WAKEY WAKEY!

Vocals and Guitar - Olga
Bass and Vocals - K'Cee
Drums and Vocals - Marti
Produced by Michael (Olga) Algar and Keith Nichol
Recorded at Impulse Studios, Wallsend, Tyne And Wear, UK

Olga: "Not the best recording and production, though a nice album. I took a year to write it, I had got rid o' me psychopath girlfriend and got meself a little Jack Russell puppy called Ashbrooke, he even featured on Sabre Dance. Recorded above a bingo hall on the 6th floor, all the equipment had to be carried upstairs, and everytime Ashbrooke needed to take a leak I had to cover 12 flights just to keep him happy. Some nice tracks though, an album we are happy with."

LESTER FIDDLED THE TAX MAN

Yeahhhhhh:
Under starters orders & they're off tallyho!
4-1 3-1 2-1 the bettin's on, lester nicks off to rio
He got more, got more than he bargained for, lester's accountant was a daft clot
He's upset, upset, that's what you get, he made a mockery of ascot ascot ascot

Chorus:
Lester, lester, a fiddliddliddling jester
Lester's been banged up with all the other cccccrooks
Lester, lester, tried to trick the tax inspector
Coz lester conned the tax & fiddled his books.

He's a nutcase, nutcase, crackpot nutcase, he put his job in jeopardy
Now he won't be, won't be, won't be, won't be racing again at aintree
He'll get away, get away, get away, get away, he must o' been livin' in dreamland
Now he's never on, never on, never on, never on...
World of sport or grandstand grandstand grandstand.

Chorus... (guitar bit)

He laughs, he laughs, he sniggers & laughs, when he thinks of the money he earns
But he got nicked, got nicked , got nicked, when he sent his tax returns
Grinning, grinning, always winning, he never thought he would be poor
Now he's locked up, locked up, locked up, locked up, doing time in...
Dartmoor, dartmoor, dartmoor.

Chorus

POT BELLY BILL

The gas supply has been cut off, the telly's on the blink
Billy stinks, he drinks & spews up in the kitchen sink
He's sick of his bleedin' life, & he's gonna smack the wife in the jaw
Billy’s missus cleans and scrubs while billy's down the boozer
But she's had a belly full now billy's gonna lose her
She's in her dressing gown, billy's breaking down the bedroom door

Chorus:
Pot... Pot belly bill
A big fat dirty lout
A pig & a layabout
Pot... Pot belly bill
A fowl gob that's never shut
A fat slob with a beer gut.
Pot pot pot belly bill

He's such a hog at tea time, he shovels down his grub
He burps & makes rude noises, then he nicks off down the pub
Between you & me, & billy's missus will agree, he's a swine

Chorus... (guitar bit)

It's closing time at the local, & he stumbles out the bar
The drunken lump forgets to switch the lights on in his car
But billy is a darer, he did not see the sierra round the bend.
1/2 an hour latter billy's hospitalized,
"tell the wife to bring some cans in with the grapes" he cries.
But she's seen the light, she said "serve the fat slob right, i hope he dies"

Chorus

ONE NIGHT IN MOSCOW (& WE'LL BE RUSSIAN HOME!)

We had to book a holiday, but we were sick o' whitley bay
We fancied the mediterranean.
All the vacancies had gone, that's all the vacancies but one
A vacancy for which we didn't plan.

What could we do? We could hitch, a ride back home from moskovitch
We had to stay & face the cost & sunbathe in the russian frost.

Chorus:
One one one one night in moscow, & we'll be russian home
One one one one night in moscow
I'll be russian, you'll be russian, we'll all be russian home

The brochure said it's nice & warm, you need no russian uniform
We had the flu & caught a russian cough,
No fish 'n' chips or decent pubs, we called the hotel wormwood scrubs
We said we would complain to gorbochof.

We couldn't find a disco anywhere, no mcdonalds or a wimpy in red square
We must have been potty to have gone to the soviet union.

Chorus

For a pint & coronation street...Russian Home
A bacon sarnie & as much as we can eat

Russian home...(Guitar Bit)

CLOUGHY IS A BOOTBOY!

Cloughy's lads are full o' gloom, coz cloughy's in the changin' room
Why can't he nick off & leave them be?
He screams & yells & just because, cloughy knows that he's the boss
Cloughy's rough & tough cloughy's barmy

Cloughy's in a huff & tense, cloughy's teeth begin to clench
A cloughy fan asks for his autograph... "can yer sign this brian?"
He nuts him first & smacks him next, nobody makes cloughy vexed
Cloughy is the chief cloughy's the gaffa

Cloughy is a football hooligan, now cloughy's only at his prime
With his fist in yer nose when the referee blows full time

Chorus:
Brian brian kicks & slaps & he shouts oi!
Brian brian cloughy is a bootboy

The judge tells cloughy to keep calm, he's up for grievous bodily harm
Cloughy stands and begins to yell
Cloughy must have a screw loose coz cloughy says he's gonna cruc..
Ify the cops when he gets out the cell

Cloughy is a football hooligan...(Guitar Bit)

Cloughy is a football hooligan...(Chorus)

He kicks & slaps, he thumps & cracks,
He nuts & smacks and shouts oi!

DAVEY'S TOOK THE PLUNGE

Davey's life has changed dramatically, now
We warned him but the daft puff couldn't see
Jack the lad, but he's lost his credibility now
He's took the plunge now he lives in misery

Chorus:
Daveyyyyyyyyy...
Had no choice when the vicar's voice put him on the spot
Daveyyyyyyyyy...
Davey's got hitched, davey's been stitched up, dave's a clot

Davey's not the davey that i knew, now
He stays at home with the missus, & he never goes out
Davey does what she tells him to do, now
She's a bag that nags, it's about time he gave her a clout

Davey's anniversary is due now
His face is as long as the river nile
Davey will not admit that it's true, now
He's been cheesed off since he walked up the aisle

THERE'S A TROLLOP UP ELMWOOD STREET

I'd walk across the m.1.
I'd trek through the amazon
I'd be a spanish matador, nowt would be too risky for me
I'd loop the loop in a jumbo
I'd box with frankie bruno
I could do anything, dance in a lions den
But i’m never gonna walk up elmwood street again

Chorus:
There's a slag, there's a trollop up elmwood street
A man's not safe to walk up there alone
A dirty bag, there's a trollop up elmwood street
There's a tart, bag, slut, slag, trollop, up elmwood street

I'd fence with a sword that was blunt
I'd hitch a lift from james hunt
I could do anything....

Chorus... (guitar bit)

Chorus...Say No more.

NO PARTICULAR PLACE TO GO

Ridin' along in my automobile
My baby beside me at the wheel
I stole a kiss at the turn of a mile
My curiosity runnin' wild
Cruisin' n' playin' the radio o
With no particular place to go.

Ridin' along in a mini metro
She said to me she loves me so, loves me so, loves me so
She smiled at me and looked so sweet
I thought i was in for a treat, in for a treat, in for a treat
My happy face began to glow ow ow
With no particular, no particular, no particular place to go
Solo

Chorus:
There's no particular place to go, there's no particular place to go
There's no particular, no particular, no particular place to go

Chorus
To go there's no particular place to go, there's no particular place
Particular place, particular place, particular, ticular place

Chorus
Chorus

Temperature's risin' really quick, really quick, really quick
Then she says she gets car sick, car sick oh no!
She said her love for me was true, truly true, truly true
She jumped in the back and began to spew,
Ridin' along & feeling low ow ow ow ow ow ow
With no particular place to go.

Chorus

POVERTY PLEADIN' PETER

Peter's moanin' groanin' moanin', he can't pay his rent
But we've all seen peter's bank statement
He says he's broke, he must be joking, he's doin' fine
It's no secret, pete's a lucky swine

Peter's on his water bed & peter says he's skint
But we all know that peter's made a mint.

Chorus:
Peter's pleadin' poverty, he can't fool me
Coz peter lives in luxury, he's got...... Loadsa money!

Peter's got nowt, he's down & out, he tells me & you
But he signs in his bmw
He's got no bread, that's what pete said, he can't make ends meet
Peter panics in his penthouse suite

What colour yacht should peter buy? Peter can't decide which
But it's no problem coz peter's filthy rich.

Chorus...(Guitar Bit)

Chorus
He's got.... A load o' dosh.

BLAZE OF THE BOROUGH

Jimmy's running short o' cash,
The bar takings have took a crash
Jimmy can't think what to do,
The bills in from the local breweryyyy oi!

Jim's a nutcase round the twist,
Jimmy is an arsonist
Jimmy thinks nowt of the cost & sets
Alight to his own hosterlryyyyy

Chorus:
Flames grow high,
In the blaze of the borough jimmy fried.
In the blaze of the borough,
The blaze of the borough
Hey!

Windows cracked & bottles broke,
The bar & lounge were full o' smoke
Things would soon look bright n' sunny when
Jim claims the insurance money back oi!
Jimmy's a crackpot, he forgot,
He was trapped inside, the clot
A ring of flames with jimmy in the middle,
He'd cocked up his insurance fiddleoo

Chorus... (guitar bit)

Flames grow high, flames grow high,
In the borough ohhhhh jimmy fried.
Oh yes he fried, nin the borough ohhhhh