LADS TRACKLIST Fa-Fr
concerns Hectic House's resident cartoonist, Stammer, and his attempt
to populate the
planet with stuttering rugrats. His mum became a grandma at 32. Stammer
will piss that.
McCavity- Stammer used to get sent on errands. An hour later,
the phone would ring:
the printers. One of your lads is here, and he can't tell us what he
us to pin a sign on him before he went on his errands: "When
you get there, just point at the sign? OK?"
So we'd write signs like: "Hello Mr Jones, please give me a pack of
a snare batter head. There's a tenner in my top pocket. You cunt."
This was written on the day of the 'Live Aid' concert. The press picked
up on it really fast,
saying I was a racist twat who drowned puppies, ate babies and parked
on yellow lines.
Git- One of the tabloids got Sir Bob to warn people away from
the album, and pressing plants refused
to press it. I was delighted to see sales go through the roof.
O'Peesha- Barrel made this the anthem that it is- especially
for the way he pronounces the word "chips"
in a humorous and amusing fashion.
EP version was always played at concerts in preference to the LP version-
because the latter contained a nifty bit of bass playing somewhat beyond
The secret was that I employed two fat muscians from a group called
names? Snack Mousse and Ginger Biscuit of course.
Beater- Muttley nicked this riff off me. I used to play it in
a punk band in the 70s.
It was shit
then, and its still shit now. My guitar break's dead good though.
This story concerns Mr & Mrs Mussolini- a roadie and his wife.
Mussolini showed us the flowers and anniversary card sent by her husband.
It was addressed
She went on to tell us about their romantic weekend in the Lake
When asked what he's been doing at the weekend, Mussolini replied:
Moss Side, shooting niggers." I think not.
Bald Eagle- When we recorded this, Chorley had difficulty getting
his complicated drum
roll right. When he'd gone, I set up a microphone on the stairs, and
the kit off the landing. Chorley still thinks its the best thing he's
Muttley's favourite topic is how this country has gone downhill since
we stopped having wars
with France. He thinks that the French are garlic eating, soap avoiding,
burning, dirty, horrible, oily, lazy, filthy bastards...
... all this from a day trip to Ostend.
Beater- We did a gig in Antwerp, and Muttley's having a right
go at the audience, as usual. This
feminist trollop with a bone through her nose gets onstage, grabs my
mike and starts slagging
us off. Saying we're racist and sexist and all the usual bollocks. The
audience hadn't got
a clue what's going on. She was really throwing her dummy out, and Muttley's
egging her on,
then he gets the crowd to chant: 'Get your tits out for the lads'.
None of them
knew what they were saying, they just repeated it. They were all French.
O'Peesha- Antwerp's in Belgium isn't it?
Beater- Huh? Oh, bollocks.