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Yellow Label Hour

by Matt Stockl

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1.
Casting the runes on checkatrade Yes, I'm casting the runes on checkatrade When that man came by to fit my burner He earned a world of pain For the feet were not secured And the pipe was on the lean Oh, you may have scraped your DEFRA rating But death is waiting for thee So I searched through my books of evil And I spoke with Monty James And in the darkest corner of my local library I found the offending page For when I phoned to query the finish I was met with much abuse So I logged straight on to checkatrade And I left your last review Casting the runes on checkatrade Yes, I'm casting the runes on checkatrade When that man returns to service my wood burner He's earned an early grave
2.
A Looser Fit 02:43
The trend for skin tight trousers I got zipped up in it And now I think I need a looser fit I'm losing circulation to all my lower bits I think I need a looser fit Too much perspiration Puddles round the pits I think I need a looser fit I sense your condemnation of my favourite outfits You think I need a looser fit I need a looser fit I need a looser fit I think I need a looser fit But I'm a slave to the sensation I really ought to quit I think I need a looser fit My active days are over I'll never do the splits I think I need a looser fit It looked better in my twenties I'll freely admit I think I need a looser fit The sound of tortured seams torments me when I sit I think I need a looser fit My sutures have no futures They whimper and split I think I need a looser fit I need a looser fit I need a looser fit I think I need a looser fit There's too much on display I ain't proud of it I think I need a looser fit My doctor's urging caution If I ever want kids I'm gonna need a looser fit Physical distortion got my organs in a twist I think I need a looser fit The blackouts and the nosebleeds They're all part of it I think I need a looser fit Or etched upon my headstone and writ in my obit: 'He should've worn a looser fit.'
3.
Oh, I'm testing the waters with you What else can I do? For we fought And we clawed And we scratched Till we tore a hole in our little canoe The tide was so dark and so wild It filled me right up inside Till I could no longer tell myself from the swell Or the silt that it stirred in my mind The brine did abraid us The motion unmade us An ocean claimed us The rocks filleted us I'd paid for my passage, I thought But the toll was the whole of my heart Now I'm caught in a tortured maritime metaphor Soggy and overwrought And I'm losing my stream of thought All I meant to say was I'm close to OK Sodden but still afloat Mending the hole in the boat
4.
I tattooed myself for you It wasn't so bad I said it with ink And blood I'm blue as a bruise Red as a wound And swollen with love I tattooed myself for you It wasn't that bad I lay on the bed And bled For a couple of hours While they coloured the flowers And the contours of your head I'm a technicolour Romeo Around my groin, a garden grows Below the belt where no one goes, but you My tattoo is genius A tender rendering of us Entwined on my behind for all time There may be other women But you'll always be queen of my heart Tattooed on my arse
5.
Oh, officer, believe me Through this throbbing in my head I am aware he may be breathing But the man I loved is dead The man I loved is murdered Ever since the fateful day When he entered Enzo's barbers And paid five pound for a fade Tearful teenage widow Cease the rending of your dress Unclench the fist that clutches this dark clipping to your breast Entrust me with those tresses A DNA test is the best shout to work out what the answer to this mess is 'Cos the mullet's back in town The mullet's back in town Yours ain't the first young man struck down The mullet's back in town The mullet's going round Undercuts and overbites abound I'm lucky, I suppose My condition guarantees it I'm immune to this and various follicular diseases Come away with me babe I can heal your shattered heart I may look like Phil Mitchell, but at least I'm no Pat Sharp 'Cos the mullet's on the rise Mullet rides again He caught it from a footballer and gave it to a friend The mullet's on the rise Mullet rides again When will the madness end? The mullet's back in town Down behind the barbers We could make a killing selling balaclavas To grieving mothers and seething fathers Whose kids have turned to Ziggy Stardust Oh, the mullet's on the rise The circle is completed And those who ignore history are condemned to repeat it The mullet's on the rise Mullet rides again When will these atrocities end? When will the madness end?
6.
He came a-wooing my tender young darling With tweezers and lasers With needles and knives To tighten her eyelids And peel her dermis He offered his services reasonably priced 'I cannot go with you, though dearly I'd like to. I work in the salon on minimum wage. My pocket is empty. Your treatments cost plenty. At twenty years old, I am doomed to old age.' 'Fear not, my plain maiden. Micro-dermabrasion is yours for the taking Only take my hand. From the low to the lordly All folks can afford me. You may pay in installments with my finance plan.' Oh, blend her and bleach her And render her features Smooth as the mirror she holds in her hand Bend and beseech her to further procedures She's a good looking girl but she needs a good tan She's seen twenty winters Though none of them linger Casualty of the cosmetic craze Peeling and purging She's urging her surgeon To curb each emerging sign of her age Now I see her at Sainsbury's And oh, how it pains me To watch the expression lessen and die She used to smile But now she's immobile From the chin to the forehead and all round the eyes Her hair like the lily that grows in yon valley Her skin like the clementine ripe on the vine Her teeth like the snows on the hill high and frozen Her lips like the duck bill that dips in the brine
7.
Shark Facts 02:17
8.
Cheap and plentiful sugar reducd me to Bakery Rake Now I long to return to the shape I was Before I started putting on weight I limp on from biscuit to biscuit From coffee break to cake Oh, tea room's taken its toll on me and my waistline I'm fixing a hole where my self-control should be Tea room, take pity on me As addictions I know I rank low on the scale of suffering But at least heroin keeps you thin Failed to fix the hole where my self-control should be Derailed by custard cream
9.
Hey hey Moderator How's your head? Another day among the digital dead Knee-deep in necrophiles Numb to beheading Bodily fluids and blood on the bedding Hey hey Moderator How's your health? You're holding the Fort But you're killing yourself How's it feel to be a human shield In the war on filth? You're sweeping the field Where does the dirt, where does the soil go? The bend is blocked The bowl will overflow Hey hey Moderator All day long Sifting the juice in the John Hey hey Moderator Overseas Trawling through atrocities Screen-burned intern hanging by a thread Three pounds an hour to scour the darkest web Where does the dirt, where does the dark go? How much hurt can your head and heart hold? Bestiality break PTSD Lunch break Date rape DBS please Go tell the boss that your appetite's lost Your soul is a hole And clean content comes at a cost Hey Moderator
10.
Pound for pound, you're the priciest hound around But your feet don't touch the ground When they wed you to your wheels, did they feel any guilt? When they chained you to your chair, did they care how you felt? I bent low to help you down the stairs Stared deep into that bugaboo Baby's covered in hairs They're pushing a pramful of dogs! Kids can be so cruel How the other hounds howl! To see you waxed and groomed And prammed around town Well, we bred out the legs from beneath you And forced you to the floor But you were born with teeth You oughta use 'em more 'Cos they're pushing a pramful of dogs! Pushing a pramful of dogs! Don't you realise that child was born with four legs It should be running wild Pushing a pramful of dogs! You spawned the wrong species How the other hounds howl And strain their leashes Oh, they're laughing at you And your bugaboo full of cavapoos with the blues Shiatsus in shoes And French bulldogs wearing fleeces
11.
Well, it can seem a long time from quarter to nine When breakfast's done Till story time The hours stretch ahead like a broken bridge And you've gotta find a way to entertain the kids Got no transport Funds run low Only one place to go Down to the duckpond Down to the duckpond Down to the duckpond Come rain sun or snow Go! Well, the darlings are demented and you're trying not to shout A war can be prevented, but you've gotta get 'em out The decibels are rising The walls are closing in There's a light on the horizon but your eyes are growing dim Bickering begins Tensions are high Gotta get the kids outside Go down to the duckpond Down to the duckpond Down to the duckpond Keep the kids occupied Alright! Bad for the birds Good for your head White bread White bread Sliced White bread Down to the duckpond Down to the duckpond Down to the duckpond Keep the kids occupied Down to the duckpond Down to the duckpond Down to the ducks Then along to the Swan for a pint
12.
I come alive when the light starts to die and the chicken's going cheap Baby, you can tell when that cellophane swells Well, it's time to sell that ready meal to me Reduce! Reduce! The finest foods The faintly tainted meat Reduce! Reduce! Nothing to lose Everything to eat Hey, hey, they're giving it away My favourite time of day Yeah yeah yeah Yellow Label Hour Yeah yeah yeah Yellow Label Hour Yeah yeah yeah Yellow Label Hour You say that tin's on the turn I say the can's an antique And nothing satisfies like pork pies pushing past their peak Cheap thrills Meet me at the tills I've got deals to make your knees weak No-one was ever killed by a little bit of wilt in the Leaf Hey, hey, they're giving it away My favourite time of day Yeah yeah yeah Yellow Label Hour Yeah yeah yeah Yellow Label Hour Yeah yeah yeah Yellow Label Hour
13.
Now I'm no longer a boy I join the ranks of recliners What used to fill me with joy Now tends to fill me with tiredness I used to want a lot more Now I can take a lot less What used to thrill me before Now seems to fill me with stress What seems to get me excited Is nor what it used to be A living room all unlighted The flicker of a TV So if you fancy a quiet one You know who to call All I wanna do these days is nothing at all So I aspire to be idle I wanna wind down and stop I'd walk a million miles Not to have to walk to the shop I don't want stimulation I'm not that fussed about fun A little less conversation Little more inaction So if you fancy a quiet night You know who to call All I wanna do these days is nothing at all Yeah, if you fancy a quiet night in You know who to call All I wanna do these days is nothing at all All I wanna do these days is nothing at all All I wanna do these days is nothing
14.
Said the Famous Grouse to the Old Speckled Hen: 'Let us never cross feathers again. For I'm perfectly peaceful 9 times out of 10 But now and again I offend. 'I cannot make excuses for the way that I behaved I was not debauched, deranged or depraved But I was cruel with drink Cruel with drink And now I'm ashamed.' Said the Old Speckled Hen to the Famous Grouse: 'Why so morose? The fault is not yours It belongs to your host. For in anthropomorphising inanimate things He seeks to blame the weapon for the injury it brings. He was cruel with drink Cruel with drink And now he has the nerve to sing.' Cruel with drink Cruel with drink I was foul last night but that wasn't my intent Like half a steel rule I'm a bit of a tool And I snapped when I should have bent Cruel with drink Cruel with drink I should go dry

credits

released April 26, 2024

All songs written and recorded by Matt Stockl. In a shed.
Mastered by Tommy Faulkner.

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Matt Stockl UK

Cynical, satirical, lyrical, comical.

Daft songs. Grubby recordings.

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