Pap HQ – Papples Album Update

I have been doing some serious work now that the impending recording date is merely days away. It’s been all out on my pad of paper. I’ve been meaning to have a bash at some other lyrics for a while now, you know other than the fully-formed songs I wrote earlier on in the year, and it was only yesterday with a cat box sat on my lap on the bus that I found the chance. It wasn’t the opportunity I was expecting but I’m not one to complain much outside of the usual realms of music and sh*t acting.

I think this third effort will be our best yet, taking in many different ideas about love and the world and everything that goes on especially when it involves animals, woodland creatures and inanimate objects. There’s not enough songs about lamps out there and I think we might be the ones to sort that out. Due to the fall of many great heroes this year there also might be room for a tribute to someone very dear to our hearts. If Geno Washington and Princess Diana can get a song then I’m sure he can too.

I feel very moist. There’s a lot of work to be done however you can be assured that it will be done to the highest standard when the Papples are involved. I just hope that we’ve both managed to shift our colds otherwise it will be the chuggiest record you’ve ever heard. Yes, that’s right, I still refer to albums as records. I’m not the only person you know.

Pass me my chugg-o-meter!

(somebody please help me get Let Loose out of my head!)

November 9th, 2011 Ian

Lovely Little Chaffinch

November 7th, 2011 Ian

Musical Interlude

‘There was a cowboy who lived a long way from home,
He went to a sausage bar but there was nothing there
So he went to another bar
There was no beer but have no fear

He lived in an old abandoned house and was so very old
And he lived so wiseley he never went out
And then he died
‘Cos he had no fooooooooood!’

October 28th, 2011 Ian

You Gotta Be (Helping Me Out)

Scratch that! Des is back, and she’s not going to drive you home because you drank too many bottles of Slate. She’s back with a renewed sense of idealism and a new contract, new parking space and a new apron. Yazz’s Help ‘Em All Hotline will continue taking calls for the moment however for now let us delve into the wonderful melee of hindrances and ailments plaguing the general public.

Let’s meet H-Hog D-Lemma. Then let’s meet Bobby Patches, who’s the one we should be speaking to:

Bobby Patches: Dear Des’ree, I live on a street with many competative people. All they ever seem to do is try to get one up on another and it’s doing my head in. So much so that I’ve decided to join in. I want to try and make my car the fastest but it’s only got a two litre engine. I bought it for £500.00 from Wench Iser, a local crook on the deadpan pony circuit, and it’s a good all rounder don’t get me wrong. Part of me wants to rev the shit out of everything though. I heard a rumour that the more spoilers you have on your car the faster it goes; is this true? Is there anything else I can do to crush those at my feet?

Des’ree: Life, oh life, oh life, oh life.

Helping others really gives me a good vibe you couldn’t knock with a baseball bat made of purest venom. It helps to feel this way during the cold months as otherwise we’d all be dry husks living on rusks waiting for dusk. Saliva has so many qualities does it? Pull the other one. Until next time everybody.

October 27th, 2011 Ian

God Damn Poetry – Shrap

When I check my pockets
I’m looking for change
But all the coins make me slightly deranged
I’ve got shrap, too much shrap

When I’m paying for tabs
Or a few sticky dib dabs
I’m pulling out coppers I didn’t know I had
I’ve got shrap, far too much shrap

There’s no end to this mound
Wish I’d swapped for a note
It’s too early for me to be dealing with crap
I’ve got shrap, endless shrap

Help me Metro machine
Won’t you help me clean
Out my trousers of coins, it’s damaging my loins
Bank won’t take what I’ve got, not one little jot
So I’m trying to strive, to stake out and survive
Buying shopping with fives, coming out with hives
From the pressure and stress and my face is a mess

I’ve got shrap. Take my shrap.

October 26th, 2011 Ian

The Noble Art of Conversation

Me: Hello?

Pig: You f*cking b*stard, I am going to find you and f*ck you up good and proper sunshine. You will find me at the other end of the boot that is going to be kicking your a*se good and proper.

Me: Is that Kev?

Pig: When you wake up you will f*cking fear me. I will be the first f*cking thing on your mind, son. You will sh*t your pants at the veru sight of me and I will be on your case twenty four seven you just watch.

Me: In that case I’m gonna need to buy some more pants.

Pig: You what?

Me: If I’m going to be cacking my pants every, what, hour or so then I’m going to need much, much more boxer shorts and they aren’t cheap.

Pig: No you don’t seem to…

Me: And I don’t get paid for another fortnight so is there any chance you might be able to hold off until say November sometime? Actually no that’s a busy month for me. And then there’s Christmas, ooo it’s all adding up. Could we possibly I know you were hoping for like now but would you mind waiting until the end of January?

Pig: END OF JANUARY?!?

Me: I’ll have to pay for Christmas and then there’s the boy’s birthday and he wants a party and everything. I’m not the richest man in the world and then having to save up for a sudden onslaught of terror brought on by a mysterious caller who is threatening to make me empty my bowels several times a day, well it’s a bit of an inconvenience.

Pig: Look just forget it, alright?

Ian: No come on, don’t be like that. I’m totally up for it however you just have to give me a little more time.

Pig: It’s not worth it. If your hearts not in it.

Ian: My heart is in it. Don’t be like this

Engaged tone.

Ian: This is why I never answer calls after, on or before 9pm.

October 25th, 2011 Ian

God Damn Poetry – Got It All Wrong

I loved a girl so much I stalked her face off,
In that I did it a lot
Not that I actually got
Up and removed the skin
To show the vessels within.
I followed her home,
She watched Bugsy Malone,
Then she closed all the curtains like a toblerone.

It was much easier to do that you might have expected.
Her peripheral vision
Was compromised by a fishing
Accident as a child
So her sight was quite mild.
I could sneak round her house,
Like a seedy woodlouse,
Steal a look through a window then disappear like a mouse.

I should be a little less creepy in my romantic pursuits,
Because I may be kind,
Of sound body and mind,
A little podgy of hips,
I smell like tortilla dips.
I’m lacking a certain something
That makes me quite appealing
Girls are more likely to run than to dance on the ceiling.

October 24th, 2011 Ian

‘Neglect’ is a seven letter word

Good morning sports fans!

I am sorry for the absence of sports-related articles on the Beans and will have to continue this apology even further because the next few paragraphs will also not contain anything to do with any sports whatsoever. Not even famous headlines this morning such as Manchester United losing to Manchester City, or who won the rugby world cup (awful score).

We have however got a lot lined up for this week including a peek at Des’ree and her helpful hints with YOUR lives, a pig in a phone box, countless pieces of pointless poetry, some very very good inventions and possibly even a cash-in tie-in with something. There’s at least one thing everyone is looking forward to in the coming months it’s just that nobody wants to mention it out loud and spoil the ethos, apart from several employees working in my office who love to announce how many days are left.

Still, at least nobody is forcing you to listen to Let Loose.

October 24th, 2011 Ian

Quick Bucks

So, you’re struggling a bit for money at the moment. It’s Christmas shortly, in a couple of months, everyone is vying for your money. Your hard-earned pennies aren’t going to cut it and when you look in the mirror all you can see is stress lines from the constant pressure. It does make you wonder why people do this to themselves year after year. What on earth could you do to make ends meet?

You could record a pop song! It doesn’t even necessarily have to be one for Christmas because from now until the end of time there will be either an X Factor-ite clogging up the charts with some dodgy cover or anti X Factor block party. What you need is something catchy yet generic that once it has outstayed its welcome can be used on countless amounts of radio jingles and television advertisements.

Do you think the Beach Boys were looking to sell small cheeses when they were singing Barbara Ann? That Glen Campbell was hoping that, years later, a bank would poach his song and change the lyrics to something savings accounts? No! Some are unfortunate, most are just plain wrong. If your song has a plain chorus or title like ‘I Want It All’ by Queen or ‘Just What I Always Wanted’ by Mari Wilson then obviously some advertising cohort is going to find and destroy your song for their own benefits.

Still, your benefits will be money lining your pocket, no matter what your voice and tune have been set against. This is where the poor line starts; do you want to join the back? Quick, think of something that you know people will need or that they say often and then draft a little cheeky something or other. Add percussion, piano and maybe some bass and watch as the cash rolls in.

I am off to write my song ‘Give Me Your Number’ which I’m hoping will be used to advertise both dating websites and even the police service. Watch this space.

October 19th, 2011 Ian

Logical Dreamscape (12)

The location doesn’t matter, mainly because I don’t remember that particular detail. All I do know is that a couple from the music quiz I go to on a Tuesday evening decided that they wanted me to get them some cinder toffee. It was a specific kind and brand of cinder toffee though, not just any old nonsense. I set about looking for this because I’m not the kind of person to give up on a quest especially when essentially set by strangers.

I think I found a shop and inside was the cinder toffee I was looking for. As I leave the shop the street disappears and I appear to be in a castle. I’m dressed like the Prince of Persia. I appear to be the Prince of Persia and so, dropping the cinder toffee, the person playing the game moves me. I can’t control any of my limbs. They walk me through a door without anything on the other side and so I fall down to my death.

It was a little more grim than usual even with the cinder toffee. Still, at least I don’t dream about lemonade and cheese and onion toasties.

October 18th, 2011 Ian

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