Get all 11 Superintendent Idle Tiger releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Troubled Makers, 1-offs, The Human Heart Is Not All There, A Minor Writer, Sweeping Tendrils, Karl Marx Swimwear Line, Liverman, The Case for Planning your own Funeral, and 3 more.
1. |
The Ambient Postman
04:17
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The Ambient Postman
A spider spun a thread across your letterbox last night,
It's damaged by a little breath of air.
I am the ambient postman I am.
I (not breakfast-breaker or giver) deliver the letters with little delivery,
Patiently spraying the parcels around,
Dispensing the mail with barely a sound,
Performing my round,
Each morning I spray it like perfume all over the town.
Something that you ordered from Cacananadada
Birthday cards or death threats, breaths of air.
I am the ambient postman I am,
just as you're eating your toast, language,
never my work to see you're awake,
or remind you that you're alive - what matter?
I mutter a letter through this door or that,
This door is a colour that someone selected,
Painted, shrugged and approved, and thought
no more about this door I'm before.
A spider spun a thread across your letterbox last night
The thread is worried by a little breath of air
You don't even know you're receiving your mail
But you are.
I shiver shadow shoeless tiptoe step round the periphery
There's a silence at the door alright when I make my delivery.
Steam from a kettle, the signal, the ether
The mail arriving each day, like the weather -
It no longer matters (as I see it) whether
This man gets his neighbour's bill, his neighbour gets her neighbour's letter.
I'd still deliver your letter reliably
Even if you died last night.
I hope you're alright.
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2. |
Spivs Like Frank Sinatra
03:34
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[1: Spivs Like Frank Sinatra.]
Now look here:
I went into the army when I was sixteen
But the war cheesed me off if you know what I mean
So I deserted, civilian-shirted -
With no right to a ration book I grew lean - and thoughtful.
And I see the chaps…
Shrunk in their de-mob suits, well why
Did they charge about killing and watching blokes die
While I go on spivving, making my living
Wearing my red kipper tie - and being resourceful.
I like Frank Sinatra, he reminds me of sex.
I dislike death and ill-health, it reminds me of tax.
Sat in my office with crumbs round my orifice
And a paperchain of bogus cheques - I'm awful!
[2: Expense Accounts Offer Evidence Of Spivvery In High Places.]
Expense accounts offer evidence of spivvery in high places.
Them bumptious stockbroker blokes with their smokes - it's all over their faces.
We all depend for our little pleasures on what's passed under the table.
If you don't believe me clock the spivvery of your infant in his cradle.
The tenners are trousered
The trousers are changed
The change is just coppers
The coppers' conclusions are tenuous and strange
The tenners are trousered
The trousers are changed
The change is just coppers
The coppers' conclusions are genuinely strange.
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3. |
Washout
01:35
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It was the early afternoon and it was an ordinary public house. No-one had names like Carson or Emmett or Gene. There was someone called Gerald in the corner. He was thinking up questions for the quiz. Some younger people were talking about their families or their businesses. A few of us were drinking whiskey but mostly the ladies were having a glass of dry white wine, and a boy was carrying plates of miniature hamburgers and fish fingers to feed the talkative toddlers in the family room at the back.
This being the scenario, it was all very annoying when that cowboy that you sent us trampled in with his smelly boots and his irritating sixguns, his saliva and his whisper, his insistence on slamming every door, his self-pity. He looked very offensive and vandalized the bandit machine. The horse that he came on was very stupid and kicked a large hole in the conservatory door.
Needless to say, even if he does return to where he came from, he will not be recognizable to those who knew him. Any more of his kind will not be welcome.
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4. |
When You Were Born
02:32
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No-one was laughing
When you acted the clown
At your first birthday party.
When you were five
You sashayed around
The room in your undies
On boxing day night.
Your male relatives
In the front room
Were making remarks about you.
Your exam result left us all disappointed
No-one was laughing at all.
No-one liked the pictures of you when you were born.
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