The Festive Fifty By Jim Higo

I could top the charts with a power number, A political song, raise the masses from slumber, Do a gig on the Humber. Dance on stage with footwork nifty, I'd rather be in the festive fifty. I could get Mick Jones to produce my single, Go to A list parties, and mingle, Write a radio jingle. Play the poseur, mean and shifty, I'd rather be in the festive fifty. I could get a friend on the NME, Change my name to Doherty, Talk about cocaine and E. Get Kate Moss on stage to kiss me, I'd rather be in the festive fifty. I could do a tour supporting Weller, Go to fashion shows with Stella, Be a trendy feller. Say things like 'cool' and 'diss me'. I'd rather be in the festive fifty. I could tell tall tales of tormented youth, Bend the rules, distort the truth, Be self important and aloof. Have sycophants to lift me, I'd rather be in the festive fifty. I could go to classes and learn to dance, Or adopt an extreme (and frankly ridiculous) political stance, I could ring up Geri Halliwell and concoct a fictitious romance. Have a Philippino to assist me, I'd rather be in the festive fifty. I could have a kid with Lisa Moorish, Get women to be lewd and whorish, Act all loud and brash and boorish. Have groupies who cannot resist me, I'd rather be in the festive fifty. When I lose all reason, hope and trust, When my dreams and schemes have turned to dust, When my mind is hazy and concussed. I look for solace in things that lift me, And I drink to Peel and the festive fifty.

Copyright © Jim Higo 2006

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