The Vile Stuff - Richard Dawson

The Vile Stuff Lyrics

Year 7's on a school trip to Featherstone Castle and some wee scallywag's brung a Coca-Cola bottle containing a spirit
Poor Peter Hepplethwaite cracks open his head on a shiny brass bedknob
And has to be rushed by helicopter ambulance to Haltwhistle Hospital
Si Shovell fills a Reebok pump with the pulp from his belly then sets off a fire-extinguisher in the girl's dormitory
And finally clambers into bed with Miss Bartholomew
Much to the chagrin of the deputy headmaster whose scarlet skull is firmly locked between her thighsI only drank a few little droplets
I only took a tiny draught of the vile stuffDowning Asda's own-brand stubbies in the lad's bogs
I listen to the dull reflection of a carillon in the toilet bowl
My A-Levels drifting away from me
Matthew Mooney's hockle in my hair smells like menthol tabs
Outside the chip-shop Thaddeus Wagstaff fractures my cheekbone
3 empty cans of Castlemaine XXX go rolling down my trouser leg
Blood, snot and curry coalesce in the corners of my nails
My friends drifting away from meI only drank a few little droplets
I only took a tiny draught of the vile stuffAttempting to penetrate a coconut husk with a Philips-head screwdriver
I pierce a hole straight through my hand into the laminate worktop
It's a major operation to repair a damaged tendon
I come around with the tube still down my throat

The milk of amnesia fills my cup and back into the hole I go
Snoring like a pan of broth I arouse the ire of my fellow patients wagging their ladles in the darkMy neighbor Andrew lost two fingers to a Staffy-cross
Whilst jogging over Cow Hill with a Pepperami in his bum-bag
He's a junior partner at James & james no-win no-fee solicitor thinking of relocating to a Buddhist monastery in Halifax
He reckons I should try meditation
He reckons it would benefit my peace of mindMy bedroom walls are papered with the stripes of Newcastle United
Between which I perceive the presence of a horse-headed figure holding aloft a flaming quiver of bramble silhouettes
He is the King of Children singing like a boiler, "tomorrow is on its way"I haven't had a wink of sleep and now the sun is in my porridge
I'm starting a BTEC in engineering at Tynemouth College
My thermos flask leaks parsnip soup on the metro clogging up the keys of my MacBook
Carrot pennies steam amidst a pyre of pencils
Ruck-sack dripping up the steps of WH Smith to buy a fresh pad of paperI only drank a few little droplets
I only took a tiny draught of the vile stuff