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RICHARD LITTLEJOHN: I can't get no vaccination…
RICHARD LITTLEJOHN: I can’t get no vaccination…
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They called it the biggest gathering of musical talent since Live Aid, although to be honest I hadn’t heard of half the acts involved.
Charlie Puth, anybody? Little Mix? Leigh-Anne? Cheesy? Sounds like the sort of savoury cracker you put out with a dip before your virtual dinner party on Zoom — which until recently I always thought was a 1982 hit by Fat Larry’s Band.
No Fat Larry on Sunday night, sadly, but some titans of the rock world did turn up for the Welcome To The World coronavirus singalong. They included Elephant John (© Eric Morecambe), the Rolling Stones, Paul McCartney and Tom Jones, which wasn’t unusual.
Jan Moir did the show justice in her own brilliant, inimitable way in yesterday’s Mail.
But I couldn’t help thinking the event would have been even better if the stars had gone the extra mile and reworked some of their greatest hits for the coronavirus crisis.
So with apologies to Mick’n’Keef, Macca, Elton and the great Barry Mason and Les Reed, who wrote Delilah, here’s what it could have sounded like.
Laydees and gennulmen, would you please welcome to the COVAID stage, the Strolling Bones. As always, it helps if you sing along . . .
Laydees and gennulmen, would you please welcome to the COVAID stage, the Strolling Bones. As always, it helps if you sing along . . .
(To the tune of Satisfaction)
I can’t get no
Vaccination.
All I hear is
Procrastination
Will I die? Will I die?
Will I die? Will I die?
I can’t get no
I can’t get no…
When I’m drivin’ in my car,
And a man comes on the radio
Says I shouldn’t drive too far
And spouts some useless information
About the need for isolation
I can’t get no
No no, no
P.P.E.
That’s what I need…
I can’t get no
Vaccination
I can’t get no
Vaccination.
Will I die? Will I die?
Will I die? Will I die?
I can’t get no
I can’t get no
When I’m watching my MP
And he has the nerve to tell me
About the lack of P.P.E.
But he can’t be a man
’Cos he isn’t wearing
A cheap paper mask like me
I can’t get no
No Fat Larry on Sunday night, sadly, but some titans of the rock world did turn up for the Welcome To The World coronavirus singalong
No, no, no
Hey, hey, hey
No gloves today…
I can’t get no
Medication
No more hand gel for
Sanitation
Will I die? Will I die?
Will I die? Will I die?
I can’t get no
I can’t get no
When I’m scouring the world wide web
And I’m buying this
And I’m buying that
And I’m trying to find
Some Twirls
They tell me
Baby better come back
Maybe next week
’Cos we’ve flogged all our bog rolls
To Paddy the Greek…
I can’t get no
No, no, no
Hey, hey, hey
No milk today.
I can’t get no
I can’t get no
Vaccination
No vaccination
No vaccination
No vaccination …
(Get Off Of My Cloud)
I live in an overcrowded
Flat on the 99th floor
So I head downstairs to the local park
Just to get the hell out of my door
Then along comes a Plod
Who’s all dressed up
In a fancy hi-viz vest
He says: Move along now, son
Or I’m putting you under arrest.
He says: Hey, Hey!
You, You!
Get offa that grass!
Hey, Hey!
They called it the biggest gathering of musical talent since Live Aid, although to be honest I hadn’t heard of half the acts involved. David Bowie is pictured singing at the Live Aid concert at Wembley Stadium in London in 1985
You, You!
Get offa that grass . . !
You can’t sunbathe here,
So move your ass . . .
(Step forward Tom Jones, to the tune of Delilah)
I saw the flashing blue light
As it shone through my window
Wooh, wooh, wooh, wooh,
Wooh, wooh . . .
I heard the ambulance driver
Stamp on the brakes
Wooh, wooh, wooh, wooh,
Wooh, wooh . . .
She’d started sneezing
Wooh, wooh, wooh, wooh,
Wooh, wooh . . .
So I dialled three nines just as soon
As she got the shakes . . .
My, my, my Corona
Diddle, diddle, diddle,
Diddle dum . . .
Why, why, why Corona?
Diddle, diddle, diddle,
Diddle dum . . .
I could see
The woman was going to sneeze
Into her elbow
And she’d forgotten to roll up her sleeves.
At break of day as they drove her away
She was coughing
Cough, cough, cough, cough,
Cough, cough . . .
I closed the windows and then I bolted the door
Clunk, click, clunk, click,
Clunk, click . . .
I went into lockdown
Clunk, click, clunk, click,
Clunk, click . . .
Poured myself a large VAT
And then poured one more . . .
My, my, my Corona
Diddle, diddle, diddle,
Diddle dum . . .
Why, why, why Corona?
Diddle, diddle, diddle,
Diddle dum . . .
Fortunately,
She just had an allergy,
It wasn’t Corona, she was just allergic to me . . .
It wasn’t Corona, she was just allergic to ME!!!
(Close your eyes and it could be Paul McCartney)
In Penny Lane, there is a barber’s with the shutters down,
And the draper has a sign that says he’s closed,
All the people that used to come and go
Have to stay at home . . .
On the corner there’s a banker with a mobile phone
And a hardware shop that’s close to going broke
But the banker won’t give them a loan
Funny bloke, what a joke.
Penny Lane is in retreat and in despair
Dying in the quiet suburban air
Meanwhile, Asda flourishes . . .
Near Penny Lane, there is an out-of-town superstore
Selling bulbs and rhododendrons by the score
But the garden centre can’t open its doors
Any more, it’s the law . . .
So with apologies to Mick’n’Keef, Macca, Elton and the great Barry Mason and Les Reed, who wrote Delilah, here’s what it could have sounded like
Penny Lane is in retreat and in despair
The barber has been banned from cutting hair
Meanwhile, Amazon knocks out clippers . . .
There’s a roadblock in the middle of the roundabout
Cars are stopping for a copper dressed in black
And the copper wears a baseball hat
What a prat, what a prat . . .
In Penny Lane, the boozer doesn’t have a single customer
The landlord’s livelihood is going down the drain
But the supermarkets can sell the full range
Of grape and grain, very strange . . .
Penny Lane is in retreat and in despair
Dying in the quiet suburban air
And meanwhile, back in . . .
Penny Lane is in retreat and in despair
Dying in the quiet suburban air
Penny Lane . . .
(And finally, it’s the Rocketman himself, Elton John)
And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time,
This lockdown gets me down . . .
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