Git- Ah, the Great Beer Drought of 1990. It lasted around 30 minutes… Long enough for my boys to write The Beer Necessities LP. The drought was due to Ben Nevis taking over the Bear’s Head, engrossing himself in 144 boxes of pork scratchings, and forgetting to order any beer.

Muttley- Well? Don’t you fucking-well HATE queuing at the bar?

Beater- Stez made Slimy buy a kit with two bass drums, just so he could show off on this song. And it sounds shite. Apart from the guitar- which is great.


Git – This title was suggested to me by a punter. I was amazed by a sign of wit from one of the Great Unwashed, and congratulated the oaf: “A highly perceptive post modern pun,” said I. “Yer fuckin’ wha’?” said he.

Mard – Pick one song we ever did. This is it. Great song.

Beater – Its rubbish.


McCavity – How come my guitar sounds like bagpipes on this?
Beater – Because you can’t play.

Git- We presented ourselves at the Bear’s Head to celebrate All Day Opening the day the law was changed. Sadly, the staff had gone to another pub to hold their own celebration.

O’Peesha- Did anyone ever find out what “root beer” is?
Chorley- Yeah, its like a conditioner, it stops you getting split ends.


O’Peesha – What can I say?
Chorley – Shut it- you bald bastard.


Muttley – Why the fuck do we ever go there? I HATE queues.

Git – I foolishly agreed to fund a Lads’ day out to Alton Towers. Knowing it to be bereft of beer, I predicted their sober return with change. Little did I realise that they would take the road crew and immediately locate the jumbo hot dog stalls.

Beater – This place is full of horrible fat women with more kids than me. Its rubbish.


Stez – It was great fun recording this one.
Beater – No it wasn’t.

Git – I must point out that no animals were injured during this recording, as Stez discovered that thumping a dog did not actually sound like a dog being thumped. Likewise for cats, cows and coypus …

What does sound right is a foot embedding in an Asian’s stomach.


Chorley – Don’t know why, but we could never be bothered to play this at gigs.
Mard – We could never be bothered to record it either.
McCavity – Or write it.


Muttley – This is brilliant. And its only got two chords in it.
Beater – Has it?
Mard – What? Only two? … Not when I fucking well play it.
Barrel – I wrote this
Stez – I always wanted to be a dentist. In fact I think I’ll practise on the Beater right now…


Dread – Jew’s harp, jug blowing, drumming- da brudda got riddim innit?
Mard- Yer what??

O’Peesha – This song was dedicated to Barrel, Lockstock, Ben Nevis, Mungo, Killingman Giro, K2, Sandbach and all the huge, fat, lying, useless blubbery things that have accompanied us on our travels.

Git – It is interesting to note that I supplied two ‘Tesco Value Individual Economy Pork Pies’ for consumption on this track, and have not yet sent my invoice. Hmmm…


Back in the mists of time, when everything was in black and white, When fags cost one and nine, and pavements stank of white dogshite, This woman lived up Letsby Avenue, and you couldn’t grow up without her havin’ you, She’d change a young boy into a man…. and her name was Baggy Anne…

O’Peesha – At the early gigs we didn’t have many songs, so Muttley used to do poems.
Muttley – Did I? … I forgot all about that.
Beater – Oh fuck… them bloody poems. Bloody rubbish.
Stez – It was great when he did them poems! I used to go to the bar in between songs.

Git – A tale of an evening in a backstreet pub where the infamous Old Tom barley wine was served. Legend says the landlord would only serve you a half, unless he knew you.

Barrel – I wrote this! This was for my first band in the sixties- The Beached Buoys.


Git – I pointed out to Muttley that Gilbert and Sullivan had died 50 years ago. Now anyone could steal their tunes. He returned from the pub with:
‘Ooh Wank a Do, Wank a Day’.

Muttley – Beater said this song was shite when I wrote it. He said no one would be interested that Barrel was round. I told him it was a pun, but he still didn’t understand.

Beater – I did yes!

Barrel – I’m not round, I’ve just got big bones.


Git – After recording, I touted the LP around major record companies. To no avail. However, one company did write back: “We have no wish to promote the Macc Boy’s album ‘Beans & Sex & Chips & Gary’…” Ah well..

Muttley – We recorded this one twice, for some reason. The second version was great.
Beater – The first version was shite, the drums were crap. The second version was OK.
Chorley – Cheers, Abdul.
Stez- Ha! The Beater didn’t play on the second version!

O’Peesha – I wanted to be on the LP. Muttley said I could play mouth organ on this song. I only had an organ in ‘C’, so they played the song in ‘C’. Then they found out that I can’t play the mouth organ, so they beat me up and got the kazoos instead. I think the second version (the one on the single) was better ‘coz they played it in the proper key.

Mard – What the fuck is that bald twat going on about?


Git – This is one true story for which I can vouch. The 100 Club in London supplied the band with 24 cans of Co-op best bitter and three platters of Safeway individual value pork pies. Nevis consumed the lot, and I was witness to the devastating effects.

Muttley – Fuck pig! That journey home was grim. I was driving up the motorway, and everyone but Nevis was asleep. He grinned and lifted a buttock up. I was choking, but the window wouldn’t wind down. Everyone in the back woke up, and they were dying.
Mungo – I couldn’t see ‘coz the air was brown.
Beater – I got fur on me teeth.
O’Peesha – We were all trying to climb into the front to get the passenger window open, but the fat twat was holding it shut. My eyes were streaming, and I couldn’t open the back doors. I really thought we were all going to die.
Chorley – I was trying to smash the back window with a mikestand, but Git was fighting with me, coz he’d hired the van. Me lungs were bursting and me eyes were popping, then Mungo dragged me out. I woke up in this field, and even the sparrows were coughing.


Git – For reasons beknown unto themselves, Muttley & Mard reworked the original, changing the verse and the rhythm and the chorus. Oh yes, and changing the lyrics. They claim it is still the same song. I have my doubts.


Gi t- This title is one of Muttley’s beloved ‘three way puns’- a concept guaranteed to throw the Beater into paroxysms of confusion- not being convinced of the single variety.
Beater- Yer what?


Beater – Those fuckers never told me there was a spare jack… the cunts.
Stez – Is that why you always fucked up the intro?
Muttley – Yeah, listen to that intro we put on the sheep 12″- the pissed bastard!
Chorley – Abdul wasn’t the only one who fucked up the intro…
McCavity – Guilty!
Mard – Guilty as charged.


Git- Muttley’s tale of the world’s worst toilet. Situated, I believe, next to his bedroom. I would describe it has somewhere between a wildlife sanctuary and Hell.


Git – This track displays the spectacular talents of ‘Clash’ our shop assistant. He has been known to clear a pub in seconds with one of his ‘power burps’.

Muttley – I spend bloody minutes writing the words for this,
then this bird comes up and says: “Do you fancy going halves on a mattress?” Oh for fuck’s sake!

Chorley – ‘Mattress’ sounds better.

Mard – Does it arse! It sounds like your going to Ikea. Not that I’ve ever been there. In fact I don’t know where it is.


Muttley – The first thing we ever did. I was still at school when I wrote this.
Mard- And you got top marks for it an’ all, you fucking swot.

Stez – We ran in the studio to record this, and I was going to be guitarist, so me and Abdul had a race for the guitar. Muttley shouts: “Look Stez! A poof!” So I go legging it down a corridor, and the bastard was winding me up. By the time I got back, there was only the drums left. I should have been the axeman … then it would have been a proper band.
Beater – No it wouldn’t. You’re rubbish.


Git – My boys were often found buggering around with expensive studio time. Originally credited to “Fatman Turner Overweight” it fooled no one. It was in fact McCavity singing whilst eating a pie- or to be more precise… 14 pies at a cost of 47p each.

Chorley – We started singing this in the van on the way to a gig. Muttley said I should sing it in the studio, but I was watching my weight.
McCavity – I fucking well wasn’t.


Beater – We nearly got a proper record deal out of this song.
Mard- But the Argies surrendered, coz they heard I was on me way over.

Muttley – This was a great story to write about, coz the news was on the telly and radio all day. Ray No came round, I opened the door and he says: “Ardiles rhymes with Malvinas!” …And fucks off.
O’Peesha – The QE2 got requisitioned for the Task Force, and they were interviewing all these Yanks coming off the ship at Southampton: “What d’you think about the war, fat Yank?”
And the Yank replies: “Nuke ’em ’til they glow!”
That had to go in the song.


Git – In an uncharacteristically benevolent mood, I sanctioned the despatch of free cassettes of this song to our troops in the Gulf. One of the lucky recipients was tootling through the desert in his tank, when Iraqi guns were spotted. They were ordered to ignore them, but the crew said: “Fuck it!” And charged the enemy to the sounds of “Get at ’em!” Sadly, the Iraqis had no ammunition, and surrendered immediately. It is nice to think that we did our bit for the war effort, albeit from the relative safety of the Bear’s Head.


Git – When this song was recorded the first time, it had a verse missing. I was concerned about studio costs, and moved the clock forward, so the lads thought it was last orders.
On the Live album, the missing verse is restored.

Muttley – Ray No took a photo of us in the subway under the railway. When it got developed, you could see the graffitti on the wall behind us: Charlotte is the biggest slag in Macc.

Stez – Every bird called Charlotte claims its about her, even Mard’s mum.


Git – I ran a competition before the Beer Necessities was recorded. 1st prize was to sing backing vocals. The winner was Mr Lew Keemia of Runcorn.
O’Peesha – I had to go and fetch the twat, but we got snarled up in traffic. By the time we got back, all there was left to do was some animal noises on this track. Lew did the coypu noises. He was pretty good too.

McCavity – The only thing I ever wrote was this riff. And I fucked off before we got to record it. The Beater made a right pig of it.


Beater – This is the most versatile riff in the world.
Mard- No it isn’t.

Knobby – I like to rub my genitals on other people’s face towels

Chorley – If you drive out of Macc through Mottram you can see the posh house where this all happened. I think they’ve put a plaque on the patio.


Git – Not one of the Dan tales, but an example of how my boys are unable to resist awful puns. I pointed out that when the final part of the Dan Trilogy was released, it would be episode number four. They said that it would be a better value trilogy.

McCavity – Binbag sang this while I was shagging her.
Mard – That wasn’t Binbag, that was your Mum.


Beater – Fucking hell… The New Delhi… That place had a lot to answer for.
Stez – This was during the Great Bogroll Famine. Macc looked like Pachendaele.
Muttley – It was three foot deep outside the Town Hall.
O’Peesha – Remember Morph?
Chorley – Morph- The Horribly Deformed Dwarf? They never found him did they?
McCavity – A few jockeys disappeared that week as well.


Muttley – Fast Fret wouldn’t play unless that disgusting smelly thing was sat on his amp.
Chorley – You mean your mother?

McCavity – The amp didn’t sound right without the cat on it. We did everything together. I took it for walks and fed it. I even shared my meths with it. My only real friend … And you lot killed it.
Mard – It was dead already. It had been dead for months when you found it.


Git – Another true story about the hapless Dan. With his exciting bottom, an adventure is only around the corner.

Stez – Nice sitar playing on this one, Abdul.
Beater- Fuck off.


Git – A true story, sadly. Well most of it anyway.(He was actually a Sunni). Mind you, I always felt the dog to be a menace.

Dread – Each time we play dis song, all de honkies dey jump about. Dey goin’ mental innit? An Mard, ‘im say dat Dread am not playin de song fast enough. An de song am got a false endin’ innit? So, next gig, Dread am puttin’ about a ‘undred extra endin’ on de song. Each one am faster dan de last. An Mard, ‘im not quick enough. An ‘im fingers a blur. And ‘im fuck it up.
O’Peesha- What?!?


Muttley – This is the only song that was ever censored. They wouldn’t play the original: “I don’t think rape’s an offence, the birds want me dick, its immense” Now what’s wrong with that?
Beater – Its fucking rubbish, that’s what’s wrong with it.


Muttley – This was the first song we wrote together. I wrote the words and music, Stez made up the beat, and Abdul whinged coz there was no guitar solo.
Stez – So we kicked fuck out of him.

Beater – It should’ve had a guitar break in it. A dead long one. As it is, its crap.


Git – This was first recorded at Porky Pig’s in Salford. The Lads gathered around the microphone, beers in hand, they chanted the chorus, leapt around and punched the air. Except the Beater. Abdul Wazim-Ben Beater sat cross legged, arms folded, and mumbled. He only got excited at prayer times.
Beater – It weren’t me.


Git – The tale of Mr Styx’s emigration to London. All 35 minutes of it. In those days, Boddington’s, Players No6, and England’s Glory matches were only sold in civilised areas of the country. They were used by intrepid explorers as a sort of ‘security blanket.’


Git – Bald Eagle’s contribution to the Oriface & Genital compilation. His High-Tech Super Shiny Remix used all those machines with flashing lights – the plasmatrons, glaucoders, digimaxes, and kronkalites. He had a free hand to utilise everything in his state of the art studio. So he just put a bit of clapping at the end.


Beater – Me, Stez and Bammy used to do this song in our punk band The Scum. Then Gutley Fat Twat hijacked it, changed the words and halved the guitar solo. Its rubbish now.

O’Peesha – One of the finest moments in music history was Sandbach singing this on stage after we tipped around 500 laxatives in his beer. He was desperate for it to finish so he could dump. Of course, we played it extra slow.


Git – Without a crowd joining in, this always sounds limp. The guitar sounds thin, and the Beater was not a happy Pakki. It was recorded in an underground studio… and no one knew which way was East.

Barrel – This was my song. I wrote the music to it, and I called it Gutbuster and it was about my favourite meal: Large Portions. Guttley Fat Twat hijacked it and changed the words, telling everyone that I tell lies. Which I don’t. Ever.


Git – This concerns Hectic House’s resident cartoonist, Stammer, and his attempt to populate the planet with stuttering rugrats. His mum became a grandma at 32. Stammer will piss that.

McCavity – Stammer used to get sent on errands. An hour later, the phone would ring:
“Hello? Its the printers. One of your lads is here, and he can’t tell us what he wants.”
Slimy told us to pin a sign on him before he went on his errands: “When you get there, just point at the sign? OK?” So we’d write signs like: “Hello Mr Jones, please give me a pack of strings, and a snare batter head. There’s a tenner in my top pocket. You cunt.”


Muttley – This was written on the day of the ‘Live Aid’ concert. The press picked up on it really fast, saying I was a racist twat who drowned puppies, ate babies and parked on yellow lines.

Git – One of the tabloids got Sir Bob to warn people away from the album, and pressing plants refused to press it. I was delighted to see sales go through the roof.

O’Peesha – Barrel made this the anthem that it is- especially for the way he pronounces the word “chips” in a humorous and amusing fashion.


Git – The EP version was always played at concerts in preference to the LP version-
possibly because the latter contained a nifty bit of bass playing somewhat beyond Muttley’s capabilities. The secret was that I employed two fat muscians from a group called Cream. Their names? Snack Mousse and Ginger Biscuit of course.

Beater – Muttley nicked this riff off me. I used to play it in a punk band in the 70s.
It was shit then, and its still shit now. My guitar break’s dead good though.


Git – This story concerns Mr & Mrs Mussolini- a roadie and his wife. Mrs Mussolini showed us the flowers and anniversary card sent by her husband. It was addressed to “Fluffy”. She went on to tell us about their romantic weekend in the Lake District. When asked what he’s been doing at the weekend, Mussolini replied: “Been up Moss Side, shooting niggers.” I think not.

Bald Eagle – When we recorded this, Chorley had difficulty getting his complicated drum roll right. When he’d gone, I set up a microphone on the stairs, and McCavity threw the kit off the landing. Chorley still thinks its the best thing he’s ever done.


Git – Muttley’s favourite topic is how this country has gone downhill since we stopped having wars with France. He thinks that the French are garlic eating, soap avoiding, cowardly, sheep burning, dirty, horrible, oily, lazy, filthy bastards… all this from a day trip to Ostend.

Beater – We did a gig in Antwerp, and Muttley’s having a right go at the audience, as usual. This feminist trollop with a bone through her nose gets onstage, grabs my mike and starts slagging us off. Saying we’re racist and sexist and all the usual bollocks. The audience hadn’t got a clue what’s going on. She was really throwing her dummy out, and Muttley’s egging her on, then he gets the crowd to chant: ‘Get your tits out for the lads’. None of them knew what they were saying, they just repeated it. They were all French.

O’Peesha – Antwerp’s in Belgium isn’t it?
Beater- Huh? Oh, bollocks.


Git – For a period of time, Muttley kept disappearing at weekends, and returned sounding like an extra from When the Boat Comes In. He finally admitted that he had been seeing a girly in Newcastle, but it all ended after an unfortunate episode with ‘pease pudding’.

Chorley- I saw her once, she had a dead fat arse, unlike me, who hasn’t … Have I?
McCavity- I set fire to her arse.


Muttley – I can’t listen to this anymore. It reminds me of penalties.

Git – The Germans surprised me wen we toured there. Far from being the fun-loving scamps of folklore, they were serious, efficient and laughed only when ordered to.

Mard – This was the most requested song when we toured Germany. But we didn’t play it.. we played the ones they wouldn’t like. Squarehead bastards.


Git – Muttley claims he ripped this from ‘Johnny Todd’ (the Z Cars theme). I Panicked over royalties and investigated. Had I remembered that the poor boy is tone-deaf, I could have saved 10/-6d – or whatever it is that gramophone records cost these days.


Muttley – That barmaid from St Helens…. I’d been at a party in Knutsford, and offered this bird a lift back in the morning. Of course, by the morning she’d grown a curly tail and trotters. Near Monk’s Heath, the Viva breaks down. She thought I’d done it on purpose and grabbed me while I was trying to find the bonnet release. I was pinned down with the gearstick in me ribs, and her breath hit me. It was like a fog. She must have been eating a garlicky- spinachy thing with dogshit in it. Anyway, I had to do the business, otherwise she might have thought I was a poof.
Stez – She thought you were anyway.


Git – Never before has a song’s lyrics been quoted as grounds for divorce. Not for the squeamish, this one.

Muttley – Its about that old Monty Python sketch where the woman keeps taking her plaice for a walk, even though its been dead for years. I’ve always liked that.
McCavity- Huh? Yer what?


Git – Since the Middle Ages it has been a Macclesfield custom to drink hideous amounts of ale, then visit Gordon’s to hurl abuse and fight with other pissed peasants. For centuries, Gordon has smiled and taken the money.

Muttley – Me and Fast Fret wrote this on the way back from Gordon’s one night.
McCavity – We kept finding claws and fur and stuff in us gravy.


Beater – This was about that MP woman who said that all Northern men eat is chips. That’s why we’re all fat and spotty. Should we talk about the handclaps now?

Chorley – Don’t you fucking dare, you coon!
O’Peesha – We had to use a machine because Chorley couldn’t get the handclaps right.
Chorley – That’s bollocks and you know it. I was the only one in time.


Git – A song dedicated to the obscene amounts of cash spent in the Grease Stop Challenge- a post concert rite practised by my boys. The winner being the one who eats most grease – a disgusting and unhealthy activity to which myself and the Beater were exempted on religious grounds. He is Moslem, and I hate wasting money.

O’Peesha – Mungo holds the record – 20 bacon, 20 sausage, 6 eggs, 6 black pudding, double beans, double chips, 2 pints of milk and a penguin.

Stez – I used to slip the odd sausage into Beater’s curry.
Beater- Twat.

Chorley – At one grease stop, we all ate tons and the roadies nicked the ketchup bottles. As soon as we were in the van, they covered Nevis in tomato sauce.
Nevis goes: “Tut! I feel like a fish finger now!” And Muttley shouts: “What? Already?”
Any road up, I thought it was funny.


Git – I always thought it fortunate that this story took place in Duckinfield.

Barrel – I wrote this.

Chorley – At one gig, we decided to start with this song. Lights down, I sneak on, and start the drums, then Muttley comes on and starts the bass- etc. Of course the lights go down and its pitch black. The first thing the crowd hears is me falling over my kit and knocking all the mikestands into the pit.


Git – Recording this, The Beater was irate- no knobs he twiddled could give him his desired ‘Evvy Metal Sitar’ sound. Nor did he like the studio being called “Porky’s”

O’Peesha – Sometimes we started the set with this. At one gig, a useless fat wobbily blubberheap had taped my setlist to the monitor with a big piece of gaffer tape, obscuring the first song. We started the gig, those three played ‘Head Kicked In’. I played ‘Eh Up! Let’s Sup’. Of course I had my amp turned up so loud, I couldn’t hear anyone else. I might have got away with it, except ‘Head Kick’ is much shorter.


Muttley – It’s pronounced ‘Foy’. She was from somewhere in Cornwall. If it was Redruth, the song would have been about jamrags. Mard told me this story when he was pissed.

Mard – You fucking liar, it was Dread. He’s never touched sweetcorn since.
Muttley – What’s he eat now, then?
Mard – Red stripe and couscous I suppose.
Muttley – Couscous? What kind of chips are they?


Git – I am informed that it is prudent to vacate the premises when a hen night looms. However, the clubs I frequent bar entry to women – except for cleaners, of course.

Bald Eagle – This was not easy to record. I dragged in a selection of girls to do the backing vocals and 40 crates of 20/20. Everytime I pushed the ‘record’ button, they all wanted to go to the toilet. Who was there? Let me see,… Binbag, of course, Charlotte, Julie, Joan of Arse, Lucy Lastic and Harlot O’Hara. Some nasties turned up too: Maria Callous, Diana Cross and Florence Night in Gaol. ~If I had known it was going to be the last thing the Lads ever recorded, I’d have got hold of the Lice Girls, Moaning Lisa and the Bet Lynch Mob.


Git – The only song to get a pun out of ‘Altrincham’. When the BBC did their Road to Wembley series, following Altrincham FC, they used this track. In 50 years of pop history, no one has ever used the word ‘Altrincham’ before. I find that strange.

Stez – The first time we ever played this was at some gig in Manchester, about 1983/4. Beater cocked up the intro. Muttley got annoyed and battered him- right there on stage, big scrap. By the time I got out from behind me kit, Beater was curled up in a ball, and Muttley had taken the guitar off him. I took Beater to the bar, while Muttley did the song on his own. When he’d finished, he told us to come back and finish the set. We shouted “Fuck off!” So Mutts had to finish the gig on his own, while us two gobbed and chucked bottles at him. Its miles better being in the crowd.


Muttley – There’s loads of different recordings of this. Every year we tried to release it, and every year it was a disaster. Pressing plants wouldn’t touch it, one load turned up without holes in, one load of singles arrived in February, and one year they arrived looking fine, but with music by some German oompah band.

Git – There is no evidence to prove that I ever cut corners on production costs. I only want the best for my boys. The pressing plants I used were all high quality establishments, not backstreet cowboy operations. Look on the bright side … Think about the miserable Bavarians in lederhosen…

Beater – Its just as well. Its a crap song.


Git – Also known as ‘Julie the Healthy Sandal’ after a typing errot on the LP label. Non of the band has admitted to being the originator of the story. However, the morning after a night of filthy, perverted sex, Julie demanded a lift. She directed our unwitting hero to a school in Alderley Edge, and changed into her uniform en route.. causing severe damage to one of my fleet.

O’Peesha – Another Julie story was about how she once wet herself in class:- On seeing the expanding pool of urine on the floor the teacher shouted: “Oh, Julie… why didn’t you put your hand up?” “I did Miss, but it ran through me fingers.”

Beater – Which one of you twats is trying to sing a harmony on this? Its bloody rubbish.


Git – A great live song, where the lyrics are different every time. My favourite was: ‘Urine!’ … “Urine who?” ‘You’re in for sloppy seconds at the gang bang.’ I am also partial to the fretboard exploits of Phillip McCavity on this song. Although not his BO.

Chorley – I liked the ‘Gladiator’ verse the best: ‘Glad he ate her before they fucked her at the gang bang..’

Stez – Who the fuck cares what you like, you fucking tart.


Git – The sacred cowshit hits the fan. When they finished recording this at Porky’s, the Beater began pouring beer over the equipment, kicking the machinery, and attacking Porky Pig with a big stick with a wiggly end. Unaccustomed to violence, I grabbed the tapes, sped off in my limo, and later claimed to have been in Bournemouth at the time. Many stories appeared about this incident, but I later convinced Mr Pig that my boys had done a great service in publicising his studio.

Beater – This is the only decent song we ever did. But the guitar break is too short. It should have gone on for at least another hour. Git used to say that everyone turned up to hear the lyrics. That’s bollocks. They came to hear my heavy chords.


McCavity – The first time I played this, a pint pot hit my guitar lead and knocked it out. So we all sang the ‘Diddle iddle ee dooh di doo’ bit. And it was dead funny. Honest.

Mard – You only sang it coz you couldn’t play it properly.

Beater – Huh?… Look who’s talking!

O’Peesha – If you think about it, the bit in this song where Muttley gobs at the audience is probably the cause of the estimated 4 million tons of phlegm, sputum and greenies that have coated the band over the years.


Chorley – The video to this is ace. I look great in spandex keks, and my bottom doesn’t look big. … Does it?

McCavity – I remember hanging around McDonalds asking for change, and this posh tart offers to buy me a meal. I said I’d rather have the money, but she said I’d only spend it on meths. The cow.


Git- For reasons known only to themselves, Muttley and Mard decided to re-work the original, and get rid of all the HM nonsense. It now sounds like Klaus Wunderlich.


Git – An ode to an ageing nurse. I have never seen the promotional video for this, but I have always been suspicious. Why did the lads need 5673 cans of Boddington’s? Why not 5672? Why do I have to pay for these extravagances? Incidentally, Wildboar Clough is a tiny village in the hills above Macc. It is a very tight-knit community. If you get my meaning.

McCavity – They don’t like strangers.

O’Peesha – Or tramps…
Mard – Or anyone who isn’t related at least twice.


Git – Most agree that Knobby’s version is the more wholesome recording. Baldy sent his kids away whilst the Lads recorded this for the B-side of the ill-fated Eh Up! single.

Beater – My version is the best. I reworked it so no one else could ever play it. Ha!

Chorley – Why was she going to Morecambe?

Muttley – Shut up, you long-haired mincing faggot.


Git – Sadly this song was only ever played once:- when it was recorded. Bald Eagle assures me that the horn sound is an authentic Porsche horn. Unfortunately, this means that non of mine are real Porsches.

Chorley – I have no recollection of this song at all. How does it go?

McCavity – Its the one with the crap drumming.
(Interview stopped when McCavity spat meths on Chorley, & chased him with a zippo).


Git – This story comes from a drunken stag night when the Lads were watching a grubby video…
The ‘groom to be’ claimed he could not make out who was who and what was what in the pile of naked squirming bodies. He freeze-framed the tape, pointed to a pink bit near a tongue, and asked what it was.

“That’s a clit!” Chorused the Lads. “A what?” He replied…

It did not bode well for the bride-to-be.


Git – An unrecorded gem, penned after a late night drinking session in Hamburg.

Mard – German prostitutes… bloody hell! Its obviously a part-time job. During the day they’re lumberjacks or Russian weightlifters. We we’re in this bar, the door flies off its hinges,
and this “thing” walks in dressed in red fishnets. I thought it was a phone box at first.
But phone boxes are smaller and not as wide. It picks up two sailors, one under each arm and waddles off.

Dread – So ‘im run out to de fancy dress shop, innit? An ‘im am buying de sailor’s outfit.
An ‘im go back in de bar, an ‘im wait. Innit?

O’Peesha – You fucking what?


Git – This song contains my second favourite ever piece of pop music. For those who are interested, its the “Oh, right you are..” part. In the unlikely event of anyone wishing to know more… you can’t beat ‘Poor People of Paris’ by the great Winifrid Atwell

Stez – There’s a bootleg tape going around from a gig around 1992. The version we do of this song is so fucking hard… I think I’m going to have to hurt somebody.
Beater – Huh? Oh, bollocks.


Git – During the concerts at which I have been present, this tune is undoubtedly the high point.
I am given the impression that the whole crowd had been practising the ‘Fuck Off!’ bit in their bedrooms for months; (but not too loudly, in case their mothers heard).

Muttley – I wrote this after that Brussels football disaster in 1985. – The one where all the bogrolls fell down and squashed those Italians.
Chorley – The Isol Stadium Disaster?

Beater – We got back from Brussels and every paper had that disaster on the cover. Except the Macc Express:
“Who will be Miss Macc ’85?” And loads of pictures of hounds in swimsuits.
Stez – You locked yourself in the bog for hours with that paper.

O’Peesha – I think that was the last time they held the Miss Macc competition.
Decades of tradition ruined by a pop song. Who said rock n roll can’t change the world?


Muttley – First game of the season we found the Moss Rose was now full of seats! These two tugs sitting in front kept standing up, then sitting down.

O’Peesha – Everytime they stood up, we got this view of sweaty builder’s arse. Everytime they sat down, a fountain of sweat squirted out of their cleavages. We made up the song on the way home.

Mard – We lost 1-0 to Fulham, if anyone’s interested.


Git – The proper title is Eh Up!… Macc Lads, but always been referred to as ‘Monkees’ as some say it bears a passing resemblance to the Monkees Theme. I don’t see it. Most copies of this single were destroyed after a legal tussle with a man in a suit.

Beater – The first time we recorded this, I played drums. Because I’m a better drummer than him.
But that meant Gutley had to play guitar, and the whole thing sounded shit. Stez couldn’t remember the words, so he sang ‘Fucking Gudnt!’ all the way through. It was arse.


Muttley – A great story. It happened to this lad I know. His bird’s wandering round the kitchen dropping jism, and he’s running out of ways to cover it up… But her dad wasn’t a vicar. I made that bit up.

Chorley – You bastard! I thought it was all true. That’s upset me now.


Muttley – This bloke really exists!
Bald Eagle – Those farts are real, genuine, and really stink.

O’Peesha – On the Bog n Roll Circus Tour, Methane cured cripples with a simple rectal rasp. He can trump to order, and his anal airs have magical properties.
Beater – He couldn’t get your hair to grow back though. Anyway, the song is rubbish.

Git – I think McLad has slightly exaggerated Methane’s powers. Although Methane is still alive… and Leonard Rossiter isn’t.


Git – An unrecorded ode to that bloke who appears in every pub with a tray of whelks.
McCavity – And never sells any.
Nevis – I buy stuff off him.
Barrel – I buy loads. In fact, I buy the most. And I wrote this.


Git – The Bear’s Head closed for refurbishment for two days, giving my boys time to write and record Bitter, Fit Crack. When it re-opened, the Lads cried ‘Foul’ at the sight of flock wallpaper and carpets, decided on a boycott, and retired to the Bear’s Head to discuss details.

McCavity – Chorley really liked it when they changed the Bear’s around. He says: “There’s mirrors in the bogs, tampon machines and everything!” Of course, none of the women in there could tell that he was a bloke.

O’Peesha – Igor staggered in the Red Lion, half cut, and ordered a whisky. They wouldn’t serve him. He had an argument with the manager, who pointed out that the Red Lion closed six months ago. It is now called ‘Terence John’.


Git – Gordon has been forever thankful to my boys. For over fifteen years, drunkards fight, vomit and sing this ditty in his shop. Inevitably, Gordon will fall over laughing, as its at least ten minutes since he last heard it. Gordon smiles and takes the money.

O’Peesha – A fan from Germany rang to tell us about his visit. He flew to Manchester, got a train to Macc, walked into Gordon’s, and ordered chips n gravy: “‘Scuse me mate, are you German?” Enquired a bloke in the queue. “Ja!”


McCavity – Its all true! He never stopped. He even painted my park bench, in slow drying paint, exactly the same colour as it was before. It took four coppers and a blowtorch to get me off in the morning.

Chorley – I liked his trick with the outside bogs. It was always dark out there, and you had to use your thumb to open the latch. He put a big lump of dogshit on the latch, with a drawing pin in it. Everybody did the same thing: “Argh!”-Thumb in mouth. Great.

Stez – Who the fuck cares what you like? You fucking tart.


Bald Eagle – I got Eddie Shit down to sing the lead on this one. Which is just as well, as Nevis had just used my toilet, after a lengthy session at the Ring of Fire Tandoori. That bog glistened when Eddo had finished. It was so clean, Knobby refused to eat his dinner off it.

Git – The video for this song features Al O’Peesha as an alcoholic tramp. (McCavity wasn’t there!) We talked Al into falling down the 108 steps. We did three takes before I confessed that I had not shelled out for any film.


Git – The Lads’ one and only hit single. Smelling a hit a mile away, I feature quite strongly on this track. I play the sheep bleating in a Jewish accent, (already) – justifying my 95% share of the royalties.

McCavity – My sheep was the best.
Chorley – Fuck off twatty. My cow at the end was what made this a hit.

O’Peesha – I wrote the script for the video: “Drive into the hills and fuck about with sheep”.
Nevis was the star, chasing a flock of sheep with his bags round his ankles. The fat fool.


Git – My dressing room was once invaded by members of the Police and Licensing Committee – informing me that the gig was off: “We’re not having language like this in our town!” I had a fit about refunds, so I reached for my book- “Kissinger on Diplomacy.” A compromise was reached: The gig went ahead, (“But don’t do the one about the poof”), and I stopped hitting them with the book. Last night there were two ‘fucks’ and three ‘cunts’ on TV. (Probably)….How times change.

Stez – This story was probably what started me off. I’d known the bloke for years… But no matter how many nails I hammered into his head, he wouldn’t stop being queer.

O’Peesha – The very first recording of this, in 1982, doesn’t mention AIDS at all.
Beater – AIDS hadn’t been invented in 1982, you thick bald bastard.


O’Peesha – Muttley’s flat was ideal for parties. He had a skip next to the back door,- we could shovel all the debris, cans, drunks and vomit straight out- ready for the next one.

Muttley – You saying that I used to tidy up? You calling me a poof?
Stez – Where?
McCavity – That was no skip, that was my house.

Chorley – I made a really good punch at one party. I filled the bath with all the booze, then Stez decided it was time to drown the Pakki. Stez was in a right mood, it took all of us to drag him away. Stez kept saying: “Huddersfield” over and over again.

Git – Strangely enough, I was never invited to one of McLad’s famous soirees.


Git – This was the ‘A’ side of the single, and entered the National Chart on St George’s Day, 1988 at number 95- along with Fairground Attraction. The talented Scots shuffled up to No 1. The Macc Lads didn’t.

O’Peesha – Eee! The trouble this caused! Titterton’s got invaded by hacks wanting to interview the fat woman that tastes the pies! Loads of journalists wandering from factory to factory looking for a fat tart that needs ironing. Talk about Gullible’s Travels!

Beater – The first version was best. The one I did. The LP version was shite.
McCavity – But you took about ten goes to get it right. I did it in one take!
Beater – Yeah, sounds like it.


Git – Released first as a demo, then re-recorded for the Alehouse Rock LP. I liked the first version as it was cheaper.

Muttley- We had a peek at one of Knobby’s Reader’s Wives mag – on the stickiest page, in between the staples, was this huge fuck-off bunch of grapes.


Git – Of course this happened to a friend of a friend. But small puppies look better on car radiator grilles than those plastic red noses. Plus you are safe in the knowledge that non of your wages have found their way to charity.


Git – Prestbury is known as the ‘Millionaire’s Village’. When the Lads visit me, they have to remove their shoes at the parish boundary.

Bald Eagle – I went a bit overboard with the farmyard noises on this, but I liked the way Winston hit the anvil. He got the chains off in the end.


Git – For collectors of trivia, the dog’s name is Rowell- a particularly dim mongrel belonging to Al O’Peesha. Knobby comes round when his anal sacks need emptying. It is the same dog to whom we asked the fanclub to write :-

“Dear Rowell, We think the Mac Lads are ded good. Can you tell us wen they will be gigging in Yorkshire?”

“Dear Puddings, Rowell is a dog, and can’t read. However, we read your letter to him. He went in the yard and shat. Hope this helps.”


O’Peesha – This song got ridiculous. At some gigs, the middle bit used to go on for ages, they put the snooker music in it, the Grand Prix theme, all kinds of rubbish.
Mard – That’s coz we never told you what we were going to do!
Dread – Ha! Look on bald honky’s face when we all start to play de ‘Snooker’ tune! And im not know de chords!

Git – Many was the time that O’Peesha would look concerned during a concert- him having received a completely different set list to everyone else.


Git – Since my boys have run up enough slates to roof a large town, I have left strict instructions viz-a -viz After Hours Drinking. I was once present during one of these sessions, and my ’round’ (I think that is the correct term) came to an extortionate sum. 20 pints of bitter, plus Pimms for myself, meths for McCavity and a can of Lilt for Winston Dread. I insisted on a receipt.


Muttley – My pathetic attempt to rip-off Georgy Girl by the Seekers.
Beater – Its got a minor chord in it!
Mard – Not when I play it.

Chorley – Anyone heard that German single? Its a cover of this, called Fette Motte?
Stez – Shut the fuck up, you wittering woman.

(Don’t Fear The) SWEEPER

Git – At last, a football song from the Lads. McLad discovered that there are few songs to be sung when your team is useless and 4-0 down on a wet Tuesday. I am surprised that “You might have scored, but we’ve got bigger knobs” does not echo around Anfield more frequently.

O’Peesha – Fuck the chariot race in Ben Hur, the finest piece of cinematic history is this song on Sex Pies and Videotape. Bach is a star.
Chorley – And a stupid fat tub.


McCavity – This has got the all time greatest guitar solo in it.
Mard – Oh Yeah? Says who?

O’Peesha – During this song at a gig in Leeds, Mungo threw a chair into the crowd. Ah, the look on his face when the crowd threw back six chairs and a table.


Git – Featuring an aria by Binbag, whose voice has been known to fossilise dogs hit. The catchy riff was stumbled upon by O’Peesha when he was trying to work out ‘Mr Tambourine Man’.

McCavity – I know what this one’s about. That journalist woman we kidnapped and dumped in South Wales. She was dead ugly, and none of us shagged her.
Chorley – Even the roadies never touched her-she was really upset. A few nights later she’s in the Bear’s telling everyone that we’ve all got micropenises and we’re crap shags and we’re gay and all that.
McCavity – Its in the paper, it must be true!


Git – Muttley lists all the things which he finds objectionable about Chorley. Originally the song was 3 hours long, but a £10 note in the correct palm secured a satisfactory edit.


Git – Riots swept through Merry England in 1981, and Macc was not to be outdone. Someone chucked a brick through Arighi Bianchi’s window, and was promptly arrested. There the riot ended. In court, the judge asked: “What caused you to perpetrate such a vile act?” “Half a bottle of Clan Dew, Your Honour.” Was the reply. Nothing to do with the song, but I had to slip it in somewhere.

Muttley – Well some questions need answers! How do blind gits wipe their arse?
O’Peesha – Yeah, like how do they know every snowflake is different?
Dread – Dey all look alike to I. Innit?


Git – Muttley and Mard list all the lengths they will go to to secure a cup final ticket. Wishful thinking, as their beloved Macc Town have yet to get beyond the 3rd round.


Git – This ditty has appeared in many guises. No one could agree which version was best. Personally I liked the first version, but my bruises would suggest that it was a mistake to offer any opinion to my petulant little charges.

Knobby – I like Spanish women’s armpits.


O’Peesha – The original version had an out of tune piano and pint pots. It was dead good. Then Mard came along with all these fancy chords. I said: “Diminished ninths? You big pansy!” Of course I didn’t use those exact words, I probably said: “Brilliant Mard, you’re the best axeman ever.”

Slob – Years ago, Muttley came round to my hovel, shouting: “Slob! You up yet?” I was on the bog, and shouted back:”Ang on! There’s a turd hanging out me arse.” Of course, he’d brought some woman round to meet me. Ah well…


Muttley – I went out drinking in Bollington. This old bloke was wittering, and I just used his whole conversation for the song. An old woman came in the pub and he shouts: “Alright Ethel, ‘ave y’ad a wash today?” Shame we couldn’t squeeze that line in.

Beater – The first time I played this on stage was about ten minutes after I first heard it.
Stez – We met Abdul at the station and gave him his guitar and said: “We’re on in half an hour, and we’re playing a new song that non of us has heard yet.” He shat bricks.


Git – I decided to audition the girls for the role of Stella Strict. I narrowed it down to two… One had a great voice, the other had fantastic stage presence. Which one got the job? The one with the biggest tits.

Muttley – Eddie never pulled. But one night at a party this bird got dead pissed and ended up sleeping with him. Next day he panicked: “Is she pregnant? Have I caught something?” He was in a right flap. He asked me to ask her what the score was. She said: “I didn’t even know he’d been in!”


McCavity – I got ratarsed recording this. The bottleneck guitar was a bastard. I used a can of beer, but it only sounded right if it was just over half full. I got through fifty cans.
O’Peesha – You told me sixty!
Mard – Go on…? You said you got pissed… So what else did you drink? Eh? Pansy.

ƒ G Bb F
“Just take a look over there. Is that one fit, with the long dark hair?”
“She’s got to be a mucky tart, her mate looks like a madman’s arse.”
“Can I have the fit one?”
“Now don’t be boring.”
“My knob’s cotdeath – its one foot long, and hard to get up in the morning!”
Thank fuck for ugly women, all the boilers, bags and trolls
Just so they could get a shag, they invented alcohol

She had a face a pig wouldn’t lick, complexion like a bag of sick
Underneath her hanging gut, an alsatian with its windpipe cut
Real fish in her fishnets, and squashed in a paste,
Two eels (heels), two soles, and between her legs
A very smelly plaice (place)

©1989 The Macc Lads
N.B.- It is a well known fact that girls travel in pairs of contrasting appearance. i.e. A fit bird will always have a mate that lives under a stone; a very fit bird will have a chum from the circus. If you see a really hideously deformed car crash victim, wipe away that vomit and buy her pal a pint.


Git – Never played live because the band refused to have that crusty pervert in the van.
Especially not after that business with the coypu. Personally, reprehensible though his personal habits are, I have always been impressed by his very reasonable rates. History will record that the chorus was sung by Buboe, a girlfriend of one of the band… so called as she appeared as a shapely growth under his armpit.

Knobby – I wiped my foreskin in Mrs Rigsby’s butterdish.

ƒ 3/4 Em Am G Bm C
My name is Uncle Knobby, I hang around primary schools
Underneath my raincoat, I’m always totally nude
I show my navel fluff collection to lots of fully-clothed men
I get a full erection, and have to rush to the gents
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, can’t we please go home?
Why do you hide in the bushes? What have you done with our clothes?

I introduce my penis to hamsters, gerbils and mice
I like to read Fiesta, and peek at the reader’s wives

Ooh! Uncle Knobby, where’s our special treat?
Why do you keep taking pictures and sniffing our bicycle seats?

I grummidge in my portfolio, which is full of Tampax ads
I look up my own bottom with mirrors from ladies’ handbags

Ooh! Uncle Knobby, can’t we please go home?
We’ve never seen any dildos, we don’t want to wear pantyhose
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, Why have you smeared us with cake?
We don’t like standing in custard, and we don’t want to play with your snake.

©1987 The Macc Lads


Muttley – A song about a naughty nun, which never got released. Slimy said it was too much to take the piss out of religion as well as everything else. Which was bollocks. He nicked the tape and put it in safe keeping in the hope that one of us would get killed by something thrown on stage. Then he would release it and retire.

Mard – I’m sure I’ve seen Slimy in the audience handing round catapults.
Chorley – And grenades.
Git – Unfounded, groundless accusations. I was in Bournemouth at the time… And I have never seen any of you before in my life.

ƒ D Em7 A Em
She liked a fancy liquor (licker), she was called the Naughty Nun,
Her daddy was a vicar, her brother was a monk,
She wore dirty knickers and she liked the taste of spunk
Its what she drunk
She shagged like a rabbit when she got out the habit
She booked a nine-hour session when she went to do confession
She did her fornication with all the congregation
Chapter nine, verse sixty nine says:

“I’m the new messiah, I turn water into wine
Got a kit from Tesco it was four pounds one and nine
And its divine”

The rector wrecked her rectum when he tied her to his lectern
The preacher tried to teach her how to hold his wedding tackle
While the canon shot his load off just behind the tabernacle
Chapter nine, verse sixty nine says:

“I’m the new messiah, I turn bitter into piss
Here’s the second coming, get your lips around my pips
Genesis, verse sixty six”

“I’m the new messiah, there’s the burning bush
I’ll put my fag out next time that I’m chewing on your chuff”

©1984 The Macc Lads
N.B. Four Pounds One and Nine: = £4.1s.9d (£4. 1/9d) or four pounds & nine new pence.


Git – The unwelcome return of Uncle Knobby. Macc made the 9 0’Clock news when some wretched burglar was stripped, tarred, feathered and chained up by locals. Personally, I would destroy all offenders:- everyone from women drivers to crusty old perverts like … well, like Uncle Knobby actually.

Knobby – I’ve got some warm liver in my trousers.

ƒ 3/4 E D F# G F Em Am C
I used to be disgusting, now I’m just obscene
I lick the feet of lamp posts where dogs have recently been
I loiter near the pet shop, I loiter with intent
I loiter near the hamsters, then I loiter in the gents
(We spy creeps and lechers behind our privet hedges)
(Come on, chant a shanty for the village vigilante)
(We prosecute and pester poofs and child molesters)
(Come on, chant a shanty for the village vigilante)

Some men’s wee is orange, some men’s wee is yellow
I collect it up in jam jars and hide it under my pillow
Sometimes we have wee parties, my friend Nigel likes to boil it
Jason has a spot of milk, I like it straight from the toilet

(We’ve watched you being offensive behind our picket fences)
(Come on, chant a shanty for the village vigilante)
(Perverts all despise us, we’re the fairy liquidisers)
(Come on, chant a shanty for the village vigilante)

©1993 The Macc Lads


O’Peesha – When we had the shop, we used to dread Thursdays. So many fucking dribbling buffoons and windowlickers used to plague us in there:- its obscene.
One example:
This old bloke used to come in every Thursday and dance around like a marionette- you know, like someone was pulling his strings from upstairs. He’d just walk in and start to dance and shout: “Doe!” “Doe!” -For about twenty minutes.

Git – Indeed I was myself tricked into menial shop duty on a Thursday. A smelly chap came in and asked me to play him a record: “Through the big speakers!”
“These, my dear chap, are filing cabinets.” I responded. I flicked the radio on, and he started to dance. To an interview with Kenny Dalglish.

ƒ A D E G
Its thirty foot long and it stinks of piss, sores and scabs all over it
Its rude, its wrinkled, its veins are blue,
Its the Thursday morning pension queue
Senile retards out for a drive, you’re stuck behind a Lada for miles
They drool, they dribble, they cough, they wheeze,
They make you queue for hours at Sainsbury’s

Fuck off down the post office, if you’re handicapped
Village idiot competition for mutants, geeks and spacks

Hobbling, wobbling, doddering, slobbering, stammering, staggering fools.
Dunces, dullards, demented dimwits, imbeciles, buffoons.
Shuffling halfwits interbred, simpletons with mis-shaped heads, rotting fossils, decomposing,
Ninnies with no teeth.
Wronglybuilts, grinning, gurning, incontinents and freaks.

©1993 The Macc Lads
N.B.- Ladas – Old persons’ cars, powered by a rubber bands, only appear when you’re in a hurry.
They’re driven by people who wear hats in the car, and eat picnics in lay-bys of busy dual carriageways.

N.B.- Sainsbury’s – A supermarket on Cumberland St.
It has an uneven, muddy carpark built on a steep gradient- (hence a preponderance of
Jeeps, Range Rovers, and other 4 -wheel drive vehicles parked therein).

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