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An old-fashioned, triple-rhyming, Much-Binding-on-the-Marsh sort
of a lyric, chock full of the rollicking double entendre and nudge-wink
which have always characterised English comic song.
Well, that's how I see it anyway. There is a school of thought
that says it's just rude, and I can't deny that the premise is entirely
sexual. How could it not be, because, of course, this song is really
about how only the vocabulary has changed since the Gill postcards
of those skinny, ineffectual, little berks standing in the looming
shadows of their domineering better halves on a Skegness beach.
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Anyway, what's wrong with a bit of honest vulgarity? We're all
post-ironists now, I take it, and this sort of material is touchingly
naive compared with, say, a Frank Skinner or Graham Norton routine.
It's not, after all, that it's a particulary modern phenomenon.
I mean, have you ever heard the second verse of I Don't Want to
Join the Army? It'd make a regimental sergeant major blush, which
is rather the point. It's also very funny.
And yet, and yet...
[To be continued. All observations welcome}
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