Saturday, July 28, 2007


Here we go again, its Monday at last,
He's heading for the Waterloo line,
To catch the 8 a.m. fast, its usually dead on time,
Hope it isn't late, got to be there by nine.

Well why don't you get an earlier train if you're worried about being late, you twat?

Pin stripe suit, clean shirt and tie,

I should fucking well hope your shirt's clean! We don't want no dirty smelly cunts in our office.

Stops off at the corner shop, to buy the Times
"Good morning Smithers-Jones
How's the wife and home?
Did you get the car you've been looking for?"

You seem to have a lot of time in the mornings to chat to your newsagent about your marriage, your home and your car. Christ, I wish I had all the time in the world in the mornings. Maybe if you were to cut the chat you'd get an earlier train and not have to worry about being late.

Let me get inside you, let me take control of you,
We could have some good times,
All this worry will get you down,
I'll give you a new meaning to life - I don't think so.

I don't think so, either. You're a sad, lost cause, aren't you Smithers-Jones? Part of the life-sapping system.

Sitting on the train, you're nearly there
You're part of the production line,
You're the same as him, you're like tin-sardines,
Get out of the pack, before they peel you back.

Yes, go on! Jump! Jump off the train while it's still moving! Come on, there's still time!

Arrive at the office, spot on time,
The clock on the wall hasn't yet struck nine,
"Good morning Smithers-Jones
The boss wants to see you alone
I hope it's the promotion you've been looking for."

I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. I think I can guess where this story's heading.

Let me get inside you, let me take control of you,
We could have some good times,
All this worry will get you down,
I'll give you a new meaning to life - I don't think so.

All this worry. Promotions. Getting to work on time. It ain't worth it, mate.

"Come in Smithers old boy
Take a seat, take the weight off your feet
I've some news to tell you
There's no longer a position for you -
Sorry Smithers-Jones."

Christ, that was blunt and to the point. How could the bastard do this to you? "Old boy"? You're not that fucking old, are you?

Put on the kettle and make some tea
Its all a part of feeling groovy
Put on your slippers turn on the tv
Its all a part of feeling groovy

Yeah. You feeling groovy now, Smithers-Jones? A nice cup of tea and The Generation Game?

It's time to relax, now you've worked your arse off
But the only one smilin' is the suntanned boss

Capitalist pig!

Work and work and work and work till you die
There's plenty more fish in the sea to fry

Now you're stuck behind the chip-shop counter, Smithers-Jones. Wrapping the fish 'n' chips in yesterday's Times. Maybe you should drop the "Smithers". It's only an affectation, anyway. Now you've swapped your pinstripe suit for an apron. You should never have let the bastards drag you down. But you couldn't help yourself, could you? You're part of the grinding machine. What a sad little man you are.


  1. aw! that picture reminds me of why I used to be a bit in love with Paul Weller...ok, now I'll go back & read the post...

  2. Well at least he wasn't sacked by text like those poor buggars at the 'Accident group'.

  3. Beth - He's still got it. I'd wager he'd be voted Britain's dishiest older man now and for some years to come.

    Kaz - He probably got a nice little redundancy package, too. So he could feel even more groovy.

  4. Weller should have been a footballer, his name is very chantable.

    He probably dresses too well though.

  5. One Paul Weller!

    I'm glad there's only one Paul Weller!