about it.
Interrupting by satphone from where he was hiding deep beneath a mountain in Wyoming, President George Dubya Coke said America is a great nation, a freedomloving, sniiiiffff, nation and american folks don't take kindly to their servicemen and women performing terrorist acts on one another's rectums, lubrifying one another's dump chutes when they should be hunting down and smoking out Osama Bin Ladenbum, in fact, snooooort, these nancyboy - and - girl activities are distinctly, big sniiiiffffff, unAmericanised and are to be deplorificated. And to all our friends in England, Britain, I'd just like to remind y'all of what your great english poet Winston Churchill said about sending not to ask for whom the kettle boils. It boils for me. Give us the job and we'll break the tools, that was another of that great gennulman's sayings. Is it safe for me to come out now?
That's exactly my point, said Lord Persil, back on Orkney. That Osama owes me money. Princess Diana. George Harrison. Spike Milligan. They all owe me money. Money, money, dah-dah-dah, money, money, money, money, money, money, it's ee-as-eey, bomp-bomp, Bomp- bah-bomp, all you need is money, money's all you need. George, by the way, continued Professor McCartney, didn't write too many hits, wasn't in fact, much of a guitar player, it was me y'know played lead and he just kinda mimed along with them. But he was a great scouser. Liverpool to his fingertips, was George, never forgot what Liverpool had done for him; that's why when he died in Los Angeles instead of endowing a college for young scouse musicians (like I did) George left all his money to a load of Hare Krishna reincarnationalist headbangers. All together now: Money Krishna, money Krish-a-na, money-money, money-money, money-hare, money-hare, hare-money, money-money. When George died,  don't mind telling you, I felt like I'd lost an accountant. It was a bit like when Linda died, you know, I kind of felt that I hadn't just lost a wife, I'd lost a dietician as well.
Diet is, indeed, a very important element of our busy, stressful lifestyle, added Lord Professor Archbishop Persaud. At home in Lambeth Palace I never eat a bite unless I've consulted my own, new in paperback, Eating with Raj, Gastro-intestinal Feng Shui for post modernists, foreword by RichardnJudy and I would advise all listeners to Radio Orkney to order now while stocks last. Herbal remedies form the basis of my new CD: duetting with the Marchioness Lady Sir Elton John I give my own interpretation of  his classic Chamomile up The Bum and with the late, great Freddie Mercury on his classic Bohemian Remedy and with Robbie'n'Nicole on the great Sinatra classic Something Herbal and with the Sex Pistols on their very own Aromatherapy in the UK. Lord Paul of Lentils even appears on a remixed version of Lucy in the Sky With Evening Primrose Oil. If you have any doubts about this or anything else in your lives please, if you have some money, or credit, phone the Rajline, having your credit card details ready. If you don't have any money or credit you should phone your Citizens' Advice Bureau for you are beyond the help of decent people such as myself. Get a Life, why don't you?
I have to go now, as mrs ishmael is pouring hot tea over my bottom and forcefeeding me dog biscuits. Woof woof.
Love from Scotland, England. Healing Capital of the Cosmos.
ishmael smith.

P.S. strumming lullabies on a Prime Minister's Edition Fender Stratocaster, deep in the Downing Street bunker could be heard voicing: send Saddam, that evil man, a Smartbomb up the bum-de-dum, de-dum.
P.S.S....War, the new Peace; Chaos the new Order; Poverty the new Wealth; Jumpers the new Suits; Lies, the new Truth.
If you meet the Buddha on the Road, kill him.

Orkney, 19th March 2002

Liza:My Marriage is Over

Speaking exclusively to Radio Orkney, a tearful Liza Minnelli, 62, sobbed that her marriage of 24 hours to showbiz Bill Somethingorother, 18 and a half, had irretrievably broken down and she had booked into the Elizaberth Taylor Clinic for Eternal Youth, Plastic Surgery, Colonic Irrigation and Fwng Shui. Miss Minnelli's bridesmaids, Lady Sir Elton John, Duchess of Colombia, former Arselicker in Chief to Her Late Majesty Princess Diana of Tarts and Baroness Lady Sir Micaheal Jackson aka The Great White Father, Archbishop of NeverNever Land and principal shareholder in the Facial Deconstruction Corporation of America were both said to be totally and utterly devastated, there was just a great big hole where their money used to be, indeed, in Lady Sir Michalel's case, much the same could be said about his face, and no-one on the whole planet had bought Lady Sir Elton's latest Greatest Hits album which featured hits from before his hair transplant, his days of baldness and his recent times in a toupee; timeless classics such as Your Hair, Trichology Rock, Candle in Your Hair, Philadelphia Facelift and the Beatles classic Hair, There and Everywhere as well as the great Procul Harem number a Whiter Shade of Scalp. Archbishop Michel said: we are all god's children only some of us never grow old, but she did. Her many fans worldwide (sad gay people living in Memory Lane) will join his Grace, Lady Sir Elton and I in wishing Liza the very best of coke. I mean luck.

Deep in a bunker below a heavily fortified Downing Street cowered UK President for Life Her Royal Highness Toni Blair and his Princess in Waiting Peter Mandelson and the Hinduja sisters. Strumming a White Prime Minister's Edition Fender Stratocaster he said: okay girls, fourfour time, ah-one-two-three-four, no use in sitting ah-lone in your room, come hear the mew-zic play, Life in a very real sense is a cabaret, old chum, come to the cabaret. They were interrupted by the Hotline White House phone ringing. It's Dubya, said a servant, (whose nametag said J. Prescott), wants to know what we're doing about Drugs and Prostitutes, no, not stamping them out, putting them on an RAF jet, and sending him some, he says Epstein's supplies are running out fast, everything's big in Texas. 

But he's in Washington.  

Don't think he knows the difference, Tone.

Greetings from the land of sensible footwear. It's not the wrong weather, it's the wrong clothes.

ishmael smith.

and remember, if you meet the Buddha on the Road, ask him how he keeps his skin so young looking.

to be continued

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