Phil Glanville Dot Com

Wishful Drinking

(music & lyrics Phil)

You see a bird across the room
And wonder if you’re dreaming
She’s fucking hot, she might be up
For give your life new meaning

Next morning when you sober up
The view ain’t quite so stunning
Her cross eyed, buck toothed, spotty face is
Enough to send you running

We’ve all been there, we’ve all done that
What the fuck we were thinking
We realise that we’ve all been
Victims of wishful drinking

You’re feeling down, you’re feeling out
You think your ship is sinking
But carry on, you’re bound pick up
If you go wishful drinking

Your office mates go out downtown
You could be up for that
But they’re all poofs who drink too slow
And you’re a drunken twat

You get more pissed than anyone
You’re belching and you’re farting
They drag you to a club and make you
Dance to Ricky Martin

You know the purpose of mankind
The meaning of life is clear
Why universes come and go
And why we all are here

You must announce this to the world
You think you’re so profound
But it’s too hard to move from
Lying face down on the ground

My Best Friend’s Girlfriend

(music Phil and Jim; lyrics Phil)

My mate’s seeing this bird who’s a right fucking bitch
She must be good in bed or her parents must be rich
Cos I can’t see what he sees in this stuck up tart
Me and her couldn’t be further apart

She teaches modern dance
She talks about romance
She’s never gotten drunk
She don’t like the taste of spunk

She likes performance art
She’s never done a fart
She minds her Ps and Qs
She don’t go out on the booze

She’s going to drive me round the fucking bend
I need to find some way to rescue my friend

My best friend’s girlfriend is a whore
We’ve established no rapport
She’s miserable as hell
And she hates me as well

She don’t let him out on the beer
Her demeanour is austere
She’s such a fucking slag
I think she needs a shag

I went to my mate and I told him my thoughts
How that bitch and her atttitude made me distraught
To say he were angry would understate things
He’d just offered her an engagement ring

I don’t know what to say
I thought we’d be OK
I thought he’d hear my words
And that he would dump the bird

Instead the bitch has won
Cos he’s no longer fun
He said “truth is phil you’re
being a little immature”

I’m sorry to say that I’ve upset a mate
But in fairness its her and not me you should hate

Calling The Lads

(music & lyrics Phil)

Been to some cities round the world, and they all look the same
Folks pass by you in the street and no-one knows your name
But I’ve found a place I rather like where I intend to stay
But you’re too fucking miserable to come on holiday

So I’m calling to the lads
To get yerselves in gear
Pack yer travel bags
Get yer arses over here

The pubs stay open past eleven, for stayin’ out drinking late
Now the pizza’s not as good, but then the fish and chips is great
Beer and sex and chips and gravy and dressing and poutine
It’s more than what the Macc Lads ate, but here it’s just routine

And yes there’s curry and yes there’s birds
Though the harbour sometimes smells of turds
And though the weather’s sometimes shite
At least the water pressure’s right

You’ve all got lots of cash to spare, and income to dispose
Still you’re all stuck up in London with black bogeys up yer nose
Spend half an hour on the Tube to go to a shit pub
The time could be spent better with a case of Jockey Club

All Day Breakfast

(music & lyrics Phil and Keith)

Went out with me mates on an all night drinking binge
It must have been a blast because I can’t recall a thing
Drank from dusk till dawn they had a lock-in at the pub
Now I’m staggering up Duckworth cos I need to get some grub

I need
bacon and egg
a slice of fried bread
two sausage at least
All day breakfast

Some chips and some beans
a mug of weak tea
black pudding and grease
All day breakfast

Tomato that’s fried
to put to one side
it shouldn’t be tried
All day breakfast

A slice of fried ham
some toast and some jam
served by a man
All day breakfast

The Classic Café is painted much too bright
Left my shades downtown on the bar at the Duke last night
And the food tastes like shit and the waitresses are rude
And Nellie’s is a boozer, I don’t want to eat pub food

The sausages are cold and the tea is too weak
The traditional way to build an Englishman’s physique

The Bagel Café got rebuilt with vinyl sides
And the Heritage is out because I respect my insides
I admit that sometimes I pine for an English caff
Where you need a Greek translator to understand the staff

Getting Old

(music & lyrics Phil)

I don’t know what’s happening to the size of my waist
I think it must be thinking that there’s some kind of race
With my age
And it wants to stay ahead

I don’t remember feeling this tired before
I used to stay awake until I fell on the floor
It was great
Now I’d rather just go to bed

I’m getting old
And all the cliches I’ve been told are beginning to show
And if life begins at forty, I’ve a decade to go

I don’t remember slipping this far into debt
I’ve got a job and I’ve got more cash than ever and yet
I am broke
I think it’s called the money pit

And thinking back on all the girlfriends I had
Now I’ve drinking mates the same age as their dads
They’re good blokes
And their daughters are looking fit

And I’m resigned that I’ll never be a movie star
And I’ll never be very good at playing guitar
But I’m happy
I feel at ease

Perhaps I’m dwelling too much on the past, and instead
I should be thinking of the good things that lie ahead
Like dirty nappies
And Alzheimer’s disease

Modern Times

(music & lyrics Phil)

She’s that type of girl, you want to take her home
But it’s not to meet your mother, want to get her alone
She’s got massive melons and a pretty face
And a set of legs that start at ‘ground and reach to her waist
But you’d like to know if it’s real or not
Did she go for plastic surgery and pay for the lot
And you’d like to know if this has always been
Or did she look like Marty Feldman when she was sixteen

These are the things that go through your mind
They’re the problems that we live with in these modern times
Was life much simpler in the ancient world?
Well at least you knew that boys were boys and girls were girls
And these are the problems being a man today
Where women want both chivalry and equal pay
Our ancestors had a sense of right and wrong
Before the female orgasm came along

There’s this girl I’m chatting up who seems pretty nice
But she drinks in Club Etomik so I have to think twice
And though I’m happy to sit with her and talk for a while
I don’t want to be arrested as a paedophile
And sure enough she says she likes Britney Spears
Though she’s dressed in clothes and makeup far beyond her years
And it occurs to me as I head for the door
That she’s probably slept with more blokes than a Bangkok whore

Now I’m out downtown with some friends who are gay
And the DJ plays the Village People’s YMCA
And this bird gets up, insists that she likes the song
And she drags me to the dancefloor but there’s something wrong
And I spot the problem as we get up to dance
Cos there’s stubble on her chin and there’s a bulge in her pants
And I think to myself as I head home alone
That I’ve only got myself to blame for going to The Zone

Womens lib has left men left behind
That’s a problem that we live with in these modern times
Global warming threatens all mankind
That’s a problem that we live with in these modern times
QWERTY keyboards are badly designed
That’s a problem that we live with in these modern times
Wanked so much I’ve made myself half blind
That’s a problem that we live with in these modern times

Beer

(music & lyrics Phil)

All those times I’ve ever doubted
All those times I’ve ever strayed
All the lies I’ve ever spoken
All the parts I’ve ever played

All the time I’ve felt depressed and down
I should not have felt morose
Because beer helped me
Just when I needed it most

All those beers I’ve ever tasted
All the pints that I’ve caressed
All those times that I’ve got wasted
All the girls that I’ve impressed

All those times I’ve ever pulled a bird
And all the times that I’ve come close
It’s cos beer helped me
Just when I needed it most

So go ahead and let beer help you
And I’ll see you down the pub
We’ll raise a glass together
And toast the god of Jockey Club

All the cash I’ve pissed away
And all the vomit I’ve produced
Cos the room would spin a funny way
Or cos I’d tactically induced

Though I’m a pauper with a beer gut
I have the right to stand and boast
That beer helped me
Just when I needed it most

My Selfish Ways

(music Phil, Dana and Paul; lyrics Phil)

Was it that I left my socks on when I went to bed
Or wouldn’t talk upon the phone
Was it that I always wanted her to give me head
Or stayed in getting drunk at home

And so my selfish ways have got the better of me
I’m left alone with my misogyny
A relationship’s ended, should I sit and mourn
Or should I grab a beer and look at porn?

Was it that my friends thought that she should be seen not heard
And preferably not seen with me
Was it that she caught me sleeping with another bird
Because she don’t fulfill my needs

She wasn’t that special, she weren’t that great
There were things she’d do that I would fuckin hate
But there’s one thing that I’m gonna miss
Her cunt felt nicer than my fist

And so I’m left alone with my rage and hate
Rapidly descending to my basest state
I’d be willing to deal with my issues
If I could only get past the damp tissues

You’re A Cunt

(music & lyrics Phil)

You’re a cunt, you’re a total twat
You look and act like a fucking pratt
You’ve got that loser look down pat
Bob Marley tshirt and a rasta hat

You’re a cunt
You look like a fanny seen from the front
I could be subtle but I’ll be blunt
You’re a cunt

You’re a cunt, you’re a fucking tool
You think swearing in songs is cool
Your band is just a bunch of fools
Who probably got picked on at school

You’d like to think you’re Sonic Youth
You can’t be further from the truth
You haven’t got a fucking clue
So let Phil show you what to do

We Are Crusaders

(music & lyrics Phil)

Walking down the high street and you see again
Another boozer turned into a fucking chain
They’re smoke free, family friendly and the beer’s shite
You might as well as stay at home on Friday night

We seem to be a dying breed in this land
But we’ve got to raise the troops to make a final stand
We’re crusaders for the right to drink a decent ale
The fate of England’s in our hands, we must prevail

It’s alcopops and spritzers mixed with German beer
Ben Sherman shirt and waxed hair and a pierced ear
We seem to be fighting ‘gainst a rising tide
And the turning point came the day Dogbolter died

It’s easy ‘blame on Europe but the truth is this
Now the English like their beer to taste like piss
No wonder that the country’s in a fucking state
You’ve forgotten it was bitter what made England great