MORE FRUITY BITS - Volume One
Ivor Biggun Is My Name
The Winkers Song (misprint) - stereo
Sing A Mucky Song
No! No! No!
I Wish I Was
I'm Shy
Graffiti Night Fever
Cucumber Number
Great Grandad John
Underground Music
My Brother's Got Files (misprint)
The Winkers Paradise (misprint)
The Winker's Rock 'N' Roll (misprint) (original version)
I Lift Up My Finger(And I Say Tweet-Tweet)
Send For Dr.Clap
Hide The Sausage (original version)
Give Us A W@nk For Christmas
Bras On 45 (Dirty Gertie Version)
Gums And Plums (live)
John Thomas Allcock (live)
Jeremy Is Innocent
Johnny G fan Club Song
Ivor Biggun is my name
Winking is my claim to fame
And if the people don't complain
I'll keep on winking just the same
Performed by Ivor Biggun
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's CD
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
Available here in stereo is Ivor's single-handed chartbuster deservedly banned by every radio station in the civilised world (and even some in Australia).
My mother said that I never should
Play with the naughty, rude girls in the wood
Their giggling talk I could never understand
And that's why I fell in love with my right hand
And that's why...
I'm a w&nker, I'm a w&nker
And it does me good like it bloody well should
I'm a w&nker, I'm a w&nker
And I'm always pulling my pud'
I was twenty-five years old before I was kissed
And then I found that I preferred a swift one off the wrist
It's cheap and convenient, you can't catch VD
It's available at any time and it's absolutely free
And that's why...
Chorus
Oh Mrs. Palm and your five lovely daughters
Thank you for having me and being oh so kind
I've got pains in my arms and my dong is growing shorter
My knees have turned to water and I think I'm going blind
I've w&nked over Italy, I've w&nked over Spain
I've w&nked in an omnibus, I've even had a w&nk in a train
I've used a badger and a melon and a cat
An inflatable Linda Lovelace and a Davy Crockett hat
And that's why...
Chorus
Oh, Mrs Palm and your five lovely daughters
Thank you for having me and being oh so kind
I've got pains in my arms and my dong is getting shorter
My knees have turned to water and I think I'm going blind
He's a w&nker, he's a w&nker
And it does him good like it bloody well should
He's a w&nker, he's a w&nker
And he's always pulling his pud'
Performed by Ivor Biggun and The Red-Nose Burglars
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on a 7" vinyl Single (mono) and The Winker's Album (stereo)
Mono version available on the CD album The Fruity Bits of Ivor Biggun
Stereo version available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
Ivor's early theme song and signature tune. This features a ukelele solo which is a plucking (misprint) masterpiece.
Some people sing sad songs
About mother and home
Some sing about winking
Women, I'd leave them alone
Some sing about Blue Suede Shoes and
A romance that went wrong
But I pick up my ukulele and
Sing a mucky song
I pluck-pluck-pluck my ukulele and
Serenade the folks so gaily
All around the place you see
The smiles smiles smiles
I pluck for m' dinner
And pluck for m' supper
I'm such a happy little plucker
Singing songs about t*ts and bums
And piles piles piles
My ukulele well it won't bring me wealth
If I play it with the band
Or play with m' self
It's a very nice size
And I can't keep my hand off it for long
So I pick up my ukulele and
Sing a mucky song
I pluck-pluck-pluck my ukulele and
Serenade the folks so gaily
Singing something vulgar
To my chums chums chums
I pluck for m' dinner
And pluck for m' supper
'Eee I'm such a happy little plucker
Singing songs about nudist camps and
Honeymoon couples and bums
A greengrocer's daughter took a
Fancy to me
She let me hold her aubergines
Sat on the settee
She said I could do anything
She wouldn't think it wrong
So I pulled out my ukulele and
Sang a mucky song
So if you got a gum-boil or
A pain in yer bum
And your wife's run off
With the dustbin man now
Doncha feel glum
Don't go around like a misery guts
With a face that's three feet long
Grab yourself a ukulele and
Sing a mucky song
And pluck-pluck-pluck your ukulele
And serenade the folks so gaily
Singing something vulgar to
Your chums chums chums
If you sit there
And play with yourself
You'll either go blind
Or ruin your health
But you'll be the happiest plucker that strums
Singing songs about nudist camps and
Honeymoon couples and bums
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
An appealing (misprint) song which contains few vulgar words, but is much too disgusting to describe. Everyone denies having anything to do with it, even Ivor, but we do know that the backing is by Gentian Violet, a vocal quartet, two thirds of whom are female.
At the appliance shop I bought a filthy book
Locked in the lav I had a bloody good look
There was a naked nude lady and a man dressed the same
Doing something very rude with a funny foreign name
I think it was called 'Ferrétillio'
Which is Spanish for "blowing the bugle"
I went 'round to my girlfriend's house but she said "Ooh
That's not very nice and I don't want to know"
So I tactfully said "Forget that it's a c*ck
Pretend your at the seaside, and it's a stick of rock"
She said "No! No! No!, no that's flat
I could never never do a filthy thing like that"
She said "No! No! No!, no that's flat
I could never never do a filthy thing like that"
She said it was called 'Ferreterloranio'
And was named after an Italian racing driver
Well I filled her up with Whisky and I filled her up with gin
But she still wouldn't do it 'cause she said it was a sin
I even had a bath but the answer was the same
She wouldn't do the thing with the funny foreign name
It was called something like 'Ferreterlerulio'
I said it would protect her from tonsilitus
But she wouldn't swallow that
She said "No! No! No!, no that's flat
I could never never do a filthy thing like that"
She said "No! No! No!, no that's flat
I could never never do a filthy thing like that"
Next day a man in a hat came knocking at the door
He said "You've won the pools, half a million or more"
With the cheque in m' pocket to my girlfriend's house I ran
To see if she was still a vegetarian
I said did she remember what a silly girl she'd been
About the sword-swallowing in that funny magazine
I said would she refuse me and treat me with disdain
Regarding the activity with the funny foreign name
She said "No! No! No!, no that's flat
I could never refuse to do a thing like that
She said "No! No! No!, no that's flat
I could never refuse to do a thing like that...
Mr. F*llatio, the ice-cream man
Hear him jingle jangle in t' ice-cream van
Mr. F*llatio, all the children say hello
To Mr. F*llatio, the ice-cream man
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
The Gazunder Jug and Bottle Band accompanied Ivor throughout this spirited skiffle number. Two police officers then accompanied Ivor from the building.
I wish I was a cat
Sitting on a rug
Pretty girls would come and pick me up
And give me a great big hug
They'd tickle my ears and stroke me
And pat me on the head
And all those wonderful things I'd see
Sleeping at the bottom of the bed
Well I wish I was
Well I wish I could be
Well I wish I was anyone
Somebody else, not me
Ya la la la la la da
I wish I was a mirror
On that mormon lady's wall
All those mucky things I've only read about in mucky books
I would see them all
She'd walk around in a negligée
And a flimsy little nightie
And when she took that nightie off
Oh gosh, good lord almighty
Chorus
I wish I was a brassiere
I'd spend my lifetime thrust
Right up a ladies' jumper
Wrapped 'round a ladies' bust
I would be a hold-up man
Just like Butch Cassidy
An over the shoulder, boulder holder
Brassiere's life for me
Chorus
I wish I was the seat upon
A big fat ladies' bike...
"Hold it, this is the engineer. I'm not going to record anymore of this stuff - It's filthy!!"
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
Ivor is a shy, retiring individual (he was breast fed until the age of twenty four). In this sensitive song, he and The Red-Nose Burglars (aided by The Burglarettes) will tug at your heartstrings.
I'm shy, I'm shy,
I can't even look you in the eye
I go all red and I hide my head
'Cause I'm shy, I'm shy
I wish I was mustard with ladies
Like all of my chums
But I just stare at the bus shelter walls
And twiddle my thumbs
And when I open my big stupid gob
The right word never comes
And I hope you don't mind
That I took such a time
Just to get it in rhyme
He's shy, He's shy,
He can't even look you in the eye
He goes all red and he hides his head
'Cause he's shy, he's shy
If I had the nerve
I'd approach girls in public houses
And find out what's hidden in their hearts
And concealed in their blouses
Wish I could get out what's stuck in my throat
And my brain and my trousers
And I hope you don't mind
That it took such a time
Just to get it in rhyme
He's shy, He's shy,
He can't even look you in the eye
He goes all red and he hides his head
'Cause he's shy, he's shy
And so if you think I don't like you
You see that you're wrong
It's just that what's so hard in words
Is so easy in a song
And I've been looking for someone like you
For my whole life long
And I hope you don't mind
That it took such a time
Just to get it to rhyme
Chorus
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
Ivor's early poetical works may be seen in mural exhibitions in locations throughout North Nottinghamshire, although they are rapidly disappearing due to vandalism and lavatory attendants' scrubbing brushes. This song celebrates the exponents of a delicate and subtle art.
Ho ho, you can't catch me
Writing on the whitewash in the lavatory
Whipping out m' pencil when the twilight falls
I'm the man who scrawls "balls" on the walls
When it's dark I take a stroll
With m' little bit of chalk and m' aerosol
Down in the subway, hiding from the light
Scribbling away in the middle of the night
"Queens Park Rangers", "Elvis is alive"
"Dread in-a Babylon", "Gerald loves Clive"
Ho ho, you can't catch me
Writing in the whitewash in the lavatory
'Round the bus shelters and the entrance halls
I'm the man who scrawls "balls" on the walls
I'm an escalator desecrater rattling down the tubes
On the underwear adverts pencilling pubes
Underneath the arches with m' crayon in m' hand
Drawing something I don't understand
I've just written something obscene
In paint in the gents on a french letter machine
Ho ho, you can't catch me
Writing on the whitewash in the lavatory
Whipping out m' pencil when the twilight falls
I'm the man who scrawls "balls" on the walls
But I've never seen a real live lady in the nude
Never played 'hide the sausage', never done something rude
But I can imagine it just as well
And it doesn't really matter if I can't spell
I'll just write about it all over the lav
And people who read it might think that I have
(Done it with a real lady, that is)
Ho ho, you can't catch me
Writing on the whitewash in the lavatory
Whipping out m' pencil when the twilight falls
I'm the man who scrawls "balls" on the walls
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
A north country calypso featuring guitar, ukelele, banjo, bass, packing case, tin cans, jam jars and a tin of lentils.
Stop muckin' about and gather around
I'll sing about the fruit makes world go 'round
And in the garden of Eden, Eve started the fall
But the fruit that she fancied weren't an apple at all
It was Adam's cucumber (sing the song)
'Ee a great cucumber (two feet long)
A massive cucumber (big and strong)
Fig-leaf cucumber (come and do the cucumber number)
In a cucumber frame one cucumber grows
And it stretches from m' knees up to my nose
It'll fill up your belly make you feel alright
You can gobble the fruit each and every night
Delicious cucumber (in the garden)
'Ee a monstrous cucumber (beg your pardon)
Nice firm cucumber (such a hard 'un)
Enormous cucumber (come and do the cucumber number)
Now down by the Humber
The wife of a plumber
She did the rhumba
On my cucumber
She went and got her neighbours
And a sister or two
And the district nurse and they all said
"Ooh! look at that cucumber" (what a size)
What a fat cucumber (satisfies)
Romantic cucumber (should win a prize)
Gigantic cucumber (come and do the cucumber number)
My fruity friend amused them so
So I got m' cap and jacket getting ready to go
I said "Did you like my big cucumber?"
They all said "Ooh, make your cucumber do one more number"
Trusty cucumber (show them how)
Lusty cucumber (I did and how)
'Ee lovely cucumber (goodbye now)
Good gracious cucumber (goodbye now)
Champion cucumber (goodbye now)
Natty dread cucumber (goodbye now)
Cucumber in-a Babylon (goodbye now)
Oh what a lovely cucumber (goodbye now)
What a beautiful cucumber (goodbye now)
What a smashing cucumber (goodbye now)
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
A nice little song, free from vulgarity, telling a more-or-less true story about the alterations made to a statue by our feathered friends. It's one in the eye for Nelson! Accompaniment is provided by The Guano-Tones.
"Daddy - who's that funny man over there
With all those musical instruments?"
"Why! That's Ivor Biggun the famous one man band"
"What's a one man band, daddy?"
"He's one man and he's banned by television and radio..."
"Young wipper-snapper!"
Well it seems that ever since I was born
Somebody said to me
My Great Grandad John
Was just the kind of man that I ought to be
He built a great big factory
And when he passed away
They put his statue in the park
And its still there today
And the birds make a terrible mess of my Great Grandad John
The doggies leave their calling cards
On the stone he stands upon
The kids throw sticks & bricks at him
They try to pull him down
My Great Grandad John the hero of the town
My Great Grandad John made fifty thousand pounds
But now the money has all gone
And his house has fallen down
No one cares about the rich man
Made of brass and stone
And in the park
Out in the dark
Great Grandad stands alone
And the birds go (twttttttt) on my Great Grandad John
The doggies leave their calling cards
On the stone he stands upon
The kids throw sticks & bricks at him
They try to pull him down
My Great Grandad John the hero of the town
Twttttttt
"Argh! Well at least it wasn't a Golden Eagle!"
Sometimes I think I hear his voice
It sounds so sad and old...
"Up on this pedestal's no fun
It's lonely and it's bloody cold
So just you do what you want to son
Lead the life you choose
And don't make fifty thousand pounds
And end up in my shoes"
"Or the birds will (Twttttttt) on you my great grandson
The doggies leave their calling cards
On the stone you stand upon
The kids throw sticks & bricks at you
They'll try to pull you down
Like Great Grandad John the hero of the town"
"I say you down there - how much do you earn per street?"
"Er... Er... About 50 pence a street guv'ner..."
"Well here's three quid...
Why dont you go and play six streets away"
"It's tough being a superstar..."
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
By Ivor Biggun and Vile Eric Shredsby. Ivor has found his "station" in life and is just the "ticket" on this "track". It should send you into "transports" of delight, with its terrible puns on railway station names. The pseudonym of Ivor's co-writer on this number conceals the identity of an amateur gynaecologist from Acton.
On London Transport I used to do my shopping
Stock-well up down at the Bank and finish up on Wapping station
Tooting my horn, 'n' kids I Turn-ham Green
If they played on the edge where they'd been seen
I was working on the railway
Not as a sleeper as some folk say
I was working on the railway
Mind the doors, you'll be okay
I met a girl call Stepney Green, she really was quite sweet
She used to give me New Cross buns, oh what a Bakers-treet
I got down on my Neas-den said could she give me a kiss
She said go and ask if Barbi-can, I can't Stan-more of this
I was working on the railway (subtle stuff)
Not as a sleeper as some folk say ('ear listen)
I was working on the railway
Mind the doors, you'll be okay
I met a girl called Valerie the Angel of my heart
I tried to get her Plaistow but the Ald-wych was too smart
I said O-Val I'm not a Rich-mond, Golders Green for all I know
She left me by the Waterloo what a loovely way to go
I was working on the railway (flipping 'eck)
Not as a sleeper as some folk say
I was working on the railway
Mind the doors, you'll be okay
My girl from Ealing Common she ran off with High Street Ken
But now she's seen that Kens-al Green she's back with me again
I knew I'd Picc-a-dilly if I worked upon the rail
I'm going to wed Victoria her mother's Maida Vale
I was working on the railway ('ear listen)
Not as a sleeper as some folk say (it's good isn't it)
I was working on the railway
Mind the doors, you'll be okay
Mind the doors, you'll be okay
Written by Ivor Biggun and Vile Eric Shredsby
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
MY BROTHER'S GOT FILES (misprint)
A song of suffering, bravely borne, dedicated to Ivor's brother Willy... whose life is made drearier because of his posterior. Willy lives in Woolwich and has a pain in the Arsenal.
"That's my brother over there standing up, stuffing ice cubes down the back of his trousers and do you want to know why? Well actually, between you and me..."
My brother's got piles
He never ever smiles
You'd be glum
If you had his bum
My brother's got piles
We warned him, we told him
We said don't sit on stone walls
Avoid wet grass, but now his arse
Looks like it's grown another pair of...
Well I mean he's moaning he's groaning
He's doubled up with pain
But the girls say aaah
They think he's a star
Because he walks just like John Wayne
('Ere listen)
My brother's got piles
He never ever smiles (He's quite disconsolate)
You'd be glum
If you had his bum
My brother's got piles
He bought some suppositories but no bloody good they'd done
A waste of time spent swallowing them
He might as well have stuffed them up his bum
My brother's got piles
He never ever smiles
You'd be glum
If you had his bum
My brother's got piles
All the lotions and the potions
Upon the grapes of wrath
Some joker said a poker with a red-hot end might burn them off
His botty feels grotty
And standing up you'll find him
He can't sit down but he shouldn't frown
Because his troubles are all behind him
(Eee by gum)
My brother's got piles
He never ever smiles
You'd be glum
If you had his bum
My brother's got piles
(Tie a yellow ribbon to the old suppository)
My brother has got haemorrhoids, we laugh, it is unkind
The kids all call him choo-choo train 'cause he has a tender behind
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
THE WINKER'S PARADISE (misprint)
Country and northern music with a lilting solo on the harmonica ("mouth organ" sounds so vulgar, doesn't it, my dears?). It is suggestive of the South Sea islands and Ivor's lovely bunch of coconuts.
I dreamed I was on an island
In the South Pacific sea
With ten thousand seagulls, ten million coconuts
Twelve nymphomaniacs and me
I've got eight gramophone records
I've fixed myself up nice
A million miles from a Monday morning
In a w*nker's paradise
A knotted hanky on my head
I sat and took my ease
With a sausage roll and a one-handed magazine
Under the jam-butty trees
When a lifeboat full of schoolgirls
Came serenely floating by
They said with a grin "May we join you in
Your w*nker's paradise?"
I led them dancing from the sea
By the waters we sat down
With a brass-band softly on the breeze
By a lake of Newcastle Brown
It was the clattering clock that woke me
And from my dream I rose
But in my hand was a coconut
And sand was between my toes
Oh, the next time I dream of Shangri-La
You won't have to ask me twice
Next time I go I'm stopping
In a w*nker's paradise
I'm going to hang around like a fart in a Volkswagen
In a w*nker's paradise
I'm gonna hang on in like Gunga Din
In a w*nker's paradise
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on The Winker's Album
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
Original 7" EP notes
Here it is at last, folks! A thrilling seven-incher... featuring FOUR BIG GUNS from IVOR! Yes, old bags-under-the-eyes is back with some more mind rotting filth and depravity dredged up from the darker corners of his small and manure-strewn brain. So roll back the carpet!! Go to the cocktail cabinet and make yourself a STIFF ONE, wind up the gramophone, blindfold the guinea pig, lock the kids in the wash-house, and let it all hang out! Listen enruptured as Britain's foremost w*nker forks through his musical dung-hill of North Country naughtiness, and offers two big bouncers on the front and a big double back-side!! It's Ivor's EXTENDED 'UN.. a bargain Biggun that's bound to go spurting up the charts! (By the way, don't be 'palmed off' with imitations!)
GARY NUMAN DOES NOT APPEAR ON THIS RECORD
THE WINKER'S ROCK 'N' ROLL (misprint) (original version)
Recorded mostly at Ivor's home studio in Sheep's Bottom, Nottinghamshire. Featuring the voices of The Four Squirts (Ivan E. Normussun, Hugh Jampton, Dick Brandisher & John Thomas Allcock). With winkle pickers twitching and drainpipes draining, Ivor and the lads really beat it out in this gripping hand-jive number. Ivor lays down his astonishing red hot twiddley bits on a blue suede ukelele.
Because the red-nosed burglars (Ivor’s Vocal Group) weren’t renowned for their great ability to remember tunes, lyrics or even their own names, Ivor typed out a lyric sheet (for The Wanker’s Rock’n' Roll) for them. Here it is printed out directly from Biggun’s ancient computer file - Ain't technology bloody marvelous?
one two three four
Change hands!
five six seven eight
Change hands!
nine ten eleven twelve
Change hands!
When I was a kid in 1956
My big brother showed m' some disgusting tricks
Sitting in the bathroom on my own
W*nking to the rhythm of m' gramophone
And I was going
1-2-3-4 change hands
5-6-7-8 change hands
9-10-11-12 change hands
All you need is the rhythm and the wrist control
And you can do the w*nker's rock 'n' roll
Well I tried to do the shimmy, I tried to do the twist
I tried to do the tango, I nearly broke me wrist
The women all point at me and scoff
Say "You won't need me 'til your hand drops off"
And I'm going
1-2-3-4 change hands
5-6-7-8 change hands
9-10-11-12 change hands
All you need is the rhythm and the wrist control
And you can do the w*nker's rock 'n' roll
Give me a 'W'
Give me an 'A'
Give me an 'N'
Give me a 'K'
Give me an 'E'
Give me a 'R'
Stick it all together and what's that spell?
I've got Great Balls Of Fire
I've got blisters on me palms
I've got the Willie And The Hand-Jive
And muscular arms
The Teds call me "W*nker"
When I'm walking down the street
'Cause I walk the Jerky-Gurky
To the Boogie-Woogie beat
And I'm going
1-2-3-4 change hands
5-6-7-8 change hands
9-10-11-12 change hands
All you need is the rhythm and the wrist control
And you can do the w*nker's rock 'n' roll
When Long Tall Sally met Johnny B. Goode
He didn't do nothing but pull his pud'
Just the wrist and the fist and you can't go wrong
Doing the Hand-Jive all night long
Chorus
Performed by Ivor Biggun and The Ivor Jivers
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on a 7" Extended Play - (BOP 5)
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
I LIFT UP MY FINGER (And Say Tweet-Tweet)
Written by Leslie Sarony in the 1920's, this little song is perfectly broadcastable and contains no blatant filth or cussing. Recorded mostly at Monterey Studios, London W7. Featuring electric guitar by the multi-talented Johnny G!
Some people make a fuss when a thing goes wrong
Some people swear and cuss, others sing a song
I don't do either that's all na-poo
When a thing goes wrong with me
This is what I do
I lift up my finger and I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
I don't have to linger when I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
When the wife tells me where I ought to be
Do I sit there feeling glum?
No, I lift up my finger and I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
So if you're in a train full of Manchester United supporters
And you're the only one wearing a Queens Park Ranger's scarf
Or if you're trapped in the lavs by a fellow with nail varnish and eye-shadow
Don't lose your cool, don't be dismayed, just do what I do
I lift up my finger and I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
I don't have to linger when I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
When a girl says "Dear, I'm lost around here"
Do I sit and suck my thumb
No, I lift up my finger and I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
Some people say tut-tut, others say dash-dash
Some call for beef or ... others .. and mash
If in the hotel waiters are slow
Do I thunder what the? who the? why the? how the? no!
I lift up my finger and I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
I don't have to linger when I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
When the cats at night are starting to fight
Do I sit there meek and mum?
No, I lift up my finger and I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
I lift up my finger and I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
I don't have to linger when I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
When the wife tells me where I ought to be
Do I sit there feeling glum?
No, I lift up my finger and I say tweet-tweet
hush-hush, now-now, come-come
Performed by Ivor Biggun & a vocal Quartet The Three Skins (one didn't turn up)
Written by Leslie Sarony
Published by Francis Day & Hunter - EMI Music
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on a 7" Extended Play - (BOP 5)
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
A Sailor's love song. Get a dose of this infectious number!!! When Ivor performs this song 'live' the audience often give him the clap that he so richly deserves. Recorded mostly at Spotted Dick Studios, Long Benton, Berks.
Well if you've got something wrong
With the end of your dong
And a pain in your old chap
Send for, send for, send for Dr. Clap
If you're feeling grotty
And your dongler's spotty
That's no great mishap
Send for, send for, send for Dr. Clap
'Cause he's the man who will make you good as new
He's the man who will cure you of your ills
He's the man who will paint your privates blue
With his great big hypodermic and his great big pills
If you've got a throb in the end of your knob
And it dangles like a strap
Send for, send for, send for Dr. Clap
And ladies too, he'll see to you
He won't make you blush
Come along and lie down on his couch
Point your path in his direction
And wait for his injection
You'll only feel a little prick and you won't say "Ouch!"
(And it's on the National Health)
If you've got a failure in your g*nitalia
Don't get in a flap
Send for, send for, send for Dr. Clap
If you've got a pain or a varicose vein
Where it didn't ought to be
Send for, send for, send for Clap M.D.
Chorus
Well if you've got something wrong with the end of your dong
And a pain in your old chap
Send for, send for, send for Dr. Clap
You've gotta...
Send for, send for, send for Dr. Clap
Performed by Ivor Biggun and The Penicillin Five
with Massive Howard Massey doing the hand claps
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on a 7" Extended Play - (BOP 5)
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
HIDE THE SAUSAGE (original version)
Recorded mostly at Monterey Studios W7 with Terrific Teddy MacDouall, guitar & Fanny Boovines on backing vocals. Based on an old traditional Rotherham whippet neutering song called "I've Got A Hot Dog If You've Got The Bun". Biggun is accompanied by an upright organ and expertly handled maraccas.
Well there's a brand new dance
Everybody's trying to do
It's better than the pogo
The shimmy or the boogaloo
You can do it by yourself
But it's much more fun with two
So come on everybody
Let's go nuts and screw
And this is just what you do
You've got to...
Hide the sausage
Come on and hide the sausage
It's time to hide the sausage tonight
You've got to sink the winkle
It's really very simple
To straighten out your wrinkle tonight
Come on let's play mums and dads
The moon is shining bright
Come on everybody and hide the sausage tonight
Get it right out of sight
Well a little chippolata
That points down to your toes
Is as good as a big Frankfurter
That reaches up to your nose
Well if it's a Wiener Schnitzel (Mein Gott)
Or a hot dog stuffed in a bun
Or a big black pudding
Come and do it everyone
You can join in the fun
When you...
Chorus
It's a dance you can do on the sofa
It's a dance you can do in the park
You can even do it in Piccadilly Circus
If you're quick and you do it when it's dark
You can do it backwards, frontwards and sideways
Provided that you're over sixteen (Oh no you don't!)
You can even do it standing up, I've seen it in a magazine
But you've got to be keen
When you...
Chorus
Well there's a brand new dance
Everybody's trying to do
It's better than the pogo
The shimmy or the boogaloo
You can do it by yourself if you're a w*nker
But it's much more fun with two
So come on everybody
Let's go nuts and screw
And this is just what you do
You've got to...
Chorus
Hide the sausage, come on and hide the sausage
Hide the sausage, come on and hide the sausage
Let's all spear the bearded clam
C'mon let's all sink the .... dagger
Ooh it's wonderful to hide the sausage
C'mon everybody it's time to hide the sausage
Performed by Ivor Biggun and The Fifty Flicks
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on a 7" Extended Play - (BOP 5)
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
I dreamed my snowman came to life and walking in the air
He led me to a magic land of toys, I know not where
Ho ho "What do you want for Christmas?" said old Santa, bold and stout
I pointed at his fairies and I began to shout...
Give us a w@nk for Christmas
I've been good all year and that's a fact
Give us a w@nk for Christmas
Then you'll see what Santa Claus has brung you in his sack
Give us a w@nk for Christmas
Stir my pud' and wipe it on your sleeve
Give us a w@nk and by way of saying thanks
I'll rub your t*ts until it's New Years eve
Give us a w@nk for Christmas
Tug that bell rope, hear that old ding-dong
Give us a w@nk for Christmas
I've not sworn, nor drunk, nor told a lie the whole year long
Give us a w@nk for Christmas
It only comes but once a year they say
Manipulate my member for the last week in December
And I'll rub your t*ts until it's New Years day
Santa's coming, Santa's coming
Coming as he's riding on his sleigh
Gazing, it's quite plaid dear
At the rear ends of his reindeer
I guess he's funny that way
So... Give us a w@nk for Christmas
Shake my spruce until the needles drop
Give us a w@nk for Christmas
Now's the time to strangle the last turkey in the shop
Give us a w@nk for Christmas
Shake the big balls on my Christmas tree
Pull my cracker, ho-ho-ho
Stuff your drawers with mistletoe
And I'll rub your t*ts until it's January
Oh come on... please... just for Christmas
Just this once... it won't take very long... it never does
Performed by Ivor and Jilly
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Stiff Weapon
Lyrics reprinted by permission of Stiff Weapon
It is illegal to reprint the lyrics without permission of the publisher
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
BRAS ON 45 (Dirty Gertie Version)
See 'The Fruity Bits...' for the additional lyrics
Spoken introduction
Well my name is Ivor Biggun
And they say I've never been kissed
My s*x life took one hell of a knock
On the day I broke my wrist
I much prefer hand shandy to the company of lasses
Everybody says that I'll go blind
You'll notice I'm wearing glasses
For my name is Ivor Biggun and
I sing about them tits and them bums
Whoa now you know my name you'd better
Get your gums around my plums
My name is Ivor Biggun
I'm disgusting and obscene
I blow my nose without a hankie
And my fingernails aren't clean
I'm public enema number one
A man of effluence and style
My 'je ne sais quoi' is obvious
'Cause it sticks out a mile
Whoa my name is Ivor Biggun and
I sing about them tits and them bums
Whoa now you know my name you'd better
Get your gums around my plums
Well my name is Ivor Biggun
But some dispute that fact
And they suggest I contravene
The trade descriptions act
But my girl said she's marry me
If I had a twelve inch dong
I said "I'll cut it down to any size luv
If you think that it's too long"
Whoa my name is Ivor Biggun and
I got my mojo workin' well
Well you can press my button
Press my button and ring my bell
Well Ivor Biggun, Ivor Biggun, Ivor Biggun
Ivor Biggun, Ivor Biggun, Ivor Biggun
Ivor Biggun, Ivor Biggun, Ivor Biggun
I'm moderately well endowed
I'm Britain's champion wanker
I'm renowned throughout the land
Everybody knows my name
But nobody wants to shake my hand
Whoa my name is Ivor Biggun and
I sing about them tits and them bums
Whoa now you know my name you'd better
Get your gums... around my plums
Performed live at The Swan, Fulham broadway with Ivor's Jivers
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released as a bonus track on the CD of Partner's In Grime - (BBL 79CD)
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
Spoken introduction
John Thomas Allcock
He lived north-east of Whitstable
He's got that certain something
That the girls find irresit-stible
He's a fine upstanding fella
And they say for what it's worth
His mother was frightened by a donkey
Six months before his birth
And when the midwife heaved him out
The first thing she could seize on
It wasn't his arm, it wasn't his leg
And I guess that that's the reason
Why...he's... the...
Man with the biggest plonker in the world
He keeps it in his trousers tightly curled
It's a yard-and-a-half if it's a inch
And it's more when it's unfurled
He's the man with the biggest plonker in the world
John Thomas Allcock
At school the kids all gathered 'round
And said "Please tell us what is that
Behind you, trailing on the ground?"
He said it was a python and
It had got the mumps
He stuck it in his ear and said
"I am a petrol pump"
He stuffed it down his wellies
And the teacher said "Now John
You'll have to stay behind when all the other kids have gone"
And that's what's known as Further Education
But you don't get a certificate for it
Because... he was... the one and only...
The man... the man... talkin' 'bout the man...
The man with the biggest plonker in the world
He keeps it in his trousers tightly curled
It's a yard-and-a-half if it's a inch
And it's more when it's unfurled
He's the man with the biggest plonker in the world
John Thomas Allcock
He grew up and he went to sea
Modelling for masts
And for chimneys for the admiralty
Then he got married and he had five kids
And it comes as no surprise
He's got a lovely wife
With a rather strange expression in her eyes
She just stands there and she goes baawaaagh...
And it hardly surprising because she's married to...
The one and only... the man... the one and only man...
A very extraordinary man...
The man with the biggest plonker in the world
He keeps it in his trousers tightly curled
It's a yard-and-a-half if it's a inch
And it's more when it's unfurled
He's the man with the biggest plonker in the world
John Thomas Allcock
He died, oh yes he did
And because of rigor mortis
They couldn't shut the coffin lid
And now he's up in heaven
And his kids are very proud
To see their daddies dongler
Dangling through the clouds
And when it's dark and midnight
You can hear the ladies sigh
And whisper when the ghost
Of old John Tom goes slithering by
Dragging his enormous equipment behind him
Because... they know... that he... is... the...
Man with the biggest plonker in the world
He keeps it in his trousers tightly curled
It's a yard-and-a-half if it's a inch
And it's more when it's unfurled
He's the man with the biggest plonker
What an enormous stonker
He's the man with the biggest plonker in the world
Performed live at The Swan, Fulham broadway with Ivor's Jivers
Written by Ivor Biggun
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released as a bonus track on the CD of Partner's In Grime - (BBL 79CD)
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
Ooh-la-la-la-la-la
Ooh-la-la-la-la-la
Ooh-la-la-la-la-la
Ooh
Jeremy, Jeremy
Produced by Ted MacDouall at Monterey Studios,
Written by Ivor Biggun and Ted MacDouall
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on a Single - (BOP 4)
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun
Johnny is the singer in a one-man band
He's got the drums on his feet
He's got the guitar in his hand
Mondays to Saturdays and one-night stands
But he doesn't do it for the glory
He's kicking on the pedal
And keeping it tight
He's going for the rhythm
'Cause he knows that's right
Playing for drinks and cash on the night
I guess it's the same old story
J-J-J-J-J Johnny
Won't you play your one-man band
J-J-J-J-J Johnny
Play me something that I can understand
J-J-J-J-J Johnny
Play me something that I can clap my hands
And he goes
B'wana, B'wana, B'wana, B'wana
B'wana, B'wana, B'wana, B'wana
B'wana, B'wana, B'wana, B'wana
They're only rhymes to lines
And he goes
B'wana, B'wana, B'wana, B'wana
B'wana, B'wana, B'wana, B'wana
B'wana, B'wana, B'wana, B'wana
They're only rhymes to lines
Smiley Lewis and Wee Willie Wayne
Antoine Domino and Mystery Train
Lawdy Miss Claudy and Love In Vain
He can play any song that you give him
He's a rock steady teddy with a Berry on top
He's a Blue Suede cruiser with a Diddley-Bop
He's a Country Line Special he's a top of the pop
He's got a wonderful sense of rhythm
J-J-J-J-J Johnny
Won't you play your one-man band
J-J-J-J-J Johnny
Play me something that I can understand
J-J-J-J-J Johnny
Play me something that I can clap my hands
And he goes
Tell your ma, tell your pa
This old boy's gonna drive you so far
Everybody goes cruisin' on a saturday night
"Hello, my name's Johnny G and I'm going to be famous"
Johnny had a record but it just didn't sell
It didn't get promoted so it didn't do well
The radio said it was as funky as hell
I guess it's just a matter of timing
But Johnny's gonna make it
It's as plain as plain
And we can say we knew him
Before he made his name
Johnny's got his ticket
Catching every train
To where the spotlight's shining
J-J-J-J-J Johnny
Won't you play your one-man band
J-J-J-J-J Johnny
Play me something that I can understand
J-J-J-J-J Johnny
Play me something that I can clap my hands
And he goes...
(excerpt from Theme from Sharp & Natural)
Written by Ivor Biggun
Theme from Sharp & Natural by John Gotting
Published by Universal Music Publishing Ltd./ Momentum 3
Lyrics reprinted by permission of the publishers
Original version released on Pure Beaujolais,
a bonus disc with the Johnny G album Water Into Wine
Available on the CD album More Fruity Bits - The Rest of Ivor Biggun