Quote:
Originally Posted by LazyScot
Hang on. Weren't you supposed to be writing the ministeral Anthem for the Return of the Royal Zee?
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Okay, after discovering that Zany Carters are just as effective by plunging the twirly straw straight up your left nostril and directly into your brain and then fitting your mouth and nose inside the rim of the glass and blowing hard, and
OMG!!!FEELTHERUSHANDLOOKATALLTHEPRETTYCOLOURS!!! I have finally completed the new anthem for the Ministry, well within the due date of the return of Queen Zee.
It has the full and complete approval of the Church Of Gibbonacy, and personal blessing has been provided by the High Gibbonate (which means any criticism will be given great inquisition by the Clan Of Adrian - that's just a little warning, because no-one expects the clannish inquisition).
Some musical guidance, for you, the tone-deaf apparatchik...
The anthem's inspiration is that of two Bertrand's - one of plastic, and one of the Queen's acquaintance - and is sung to the tune and metrical lyricism of that great hymn,
Ça plane pour moi. The gods have informed the High Gibbonate that during the transmission of their musical message, sent directly to the High Gibbonate's pituitary gland, it unfortunately became detoured within popular perceptions' four basic dimensions, attracted to the genius of Plastic Bertrand like the billion year old light of a quaser being warped around an intervening galactic supercluster, and thus the imprint is permanent. Natural English meter is required to be forced to conform to natural French meter. You don't like that, speak to Adrian.
If you are going to hear the Music of the Great Pinwheel, it is important that we dance before our queen with all our might; that we leap and dance before her blessed Spinningness. So, taking our queue from the Plastic one, we must leap and dance and generally fling ourselves about like giraffes on acid.
So, to the tune...firstly, here is the Holy Detour from which you must totally and completely and utterly fill yourself with the tune and lyrical beat:
Now, his lyrics obviously make no sense whatsoever (though I'm sure they would have if the sacred transmission hadn't passed through him while he was very, very,
very drunk), but the Holy Gibbonate's pituitary gland has exuded the following words into his forebrain, and they easily replace those of Bertrand, while making far more sense. Are you ready? No? Speak to Adrian then, because here they are...
Queen Zee's Ministerial Anthem (by order of the High Gibbonate)
Wham! Bam! MotheRland!
Sitting in a bubble bath
while cats are quaffing Zany Carters,
but for me, well I just and rust and lust
wait in the gutter til I'm dust
then I had a dream
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
in one colour
Allez hop! After dark
my Jet-girl made up of quarks
with tofu skin and verdigris lycra
defenestrates from her boudoir
suckling on my Paris Brest and
espresso
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
Why so? Because Jet-girl says so
Spin, Zelda, spin! Pinwheel and spin!
Spin, Zelda spin spin spin spin spin
Pinwheel and Spin
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
Spin, Zelda, Spin!
Allez hop! In her wake, feel the quake!
Exploding jewel!
Thrown to the stones I solo-duel
untwist, swing fist, chew grist, I'm pissed.
"Tu es la reine du bain moussant",
If you got it you can flaunt.
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
"Elle est la reine du bain moussant"
Spin, Zelda, spin! Pinwheel and spin!
Spin, Zelda spin spin spin spin spin
Pinwheel and Spin
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
Spin, Zelda, Spin!
Allez hop! Frak you, frak me
but not the fairy.
Quatorze juillet!
We crushed the proles and formed the Ministry
You dance with angels on a pin
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
Spin, Zelda, spin!
Allez hop! Escapee, gravity,
in the space between the branes she sees that the
blue one, the one next to the fish,
it drank from the cup
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
Now let's nude-up!
Spin, Zelda, spin! Pinwheel and spin!
Spin, Zelda spin spin spin spin spin
Pinwheel and Spin
Oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
Spin, Zelda, Spin!
Spin, Zelda, spin! Pinwheel and spin!
Spin, Zelda spin spin spin spin spin [fade...]
Trust me on this - Our Queen Zee is gonna love it!
Yours hymnally,
The High Gibbonate