Sunbutler - Sunbutler (2012)

This bridge is most amusing.

Or should I,
Unzip my fly...

Track 5 - Orion.

Sophie Calle!

I've met her.

Random names.

This is excellent.

But then I would say that.

Lots of Scritti Politti references.

Track 6 - Oriental Lothario.

Change of pace.

Languid synth pop.

I love Momus.

Track 7 - Never.

It's much more '80s synth-funky than I remember this.

I think the fact that he's more-or-less brought an album out every year for the last 35 years muddles things a bit.

"I'll be your funky paedophile"

Going on a bit too long now.

Referencing the film Pretty Baby.

Track 8 - Spinoza.

I walk the snigger path
When I tiptoe through the tulips of
My own grotesquely overweaning self-regard
That's right, I am well hard
And if you snuggle rumpus with Snugglebun
Then the righteous retribution of everyone but the Pilsbury snuggle rumpusing Doughboy shall be thine
That's right, no nookie tub can be angry all the time, all the way from arsewipe to dinner time
That's right, not even if some other nookie tub has had his girlfriend in a pinch
In a clinch with curlicues that wobble in a cubicle down at Warrander baths
Like the scenery in a sitcom with extremely few laughs

That's right, there are some things in this world not imagined at your business school
Derek William Donaldson, perp of Fettesgate
Have pity on his victims, the frightened, helpless policemen
Whose fate was so awful they had to remain silent
Their pants down in evidence
They all had vitiligo
Some say sly reptilians control our every wish
By application of a fishy coat of vinyl matt emulsion
To our dreams, while others point at the pitiful figure of poor Sigourney Weaver
On a small electric golfcart at Gleneagles and say it's all the proof you need
Of free will

You should be reading Spinoza instead, boss
You're better off dead, that's right, boss
If you haven't read Spinoza
You heard that right, boss
And what were you doing Wednesday night, boss
Wading through shite in hobnail boots, fool
At the slack end of the graveyard shift
Behind the old incinerator down at Warriston Crematorium, fool
When you could've been waltzing with Matilda, with Matilda instead
Now she's dead after being forced instead to operate an industrial-stength dildo
Several hours beyond the manufacturer's recommended limit
Innit, fool?

(Matilda, you killed her)

I walk the snigger path
When I tiptoe through the tulips of
My own grotesquely overweaning self-regard
That's right, I am well hard
And if you snuggle rumpus with Snugglebun
Then the righteous retribution of everyone but the Pilsbury snuggle rumpusing Doughboy shall be thine
That's right, no nookie tub can be angry all the time, all the way from arsewipe to dinner time
That's right, not even if some other nookie tub has had his girlfriend in a pinch
In a clinch with curlicues that wobble in a cubicle down at Warrander baths
Like the scenery in a sitcom with extremely few laughs

Hobnail boots, fool, the graveyard shift
(Matilda, you killed her)