A complete listing of the opening to every Half Man Half Biscuit song up to 2010. Discuss your favourites here.
13 Eurogoths…
A dirty rounder, a no-good fraud…
A doyen of topiary once told me…
A fairly attractive girl walks past a building site…
A million housewives every day, pick up a can of beans and say…
A mistake has been made, it’s a fact they can’t hide…
All tickets sold, I head for the wardrobe…
And at the post fest lig I saw ten thousand people maybe more…
And in the scout hut debate still rages on…
Anything under five percent I don’t want to drink it…
Arthur Askey and Dougie-Wougie Bader went down to the Animal Farm…
As I camped out one evening to take the midnight air…
Assorted nautical jigsaws…
Back-to-back Cadfael, Ross Kemp on Watership Down
Beware of the man who only shows you the best bits…
Bleak cheap interview, pool cue fancy pants…
Bubble perm, ever since your bubble perm…
Can you hear the bells-a-ringing, Alice van der Meer?
Certain things have always been and ever more shall be…
Checkmate! Dennis Bell of Torquay…
Come see the townsfolk keenly gathered round the gibbet…
Darts in soap operas, oh, so wrong, oh so wrong…
“Demon fiend, leave your tomb, seek out the Virgin womb”
Didn’t see the summer sun…
Dragging my guitar round maternity ward…
Dream therapists: is your lucky number seven by any chance?…
Ethereal requiem mausoleum…
Everybody’s doing the Len Ganley Stance…
Found a nice little cove where nobody else goes…
Fuck…
Get on my funbus, I’ll take you all for a ride…
Girlfriend’s said that she no longer likes me…
Give me Love, give me Can, give me Meatloaf…
Good Morning, Ma’am, I’ve come to read your gas meter…
Half past four? Half past four? You said half past ten to us…
Henry Rollins! Henry Rollins! You’re hard! You’re hard!…
Her mother had never really wanted us to go in the first place…
Here comes The Black Horse, There goes The Brown Cow…
Here she lies in her fleecy gown…
He’s sitting on a so-called Soccer Sofa
Hey Joyce, Rock and Roll never gave you a voice…
Hey Louis! Wonderful world, terrible song…
Hey there moody chops, you’ve gone and got national acclaim…
I can recall the day quite clearly: a Friday, in July….
I could be tugging on the beard of science, like a cheeky schoolboy…
I could have put my head in a bucket full of porridge…
I do nothing at all and let my legs go fizzy…
I dream of occasional fanzine mentions…
I fancy I’ll open a stationer’s…
I feel like a beggar accepting alms, then being pelted with figs…
I fell asleep amongst the boulders strewn between Glyder Fach and Glyder Fawr…
I got three from each section on the fixed odds coupon…
I have no Shire Horse to pull my narrowboat…
I know the drivers by their first names…
I lost my Barbour in Twickenham car park…
I saw posters all around town
I shout all my obscenities from steeples…
I stick me big nose in, when I go out…
I walk caverns and abysmals that I hope you never dream of…
I was just sitting there eating a salmonella sandwich…
I was, yes I was descending the Stiperstones
I went to a wedding, though only the night time…
I woke up about eleven with hair like Brian May…
I’d like to flush the demons from out of her mind…
If I had agoraphobia…
I’m a hard-jackin’ sound-scaping jump-uppin’ left-of-centre freakbeat affair…
I’m a vendor of quack nostrums born in a Kansas shack…
I’m gonna grab myself an industry insider mask…
I’m sitting in my Ladbroke Grove, Waiting for the NME…
I’m the man that you need on the day that it rains…
In front of bar staff the bands still play…
In my wretched garret, where I’ll die of starvation…
In pulpits, in pulpits, they can preach naked from the waist downwards…
In the entrancing dell we laughed and we sometimes fell…
In the kingdom of the blind, it’s said the one-eyed man is king…
In the room with the sloping roof, in your director’s chair…
In the town where I was born…
In this sumptuous hacienda…
Indicate then you stupid bastard!…
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song…
It’s the year 2163, Chester Barnes is risen from the dead…
I’ve been strolling down my favourite lane…
I’ve been up to no good, I’ve been dissed in the ‘hood, I’ve been locked in the Rock City, Notts…
I’ve just finished decorating…
Jesus Christ come on down!…
Keeper you’ve just made a decent save…
Some people don’t know how to walk on the pavement these days
Lord I’ve tried the best I can, I’ve asked everybody in Kazakhstan…
M-A-U-G-E-R: Ivan Mauger robbed my car…
May morning, hanging round a trapdoor…
Me and my motor neurone, we just want to be on our own…
Mention the Lord Of the Rings just once more…
My girlfriend looks like Peggy Mount…
My hands are stained with thistle milk…
My life is comfortable, but I don’t want that image for my band…
My Uncle Charlie is a cynical man…
Ner ner-ner-ner ner-ner-ner ner…
Now here comes a story that’s never been told…
Now how did I guess, you were going to express…
Number one in Britain and successful in the States…
Oh darling sugar honey…
Oh I was walking round my local store…
Oh Mr. Leary, I feel so dreary…
Oh say I’m not the only one to fill with trepidation…
Oh, gangway! I’m coming through! Ooh…
On the bleakest day autumn could muster
One way system – smooth and commendable…
Our Ted, it has to be said produces proof beyond us…
Outside Goldsmith’s coughing up blood…
Peter’s on his skateboard, Ryan’s on his bike…
Please don’t tell me what you think while I tell you about…
Precious McKenzie, boy I remember you well…
Psst Sssh… Psst Sssh… Psst Sssh… Sssh…
Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble, Grubb…
Pulling the ice axe from my leg, I staggered on…
Quick, run, hide, here comes Dave Stewart…
Re: Our gig at Deptford Abyss; Who the hell does Jeff Dreadnought think he is?…
Said the public sector leader at the pre-launch breakfast briefing…
Same old Hampstead, Ken Hom Wok Set…
Second greatest time I had, was when they asked me and my Dad to organize a festival…
She stayed with me until she moved to Notting Hill…
Sleet may keep the meek indoors…
So banish me to the furnace…
So I’m lost in the fog, but I feel like a hundred thousand pounds…
So I’m walking down the road, and heading towards me is somebody I know…
So much for your journey of self-discovery…
St Vitus came to my town and visited the cemetery…
Strawbs.. Huh, what do you know boy?…
Tedious people, tiresome town…
Telephone call telling me my old friend Graham had died…
The A is for my authority, which many players seem to question…
The car that’s parked on a pavement narked pedestrians, and children with chalk…
The difference between us and all the other bands is that we’re different…
The singer out of Slipknot went to Rome to see the Pope…
There is surely nothing worse than washing sieves…
There was one in the gang who had Scalextric…
There’s a girl I’m told who rolls her eyes at the Gok Wan acolytes
There’s a girl leaving town for the sunshine
There’s one last favour I ask of you…
They came for the palmists, but I wasn’t a palmist so I did nothing…
They came from the conference facility…
They come from underneath the stairs…
They looked at my postcode…
They’ve got the whole world in their house…
Today I saw her brother, who said she’s with another…
Tower block, you couldn’t score in a tower block…
Trying to iron out your problems without Jesus…
Unemployment’s rising in the Chigley end of town…
Up in the trees down on the ground…
Vespers done, I glide out…
Wait for me in sunny orchards, back of beyond…
Watch out world, I’m a man at ease…
We sat and decided as the seasons collided…
Well I heard a lovely rumour that Bette Midler had a tumour…
Well I put the wrong things in the wrong bin again
Well I’m not really worried about this…
Well my name it is Dai Young, I’m the King of Welsh Goth…
Well they say she’s too hot, yeah but guess what?…
Well you say you only watch documentaries…
Well, I just cycled in to the pine floored living room…
Well, I told her that I thought life’s too short…
Well, it must have been about half past two in the morning…
We’re hardly the fruit from a well-tended banana tree…
We’re into the final of The Battle Of The Bands…
We’re just receiving reports of an incident at a farm in Sussex…
We’ve got Kramer coming over to produce us…
We’ve just been performing a guerrilla gig…
What did God give us, Neil?…
When I had my loft converted back into a loft…
When I need you, you’re only ever twenty-eight away
When I wade across the Jordan I’ll be shining…
Woke up this morning, found myself in bed…
World, you’re going too fast, you must slow down…
You may have to rescue me from limestone quarries frequently…
You promised that one day you’d be my wife…
You said you’d found me helpless on the A47…
Update (May 2020): here are the last lines…
A baguette dilemma
Ah well you’ve got a shit arm, and that’s a bad tattoo
Alex Haley was adopted, that’s what’s called a disappointment
Along the Edgware Road
Along with cars that have pet names
And a West Country smile that says “I’ll give you Kick Out The Jams”
And after a while, he’ll die of thirst
And Dylan can’t sue
And he had them all again
And his garage in constant use
And I don’t know anyone who puts peaches on their cornflakes either
And I shot a man in Tesco, just to watch him die
And I want the whole world to know
And I wonder but I doubt if they will ever bring back the Watney Cup
And I’ll generalise ya
And in my dreams I take a beautiful girl
And let me feed the birds for evermore
And me I’m on the lookout for a proper transformer …errr
And no I haven’t got anything better to do
And pretend that I am Kendo Nagasaki
And say: “It’s not just for Petrolheads…”
And shouted to his mum “Fred Titmus!”
And the last bus to your heart
And the only thing I can say is: “Oh Kip Keino”
And the wind cries Joyce
And then the band began to play
And you can really taste the hops!
As I lay prostrate on the floor
As told to a boil on the cab driver’s neck
As told to a boil on the cab driver’s neck again
As you put another Roger Dean poster on the wall
At the Gok Wan acolytes
Away from the…
B for Broadstairs
B-O-G-U-S official
Ba ba ba, ba da ba ba da da da, la la la la la
Bad Losers
Bad review
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…
Big Jesus soulmates gas mask
Blue Badge Abuser
Bob Wilson – anchorman
Bottleneck at Capel Curig
But I’m more like Ken Barlow
But nobody loves me anymore
Bye-bye, boom bang, say yin, say yang
Careful with that spliff Eugene it causes condensation
Cokeheads cokeheads cokeheads
Come be my queen of quick wit
Cos there’s gonna be a riot down in Trumpton tonight
Cresta!
Cue drumroll, it’s National Shite Day
Deep House Victims minibus appeal
Descending the Stiperstones
Does your heroin lose its glamour on the washboard overnight?
Don’t wear stripey kecks babe, I don’t wear stripey kecks
Doreen, Doreen
Double wrap, other crap, have it back, river cruise, dinner queues, Bladder News, inner tubes
Down by one thirty-five
Drunk in the tented village
Duh-duh duh-duh duh-duh-duh
Even though I married Trevor
Every time a bell rings
Everybody’s doing the Len Ganley Stance
Floating in the Dead Sea
For you
Frampton Comes Alive!
Gary took a dive from the second floor
Geraldine, oh Geraldine
Girl, he should spend a week being a Nordic ski widow
Go into town
Go on, ask me what we do next. Just attribute it to King Alfred and go like this…
God gave us – life
Gonna be with Jesus
Gonna give you alehouse futsal
Got ten out of ten in Jockey Slut
Gubba look-a-likes…
Hallelujah
Has made a prick out of you
He’s got a theremin
He’s on the ‘roids
His head was found on the driving range and his body has never been found
Hosanna, the jazz snobs are all going home
I don’t have the courage to express
I hate Nerys Hughes
I left my heart in Papworth General
I love you because you look like Jim Reeves
I may as well be in Ely or St Ives…
I want to borrow your golf clubs.
I want to jump but it’s such a view
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I’ll not be taken on board at this present moment in time
I’ll tell you a story that’s never been told
I’m a mongrel and I just won a dog fight
I’m depressed beyond tablets, gone beyond pills
I’m lost without an inside pocket
I’m still your number one fan, I’m your Betterware man
I’m worried now but I won’t be worried long
I’ve seen the circuit boards
If they gave the ref a gun
In a Camden boozer tonight
In relation to me getting out of bed?”
In the morning
In the mortuary
Irk the purists tonight
Is pealing throughout every town
Is the sound of my hopes being shattered
It don’t worry me none bro’
It goes something like this
It’s because it’s two-thirds anti-freeze
It’s good enough for me.
It’s just my restless legs
January the sixth. Epiphany.
Joy in Leeuwarden for sure
Julio Sings Your Favourite Ultra Sur Chants
Just up and leave…
Keep it upstairs till the bailiff’s been and I’ll make herbal tea
Keeping two chevrons apart
Kill kill kill stab murder and despatch
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
Lad rock aside
Laura Morgan cares for her feet
Layabout
Len, you’re the dog’s
Let the light from the lighthouse shine on me tonight
Little in the way of sunshine heading our way
M-E-N-L-O-V-E, let me hide myself in thee
Me and my girl – ooh paradise
Me in the belltower and blood on the quad
Midge Ure looks like a milk thief
Mileage chart
Monmore, hare’s running
Moshpits, mosh… (cough)
Murdered
My teenage bride
Next door’s NTL
Ninety-nine per cent of gargoyles look like Bob Todd
Not enough cycle paths
Not long now before lollipop men are called Darren
Oh no, my head feels like sponge
On a Saturday night instead of going to the pub
One-time visitors were now the regime
Or does it hang in the air at the Restart interview?
PRS, PRS golf weekend, I used to think that you had to attend
Ravi Shankar
Rock and roll
Satin black tour jacket
She’s still not been accounted for
Should anyone need me, I’ll be over there
Sing Aurora Borealis, über alles, on toast
Singing a song…
Smells much like you’d expect it to
Sorry, not in service any more
Sssh
Sssh…
Stick this in your Volvo (glove compartment)
Sturmey-Archer Campagnolo on my mind
Svarc rejects new Layer terms
Swerving the Checkatrade with you
Thanks to Mr Moult, wahey!
The Armoury Show’s entire back catalogue
The bastard son of Dean Friedman
The chords are augmented…
The Jesus Christ of Bloomfield Road… Stanley Mortensen!
The poor bastard driving the train
The wrong grave for 23 years
Then you know that prick’s still on the road
These be
They’re widening the motorway
Think on if you’re up against Ghent
Thy, damnation, slumbereth, not
To make them all so scared
To the cash office please
Tonight he’ll be sitting on top of Lord Hereford’s Knob
Trouble is these days you never see a dog on the pitch.
Tuesday, 2am. Bollocko.”
Turn a blind eye, sometimes it’s best to
Twat
UFO
Vreni Schneider – you’re the queen of the slopes!
Wade in the water, wade in the water, children
We all fall down
We built this village on a Trad. Arr. tune
We’ll bring you more details as they emerge…
Well there ain’t no stink
What a letdown
When the evening sun goes down
When you walk through a storm, you get wet
Where Vanburn Holder joins the local, joins a local, joins a local grindcore outfit
Who loves ya, Costermonger?
Will she ever shine her light on me?
With a submachine gun
Words that end in B-H-E-A-D
Wuuuu-ha!
Yeah that’s when you first got into the Manics
Yes I’ll be happy…
Yngwie Malmsteen…
Yodelay-ee-hoo
You…
You’re going on after Crispy Ambulance
You’re the reason why Paradise Lost
Your Evening of Swing
Your ordeal is over here
