The Unfortunate Gwatkin
Half Man Half Biscuit
(intro) G Em C D (x4) G Em C D I wandered around to the back of the petrochemical plant where they'd found Mr G Em C D Gwatkin's jacket in 1974. Sleeves turned inside out G Em C D With a tin of sweetcorn in each pocket. The rumours surrounding his disappearance G Em C D Are many and varied. Though we should for the time being at least accept the version of G Em C D G Em Events given to us by the lamentable chap himself on his eventual return. C D In doing this however, we must also keep in our thoughts G Em C D The findings of better minds who conclude that Gwatkin as-is no longer G Em C D G Em C D G Em C D Represents Gwatkin as-was. G Em C D Piecing together an occasional vague sentence and some garbled chanting heard during the G Em C D Small hours, it appears that our victim was making his way home from the Pessimist G Em C D Festival in Mollington when he was set upon by a gang of miscreants, the G Em C D Chief malefactor of whom was a particularly vicious character going by the name of G Em C D Bridgedale. So called on account of a thermal sock with which he G Em C D G Em C D G Em C D Gloved his fist whenever he became tetchy and needed to punch somethink. G Em C D Unable to comply with the rabble's hot tempered demands for unreasonable G Em C D Things such as cathedral juice and vicar shit, the heavily pummelled G Em C D Innocent was dragged into the churchyard of St. Lawrence and there left to his own G Em C D Devices next to the grave of young Nelson Burt - whose own tragic G Em C D G Em C D Tale is of particular interest to the local historian. G Em C D It is believed that within twenty minutes of this episode, a further attack was witnessed by G Em C D One Slow Dempsey of Woodside Farm, who alleged that he saw the G Em C D Aforementioned Bridgedale scuttle a full four hundred feet along the Wervin Turnpike G Em C D G Em C D To deliver a perfect Haymaker onto a stray colt. This afternoon I G Em C D Visited Daniel Gwatkin in the confined place which he will probably never leave. G Em C D I was offered redbush tea and a fig roll. The pleasantry gave G Em C D Hope for lengthy discourse but cheer was swiftly dismissed as the pitiful subject G Em C D Proceeded to gaze out of a large window for what seemed like an age, before G Em C D Turning around to fix me with pitch black sockets which simply said G Em C D G Em C D Am Em C D "Help me". Then came the song: G Em C D G Em C D Cresta! What the fuck were we drinking? G Em C D G Em C D Cresta! What the fuck were we drinking? G Em C D G Em C D I write to people, they don't get back to me. I write a second time, they don't reply. G Em C D G Em C D To ease the loneliness and pass the time I pace the room, inventing bands; G Em C D G Em C D Experimental trio from Borehamwood - 'Hall, Stairs and Landing': they're really good. G Em C D G Em C D Scott Verplank did not get back to me. Newcombe and Roche, still no response. G Em C D G Em C D Congolesi Unsworth, Glaswegian Runes, the singer's granddad writes all the tunes. G Em C D G Em C D Jodie Mudd, Jodie Mudd, Jodie Mudd. Jodie Mudd, Jodie Mudd, Jodie Mudd. G Em C D G Em C D Uh-oh Chongo! It's Danger Island! G Em C D G Cresta! What the fuck were we drinking? Em C D Jodie Mudd, Jodie Mudd, Jodie Mudd. G Em C D G Em C D Cresta! What the fuck were we drinking? G Cresta!