You wanna have friends? You wanna fit in? You wanna dress right but don’t know where to begin You want a partner who’s perfect You want skin with no lines When you have sex you wanna orgasm at least seven times You wish you were smart You wish you were cool You wish you were happier than Michael Jackson in a primary school You wish you had a few more friends You wish you were a little more rich Here’s the fucken answer baby; Drink Pepsi Bitch… We’re sick and tired of letting you dumb fuckers choose What do you know? You’re too preoccupied with buying new shoes You think you have choice? Well that’s just a joke You couldn’t even handle choosing between Pepsi and Coke Your friends are thinner/ more popular than you Without us you wouldn’t know what to wear or what music to listen to You’re so vacuous and shallow/ you’re making me sick Get on your knees/ suck on a Pepsi like you’re sucking my dick You think without us you wouldn’t survive But it’s just sugar and water mixed with flavour number five How can we put it so you’ll understand? Jesus Christ is less recognisable than the front of our can We got a crack team of lawyers We own your fucken employers If you get thirsty you can buy a Pepsi here in the foyer We’re sick of running this race We always come second place Now it’s time to get right up in your motherfuckin face Ain’t no celebrity that money can’t buy Ain’t no end to the marketing tactics we’ll try We have no beside manner We’ll smash it home with a hammer We killed Ghandi, Martin Luther King and Princess Diana We own the blueprints of life You’ll never know the full story We built Paris Hilton in a secret laboratory We got the whole fucking world in the palm of our hand Our cock is a bottle/ we’ll make you suck on our brand You sponsor kids in Rwanda? Well, drink Pepsi, Bitch You drive a cute little Honda? Well, drink Pepsi, Bitch You own a CD by Madonna? Drink Pepsi Bitch You bought that book by Jane Fonda? Well, Drink Pepsi, Bitch You drank a Starbucks coffee ever? Drink Pepsi, Bitch You thought The Matrix was clever? Well, Drink Pepsi, Bitch You have a job? You pay taxes? You have a boyfriend who waxes? Each time your credit maxes Each time the earth spins on its axis You drink Pepsi, Bitch Drink Pepsi Bitch! You want a flat screen TV? You want a free DVD? You want a house a car/ career/ A university degree? The answer’s in the bottom of your fridge Drink it up Drink it up Drink it up Drink Pepsi Bitch!

Jesus knows I made some mistakes It started with sponge-bob square pants, then mineral water and some Streisand tapes Soon I was in over my head A KD Lang poster over my bed I was reading Blake I thought it was too late Don’t you fear cos help is on its way This is a support network full for people like you who once were gay Together we’ll watch competitive sports I know it’s full of men in tight shorts But we’ll be OK Just my hold my hand and pray Your mind is in the sewer But Jesus is the cure Take me to the water wash this man love away I wanna be an ex-gay Be an ex-gay I’m gonna get on my knees, not to suck cock this time but to pray Homosexuality is just a pair of Calvin Klein underpants away I can be an ex-gay Be an ex-gay Who was it that said that love was blind? We’ll get by, just try fucking your wife from behind You got a church and family you don’t wanna hurt them So what if the sofa don’t go with the curtains Straight men don’t mind Soon you will find You’re an ex-gay You’re an ex-gay Swap your cous-cous for hamburgers, drink beer not Rose May God strike us down with fury if we should stray Be an ex-gay Be an ex-gay Halleluiah at last I’m on the straight path One day I’ll look back at photos of me in my mardi-gras leathers and laugh Cologne, homewares and antique furniture are all in the past I’ll be butch and not fey Cos I’m an ex-gay I believe in the Lord The Lord believes in me His courage gives me strength His love is all I need This love in unconditional His faith in me is true He loves me just for who I am But not for what I do But do I believe in a Lord Who mocks my happiness Who fills my heart with love Then tells me it’s a test? This ain’t some disease here Who am I trying to please here Even if I do survive and make it out of here alive I’ll be so depressed it won’t matter anyway Where in the bible does it say That Jesus didn’t like gays? His only enemies were hypocracy and greed And I see plenty of that round here today When did hate and fear decide who goes and who stays? I over with fear Won’t stay another minute here You can brainwash us to stay with our wives Ruin not one but two people’s lives I stand before my church and God this day See me as I am An ex-ex-gay!

Burn We met at a biodynamic fair Don’t ask me what I was doing there I fell in love with her dreadlocked hair that day She was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen A vegetarian’s wet dream And centrefold of Vegan Magazine they say I was just an innocent and slightly naïve, white, suburban, teenage guy Who’d never drunk chai I was clueless- didjeridoo-less She opened up my mind; one day she took me with her buddies to an outdoor rave I didn’t know how to behave at all There was nothing both of us couldn’t go through I stopped shaving started eating tofu We made love and while I was coming All I heard was African drumming Every dream of love I had came true Fire twirlers sprang into action My girlfriend was the major attraction Rings of fire flew through the air Far too close to her clothes and her hair Faster and faster she span The flames flicking horribly near I looked on in horror I wanted to stop her She stumbled upon a Particularly difficult turn And I watched while she burned… She burned… No one could save her Her friends were too stoned to be concerned We watched while she burned… I was shocked and mortified I’d looked on as my true love died For months and months I cried out of control Her friends wouldn’t leave me alone They camped at my house and called my phone Something about them nauseated my soul These feral kids from wealthy homes were slumming it with their nouveau organic food They insisted on being nude They wore crystal deodorant and still smelt like rodents All their new-age mantras and pathetic pagan affirmations blew my fuse I mean for fuck’s sake, wear shoes And get some drumming lessons Fuck those retched soya bean eaters Pretending to read the Baghavagida What a bunch of cultural phiranas A million lifetimes short of Nirvana They were closing in and I was trapped Then voices in my head like a choir Told me, “It’s their fault she caught fire Blame those skinny environmental fascists They’re the reason your love turned to ashes” I became focused and clear The day of the funeral came I now had a purpose/ her funeral service/ would be the perverse-ist and worse-ist of funerals ever held on earth… (African drumming begins…) The sun rose over the ocean that day For a memorial service on the beach at Byron Bay African chanting and primitive dancing And more shithouse drumming than I care remembering (drum break) Louder and louder they pounded their percussion My poor brain was reeling from aural concussion Just as their rhythms crescendo’d most violent The minister appeared and the drummers fell silent All my emotions had swallowed and spent me Who were these demons sent down to torment me? I’d never rest. Yes- I swore to God solemnly I’d kill the culture that stole my love from me I felt the power of vengeance flow through me I’d destroy every hippy and feral who’d screwed me For I had a plan that I’d carried out deviously I’d soaked the beach in petroleum just two hours previously And on cure the fire twirlers came out in turn I leapt into the ocean as they lit their flares and watched while they Burned I watched them all burn Those motherfuckers burned They burned. Is this burning an eternal flame?

Thank The Lord For Call Centres See over there, in that beige swivel chair There’s a bald guy of twenty named Kevin Eats cold soup from the can/ a tattoo on his hand reads “Mum Rest In Peace 97” And sometimes for fun he says “I’ve got a gun I might bring it to work just for training” He told me his wife took her life with his knife But he’s glad cos it stopped her complaining. Jill’s 28, she is quite overweight And completely obsessed with beyonce She wears a huge ring she refers to as “bling” Given to her by her fat fiancé Each day’s spent dreading she’ll mention the wedding She talks like she’s circular breathing The staff have a hunch that she steals all their lunch From the kitchenette fridge as she’s leaving Thank the Lord for call centres Senior management’s monitoring It always too bright there, George Orwell’s worst nightmare Fight if you want but you’re not going to win It’s a mediocrity circus All of us are non-unionised workers Thanks the Lord for call centres Non compliance is sin You can fight but you’re not gonna win Michael’s the guy all staff member’s despise He’s exactly the shape of a boulder A moronic bloke whose idea of a joke Is resting his cock on your shoulder No one includes him- a sex life eludes him He’s master of social embarrassment An email he forwarded is so fucking sordid They charged him sexual harassment Susan’s devotion has earned a promotion She studied the brown-noser’s manual Each time you see the supervisor young Susan’s beside her Like some tragic whore cocker-spaniel Get in her path and she’ll rip you in half It’s no wonder that everyone hates her The staff kitty’s up to four hundred bucks For the employee who assassinates her Thank the Lord for call centres Living off food from a vending machine Plugged into the phone you’re a workaday drone No longer human, now you’re a machine Not enough will or cash for a night course The corporation’s sucking your life force Thank the Lord for call centres Everyone’s living the dream Make sure your coffee mug’s clean Some say the earth is round So you can’t see too much of the road where you’re going This corporate Merry-Go-Round Doesn’t show too many signs that it’s slowing Why am I pushing this shit up this hill to live? This job is sucking my own fucking will to live No money, no savings, no future, no dreams Who could survive this relentless routine? Where it’s traffic/ ten hour day/ traffic/ television Traffic/ ten hour day/ traffic/ television Junk food/ boredom/ advertisements/ credit cards Pay the rent/ find a girl/ marry then settle down Watch shit and read shit and take shit and eat shit Then shit it all out and WON’T SOMEBODY PLEASE JUST FUCKING SHOOT ME!!! Thank the Lord for call centres Looks like they’re here to stay Three cheers Three cheers Three cheers Hip hip… Hooray Hip hip… Hooray! Hip hip… Hooray!!!!

From China to Canada everyone thinks we’re terrific The success of our empire is keeping it all unspecific Audiences eat up our banquet of dazzling tricks But it’s harder to swallow than eating a big mac and chips You saw Saltimbanco you even sat through Allagria If it made sense to you can you tell us cos we’ve no idea The left hand is showing you magical wonders divine The right hand is stuck in your pocket and robbing you blind Yes tonight there’s no end to the bullshit that you’ll see You’ll probably beg us for animal cruelty The only thing light as the show is your wallet when you walk away Look for some meaning/ you won’t find an answer We’re more omnipresent than Starbucks and cancer The beautiful thing’s bullshit’s bullshit no matter what country you play Cirque Du Soleil! Maybe we shouldn’t have spent so much time simply wanking There’s really no time to rehearse once we’ve finished our banking It’s so pithy, so edgy, so arty, so mainstream, so now It’s like magic, like dreaming, like childhood, like nothing, like wow The music suddenly cuts and we hear the following voice over Before we begin tonight’s performance we would like to acknowledge and thank our corporate partners and sponsors Big list of corporate sponsors to follow And now that we have completely destroyed any atmosphere of magic and mystery, sit back and enjoy “Corporationa” Narrative Schmarrative, who needs a plot? When you’ve got a world franchise that’s this fucking hot. There’s a million ideas you’ll project onto it But I’ll tell you right now the whole thing don’t mean shit It’s a global phenomenon no one can fight The ideas are loose but the costumes are tight And smoke machines cover the fact we’ve got nothing to say Cirque Du Soleil

Johnson Dirt is good Dirt is good Dirt is natural it does everything that it should Dirt is everywhere we should embrace it Let your children get dirty let OMO erase it… Dirt is not a thing to be feared Dirt was on earth before people got here Dirt’s an essential part of your neighbourhood OMO needs dirty people so dirt is good… Smith Dirt is good. Dirt is good…DIRT…IS….Goood… (abrupt stop) I like it! Dirt is Good Dirt’s terrific Growing children need dirt, in fact, it’s scientific It boosts their resistance to illness Prevents asthma and allergies and general silliness Dirt’s full of enzymes which aid concentration Dirt is God’s own immunization Dirt has a purpose, it's everywhere and it's free Dirt creates healthy adults like you and me Yes, yes, yes! I like it. I like it a lot. What about you, Stuart, you’re always hip to the gay angle… what do you think… how will this wash with the homos on the street? (abrupt stop) Stuart Dirt is good It’s fundamental I think Streisand got dirty when she was in Yentil If Mom had just let me go outside to play Then maybe I wouldn’t be so gosh darn gay Dirt and Omo- what a great team Like Fred and Ginger or Torville and Dean I’m sure the fab five from Queer Eye would all agree “Dirt Is Good” and no-one’s as dirty as me… “Dirt is Good” I think it’s fabulous. I can’t wait to see the commercial. I don’t know if this helps but my exboyfriend’s boyfriend’s roommate knows someone who knows Lisa Minelli… Mr. Phillips Wait a minute… (abrupt stop) Doesn’t anyone want to know what I think? Stuart I’m sorry Mr. Phillips… I thought… I though you… Mr. Phillips I’ve had forty-three years experience in marketing and never in my life has a product I’ve marketed promoted the enemy… For forty-three years we’ve been scaring the shit out of parents, telling them if they don’t get the dirt out of their kid’s clothes, the kid’s gonna wind up with cancer. For fuck’s sake, in the eighties I was responsible for inventing twelve new strands of bacteria… just made em’ up… Coctafrothi Staptacocoli Coctostopoppi… Pretty much anything with “cock” in it sounded scary. And now this… “Dirt Is Good?” It’s ridiculous… (stab) It’s preposterous… (stab) It’s… it’s… It’s brilliant! (stab) Dirt is Good Dirt is sweet Now’days parents are so fucking anal and neat Health problems are on the increse-ity Who wants a house full of kids with no friends and obesity? We’ll scare parents til all their kids are unclean Say dirt improves social skills, builds self-esteem No-one can lie like a scientist in a white lab coat “Dirt Is Good” hell yes, you have my vote… All right, people, if we want this campaign to work we’re going to have to pull out all stops. Somebody get a pad and paper and write this down… I want child psychologists speaking on panels I want pro-dirt stories on every new channel I want graphs and charts on my desk by 12.30 Come on people! Let’s get those kids dirty Johnson Commission a study that says lack of dirt’ll Make children ugly, obese and infertile We’ll conquer the world with an international TV campaign Smith I see healthy young kids playing in dirt with their vigilant Nanny Phillips But they have to be white. Can’t see dirt if the kid’s Pakistani Smith Good point There’s a young girl who’s bored She’s playing in doors and she’s chubby- really chubby She may be clean but she’s a fat little thing And she’s hooked up to a dialysis machine! All Dirt is good It’s so hot This is gonna put OMO right over the top We’ve created the con of the century Oh, consumers must live in perilous times When they’re at the mercy of marketing minds They could stand in a forest and still be blind to the wood Johnson Cos it’s dirt Smith What is dirt? Phillips It’s just dirt Stuart It can’t hurt. (abrupt stop) …Can it? (pause) All No, it’s dirt, Dammit The truth is that Dirt Is Good

I Wanna Go Home The first girl I took to IKEA broke my heart We got home and the whole thing fell apart I held the screws to our bed as she fled Love is so much like an IKEA shelf You just have to put it together yourself And next week you're shopping with somebody else And I wanna go home I wanna go home Girl number two had "forever" written 'cross her face I'd never seen someone so at home in that place She didn’t know where to begin so she moved in This woman I love I despise when I shop I can’t even pronounce the name of this cup I’m keeping the Allen Key in case we break up And I wanna go home I wanna go home Girl number three was so busy adding up the cost She let go of my hand and she got lost By the time I found someone to help she'd met someone else I felt lower than any lamp's pricetag was marked I knew it was over before she had parked We got there in the morning I left in the dark And I wanna go home I wanna go home It's so damn depressing I think I could cry IKEA's where burnt out love curls up to die With so many dismantled lifestyles to buy I wanna go home I wanna go home I just wanted more than what IKEA stocks Something that didn't come out of a box My new love and I needed furniture but we were afraid Still we went to IKEA anyway At the showroom where no love survived we arrived How many times had I been here before? We stood in the carpark and looked at the store Then holding hands both backed away from the door She said, "I wanna go home" And I said, "I wanna go home

Where’s My Flat Screen TV, Bitch? Every day I watch your show and escape The realities of my life Every corner you’ve turned Every lesson you’ve learned Helps me know things will turn out alright I read O Magazine Every segment I’ve seen Tells me the answers are all here inside I searched my soul for a bit Nurtured my spirit and shit Yes I tried Oprah I tried Oprah for a start my family’s falling apart My wife and I just can’t make ends meet For some reason or another we don’t communicate with each other And the whole family is obese I can’t figure it out the family don’t leave the couch Our leaders tell us over and over that we’re free I know things could be better That’s why I’m writing this here letter Cos there’s just one thing we need… Where’s my flat screen TV, bitch? Where’s my flat screen TV, bitch? What’s the big deal, Oprah Winfrey, You’re fucking rich Where’s my flat screen TV, TV bitch? How can you tell me that the best things are free And that money cannot take its place Your philosophy has no merit When cash is a carrot That you dangle in front of my face You give your audience cars All your friends are big stars You say I could be part of your show You only make me feel bad Wanting things I can’t have So there’s just one thing I want to know Where’s my fridge and washing machine? I don’t wanna work to earn the American dream Oprah do realise how much that would mean Life would be much better with a brand new fridge and washing machine If you wanted to know why she’s beamed into everybody’s home You’d only have to see it’s because Everyone out there knows that God don’t answer prayers But Oprah Winfrey Does Not in God but Oprah we Trust I want it all without having to get off my ass Oprah’s going to heaven she’s bought her backstage pass Oprah we adore you we implore you Give some more shit to us… Where’s my flat screen TV Nothing solves life’s problems more than shit that is free You’re so rich/ cough it up bitch Give it to me… And I’ll say See, I passed the test, made one request And Oprah answered me This is not the end We could be friends Her fame rub off on me Celebrity’s in sight Please bring me to the light I’m down on my knees Save me God-slash-Oprah With a big wide flat-screen TV

The world is now a different place The old world gone without a trace Your left wing dreams have blown up in your face Of course it was a lovely thought That every human being ought To feel they are equal and have their own place to belong I’m here to say that liberal fairy-tale’s wrong For fact is fact and can’t be changed And this one simple fact remains; That Muslim men with lengthy names Each one of them, of course, insane Hijacked domestic aeroplanes Fulfilled their terrorism aims not everybody wants to be your friend Stop being so damn September 10 Thank heavens your guilt never overpowers The strength of your suburban ivory towers You’d probably like to help more but a day’s only twenty four hours So while you sip on lattes and boutique beers Shed out-dated socialist crocodile tears The New World Order is knocking down your door And Bolshevik bullshit can’t help you any more You worry about plastic bags Defend the rights of marrying fags You read too many Cleo mags And worry that your wife’s tits sag Your sponsoring of third world children Saves one child rejects one billion Fucking weak humanitarians Stop being so damn September 10 Our enemies get off on hearing left wing rants like these While you sip wine and nibble vintage cheese They’re growing stronger every day I say How can I help and stop you people lying to yourselves? We’re the world’s wealthiest eight percent Our pathetic shot at charity won’t make a dent What were we actually fighting for? Tomorrow and forever it’s just war war war…. Why did you come here tonight? We’ll have a laugh? won’t that be nice? But you can pay the ticket price The rest of the world is eating rice What’s so fucking God damn funny? We’re the cunts with all the money I don’t want to tell you all again Stop being so damn September 10 When will we all understand Our life is nothing but a bland And tiny speck of dust or sand That slips through the creator’s hand One grain of sand upon a beach All hope for us is out of reach We’re going to die the only question’s ‘when’? Stop being so damn September 10

I could have bottomless pockets full of loose change And yesterday’s homeless would be homeless today I look at my watch as I run for the train Sticking the headphones in my ears Don’t the world’s problems seem unsolvable? When did I get so cynical? Don’t wanna be so cynical We’re turning the clock back at least fifty years We vote for idols who have no ideas We’re becoming the same thing that everyone fears And sending the peace makers away What they call freedom is another brick wall When did I get so cynical Don’t wanna be so cynical Where is the joy? Where is the wonder? Where’s the lifeline for those going under? Ave Maria Gratsia Plena Gratsia plena Maria Maria Gratsia Let’s have a hand for the angry young boy At least he’s in love with the things he destroys Until they start listening he’ll keep making noise He just wants to tear the temple down All the King’s horses and all the king’s men Don’t want to put this world together again I wanna feel when I come to the end That I made something beautiful All anyone wants is a soft place to fall Let me be angry, upset and appalled Just don’t let me be too cyncial