Bob Geldof? Rob Ripof, more like…
Like so many of his generation, Bob Geldof idolised me in the early 80s. He made no secret of modeling ‘The Boomtown Rats’ on my band, ‘The Council Estate Speckle-tailed Hamsters’.
I tolerated the likeness in the beginning, but when The Rats released ‘Don’t Like Mondays’ two weeks after The Hamsters far less successful ‘Mondays are Shite’, I felt compelled to confront the cad in a London pub.
Bob was initially gracious. He contended imitation to be the most sincere form of flattery and apologised for any offense caused. Furthermore, he offered me a generous co-writer credit on ‘Don’t Like Mondays’. I accepted his apology, shook his hand, waited for him to turn away, took hold of a bar stool and smashed it over his back.
Unfortunately, I failed to capitalise on my underhandedness. Bob quickly gained the upper hand, gifting me a beating so severe that I permanently lost the ability to exhale. Rendered unconscious for the last forty minutes of the assault, there’s not much else I recall about it. That said, credible eyewitnesses inform me that Sir Bob….
- threw me down a flight of stairs, paid a flock of hobos to retrieve me, and repeated the process several times
- stripped me naked and took a Brillo pad to over 80% of my body
- grasped my hair in one hand, penis in the other, and spun me around in a helicopter fashion. When sufficient momentum was built, he released his grip and sent me careering through the plate-glass front of a local Burger King
Things were slightly awkward between us afterwards. Still, some years later I naively shared with him my brainwave for a one-off charity single, sung by a super-group of contemporary musicians. Bob was a human (unhygienic) rolodex with contacts galore, and I asked for his help in assembling the choral troupe. Little did I know he was already colluding with an obscure cunt named Midge Ure to repackage my idea as ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’, by ‘Band Aid’.
I present now the lyrics of my own super-group charity single, which not only holds superiority over Geldof’s cheap knock-off, but is regarded by many as the greatest song ever written. Enjoy!
FEED THE NEEDY
by
Flann O’Coonassa
First Verse
(Jimmy Nail) Rejoice starving Africans, celebrities have heard your call,
(Rolf Harris) ‘Norms’ had their chance to help, and managed to do fuck all,
(Tommy Cannon) And though you could argue, we already do more than enough,
(Bobby Ball) There’s no argument about it, we definitely already do
.
Chorus
(Everybody) It’s time to feed the Needy, they haven’t a pot to piss,
(Lou Ferrigno) In………………………………………………………………….,
(Everybody) Yes it’s time to feed the Needy, though obviously not right now,
(Willis from Different Strokes) But definitely in the short to medium term, it’ll be time to act right then
.
Second Verse
(Bono’s second cousin, Dermot Hewson) I saw a starving African, near my fixed abode,
(Max from Hart to Hart) Fearing what I didn’t know, I chased him down the road,
(Mel) He fled into the blades of a combined harvester, and now he’s in the ground,
(Kim) We have to start helping these people, but obviously not right now
.
Chorus
(Everybody) Because it’s time to feed the Needy, they haven’t a pot to piss,
(Lou Ferrigno) In………………………………………………………………….,
(Everybody) Yes it’s time to feed the Needy, though obviously not right now,
(Willis from Different Strokes) But definitely in the short to medium term, it’ll be time to act right then
A beautiful song indeed. Some of my mates were into The Council Estate Speckle-tailed Hamsters but soon moved onto Wham and Cher. A Brillo pad is a true mark of disrespect I’m surprised you haven’t had Geldof done in the knees, you have more restraint than Old Knudsen whose song about demon possession ‘Devil inside’ was ripped off by INXS. I won’t tell you what I did to the singer thus condemning the rest of the members to reality shows and bad facial hair.
‘The Council Estate Speckle-tailed Hamsters’
A much better name for a band. Hamster’s don’t have much of a tail, but proportionally, they beat rats hands-down in the testicle department, and that’s saying something.
“gifting me a beating so severe that I permanently lost the ability to exhale”
I’m assuming you can still inhale, of course.
“Yes it’s time to feed the Needy, though obviously not right now”
Brilliant song, and I’m absolutely crushed that Bob’s came out ahead, as all his song did was to help feed a lot of Africans, who then in turn had more Africans, who then also needed fed. Yours was definitely the better choice.
If I see that rat bastard in the street I will punch him in the balls, not only for you, but to hopefully keep him from ever breeding again.
Hola Flan!
Is there any significance in the fact that everyone involve with your record is now dead?
Besos
Manuel
I completely disagree with Sparrow. As a dedicated rat-keeper who once had a hamster, I can sternly tell you all that rats have testicles bigger than the average hamster’s house. They’re also less likely to eat their children. Hamsters are crap. A pox on the hamsters.
And yeah, Bob Geldof, what a cunt, etc.
Old Knudsen, a lot of people seemed to find Wham and Cher a logical progression from the Speckle-tailed Hamsters. Others reportedly found it a logical progression to stop listening to music permanently, which was flattering, in a deeply insulting kind of way.
Hey Fat Sparrow….
I’m assuming you can still inhale, of course.
Yes, I’m now inhaling twice per cycle: once in the normal place, and a second time where the exhale used to be. Doctors have told me this is unsustainable in the long run, so I’m nervous about what the future holds.
Look Manuel, I can’t sit here and tell you that people who work with me musically don’t always die soon after. We both know they always do, so I won’t insult you or the families of the deceased by claiming otherwise.
You see Sweary, this is why neither The Hamsters nor The Rats enjoyed lasting musical success. Too much politics surrounding testicular ratios of hamsters and rats.
I can’t sit here and tell you that people who work with me musically don’t always die soon after. We both know they always do, so I won’t insult you or the families of the deceased by claiming otherwise.
Any chance you might collaborate with Simon Cowell one of the days….
Any chance you might collaborate with Simon Cowell one of the days: He ripped me off too Galwaywegian. Don’t get me started on my ill-fated “Y Factor” program.
Is it true that in making the song Cannon & Ball fell out and were never seen live on stage together again?
That’s true ‘The Fan’, although the song itself wasn’t the source of their contention. No, they fell out initially over a stolen canteen sandwich, and matters escalated when Ball stitched Cannon’s wife a loaf during the song’s wrap party.
I’m not sure they ever spoke again, let alone performed together again.
Still think the lines were allocated unfairly
Jesus Lou, not this shit again. Why can’t you let it go? You’re not even a singer for Christ’s sake.
Just be happy you were involved. We only brought you in because the guy who plays ‘Alf’ came down with tonsillitis.
Don’t make me angry..
It’s a fair threat. Noted.
Just say the word, and a certain rat will go boom all ower town. I still have plenty of oranges and rope left ower fae your man Hutchins, to make it look like another accident.
He’ll love feckin Mondays after I’ve nipped off the first few fingers with the oul Black & Decker..
Ah, Black and Decker. When you absolutely positively have to de-finger an aging Irish activist, would you really trust any other brand? Possibly Bosch, but I find Bosch tools don’t glide through skull the way Black and Decker tools do.