Washed up on the shores of Sydney Harbour. No marmite, no music and no mercy from the locals. The whispers in the dark of night, the cries of drunken joy in the early hours of the morning and the slow burning madness of a mixed up, shook up, muddled up, upside down world.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Evidently Clarkesintown
John Cooper Clarke - The Basement, Circular Quay, Sydney
Bloody gigs, bloody queues, old bloody punks back in the news
bloody hell, it's johnny Clark only booked by some bright spark
who bloody booked him at the Quay, only wished it was bloody free
bloody starts at 10 o'clock, start the evening at the bloody rocks
bloody meet my bloody mate, whose always bloody, bloody late
bloody get into the gig, served by a man in a bloody wig
bloody drink the bloody beer, have to stand at the bloody rear
bloody bloke comes on the stage, bloody langford shows my age
he bloody sings a bloody song, that bloody goes on bloody long
the bloody moment's bloody come, he trips on stage for bloody fun
he bloody still wears punks poetry crown, cos bloody evidently Clarkesintown
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