The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

More fun with circles on a gloomy evening. Today's football was ultimately a bit deflating, with another good solid Albion performance rewarded with a 2-1 defeat at Stamford Bridge (despite having led 1-0 for the better part of an hour). Now I have to spend the next few hours getting work done, and it feels like there's little respite.

Oh well. If there's anything guaranteed to pick me up, as always, it's those Wirral-based wordsmiths Half Man Half Biscuit, who have a new album due out very soon. Quite simply, nobody does misery as cheerfully as they do.


She stayed with me until
She moved to Notting Hill
She said it was the place she needs to be
Where the cocaine is Fair Trade
And frequently displayed
Is the Buena Vista Social Club CD

I thought she'd be back in three weeks
And we'd go wandering the Peaks
Sojourn in my Uncle Joe's ashram
For when you're in Matlock Bath
You don't need Sylvia Plath
Not while they've got Mrs Gibson's jam

Alas, I'm brooding alone by the runnel
While she's in Capri with her swain
And the light at the end of the tunnel
Is the light of an oncoming train

Well we both grew up in Eyam
And strange as it may seem
Neither of us thought we'd ever leave
But the beak in Leek is weak
And she's moved in, so to speak
With featureless TV producer Steve

And now it's all Eva Cassidy
And aphids in Picardy
And so I can only ascertain
That the light at the end of the tunnel
Is the light of an oncoming train

No frills! Handy for the hills! That's the way you spell New Mills!

Brooding alone by the runnel
While she's in Capri with her swain
And the light at the end of the tunnel
Is the light of an oncoming train
Is the light of an oncoming train