I was willing to let Phil Oakey rot in a see of his own flesh and blood (he’s a man) yesterday, but my public cried and said “Slap Him, He’s From Sheffield”. Alan Trewartha, the FreakyTrigger resident design master (who has never touched my design I notice) reminded me of the truly stupid lyrics to Blind Youth

Blind youth take hope
You’re no Joe Soap
Your time is due
Big fun come soon

Phil was not wrong there in correctly projecting the rise of a boyband called Big Fun, but his knowledge of their sexual prowess seems too detailed. What would happen, one asks, if one of these Blind Youth (I assume he is using blindness as a metaphor here) was actually called Joe Soap. What is so bad about being called Joe Soap. Is it like being called A N Other and having hundreds of credit cards?

Is such a big word
It’s been around since
Richard The Third

I need say nothing about this drivel except to say that Richard III was knocking around in the late 15th century while Geoffrey Chaucer was writing one hundred years before. And yet what is this couplet from The Reeve’s Prologue:

“Deeth drough the tappe of lyf and leet it gon
From hence the rot of dehumanisation”

Not easy to make that rhyme apart from in old English. but then dehumanisation, being such a long word, is quite difficult to get your head around. Unless:

It’s easy to say
But if you’re not a hermit
You know the city’s OK

It is quite clear that Oakey should never be allowed near a pencil, let alone an music to write these stupid lyrics too. Blind Youth, I’m sure they were all clamouring to be deaf youth after this song came out.