This, along with the next post, originally featured in a pilot issue of a stupid paper I was going to write called The Rub, back in August 07. It ended up not really going anywhere, but here are some bits from it for your reading pleasure. I know a Jamie T parody isn’t exactly culturally relevant at the moment, but hey: fuck you. Ever wonder why you haven’t heard from Jamie T for a while? It’s because he’s been FEELING THE BURN EVER SINCE.

We’ve managed to obtain the full lyric sheet to the mockney janglemeister’s latest juvenile shitfest. ‘My Mate Darryl’ is released on September 5th and the video is already clogging up inboxes around the world. The controversial promo clip features a sustained single take of Bob Hoskins, crying, naked and alone, masturbating to a climax in a cold prison cell.

MY MATE DARRYL

VERSE 1: (rapped)
My mate Darryl’s a bona fide scumbag
When he goes on holiday he wears a green bumbag
I said ‘Darryl, you don’t half look dumb sometimes’,
And he said ‘Nah mate, trust’.
That’s a pointless story with a pointless end
I won’t pretend it’s anything but an ex-cuh-yoose;
To loosely rhyme ‘bumbag’ with ‘scumbag’
I think it turned out fine
When it was my birthday last Jan-yoo-ary
Mary bought me a rhyming dic-shon-ary
At first I was wary it was very scary
But soon I was tinkering like Claudio Ranieri
I know that I make it look easy, believe me, it ain’t
I am an artist and words are my paint
Actual songs are oh-so-quaint
This is the noughties mate.

CHORUS (sung)
Strap on my guitar and sing you a song
Sing a ling a song-a-long all day long
And even if my voice just seems plain wrong
You’ll buy the album anyway
Dontcha know it’s a tra-jed-ee
It’s easier to rap than write a meh-lo-dy
So here’s some more half arsed balladry
Get the red carpet rolled out

VERSE 2 (rapped)
When I went to school boy, life was tough
I went and poured Pimms on a prefect once
I used the whole pitcher cos he said his dad was richer
And I know that ain’t true
I toddled off to London after school (LAAAHN-DAHN!)
People were mean and their comments were cruel
I needed credibility, I racked my brains
And then I started singing like Michael Caine
It was obvious that I was taking the piss
But no one cottoned on, didn’t spot anything amiss
So my accent I continued to conceal
Two months later got a record deal

CHORUS

PONCEY POETRY BRIDGE (spoken by John Betjeman):
There once was a slut from Peru
Who filled her vagina with glue
She said with a grin
If you’ll pay to get in
You’ll pay to get out again too.

VERSE 3 (rapped)
On my MySpace now I’ve got ten thousand mates
It’s frequented more often than Lily’s or Kate’s
Not to mention that the number of reported rapes
In town are down, though I won’t take credit
Forget it, but rather convenient
Don’t you think, just as my album sales
In Wales have outsold U2’s and Jimmy Nail’s
My music’s real like solid steel
Merging of genres has widespread appeal
Cockney slang twinned with a trenchtown skank
Even though my tunes are a pile of Barclays Bank™

CHORUS x 15