If you’re confused about what this entails, then take a look back at Part 1 for guidance. Otherwise, prepare yourself for the next track listed down below.
So I traded in four hogs and a free all you can eat pass to the Mr H Trailer Park and 24/7, 365, All-Nite Pig Grill and Tanning Saloon (closed Wednesdays). The Mr H Glee Club (pictured above) gave me a ride to the airport and after the first search like THAT since my Daddy thought I was stealing his baccy, it wasn’t long before I headed over to Scotchland to console the Widow McH.
Well dang and blast it if Mrs H (pictured below) hadn’t been on the telly phone and told Mrs McH all about my wicked fornikating plans. What a waste of four hogs. I’m gonna miss ole Squealer. Anyways, on the way back I had a stopover in N’Awlyns, and caught up with Mrs H’s cousing, Dripeaux Coques. Now he’s one of them there Cajun Injun fellas, and let me tell you, those boys have got some nasty, nasty habits. Some of which I may have caught, if the itching is anything to go by.
Fair enuff tho’, we had us a righteous time listening to some of the native music, even if it as a bit on the piccaninny side. Judge for yourself below. Now where’s my scratchin post?
As before, a beautifully designed pictographical clue is down below somewhere to assist you in the identification of the delicate and fragrant artiste.
So without further ado, I present the latest part of the 2009 Death Disco! Apply baby lotion here, and click to download. Or you can play them all as they arrive in the Death Box over on the right hand side of your screen.
If you’re confused about what this entails, then take a look back at Part 1 for guidance. Otherwise, prepare yourself for the next track listed down below.
Being as how it’s Saturday and I’ve been let out the Packahassee County Jail, my ole Scotch cousin Mr McH has aksed me to join in this here Death Disco thang. Now I’m hoping if he’s popped off, then that leaves me a clear run at his widow (pictured below). I don’t want to jump in too quick, but I reckon a week and a half after he’s laid in the ground I should be layin’ her down.
Anyways, here’s the fifth part of the 2009 Death Disco! Insert banjo here, and click to download. Or you can play them all as they arrive in the Death Box over on the right hand side of your screen.
As y’all know by now, I’ve been incarcerated in the Packahassee County Jail, and it’s the All-New Mr H Glee Club who’ve been performing for the boys in Cell Block 9, these last few weeks.
A few folks have been dropping into the Mr H Trailer Park and 24/7, 365, All-Nite Pig Grill and Tanning Saloon (closed Wednesdays), to pass on their condolences to Mrs H, seeing as how I’ll be here for Christmas. Well, let me tell y’all, that I’ve still got friends on the outside, and they’ve been done keeping an eye on just who has been condoling Mrs H. So, I know where you live, and I’ll be out next month.
Now that I’m out of solitary confinement, the beatdowns are only once a week, which leaves plenty time for Jesus, grits and knuckle ride Nancy, especially since the cause of my current predicament, my long lost cousin Twinkle (pictured below), came visiting last week.
I’ve never seem so many men fighting for a ringside view. The warden had to hose them done with Big Bertha, the water cannon he liberated from them there Al Keeda boys down in Knoxville. Leastways, they were overly swarthy, and ran a kebab shop, which is the kind of Commie Islamic we’ve got to stamp out, now that Commie Islamic dude is president.
Kenny over at the Aryan Brotherhood wing reckons that if he sends him a welcome to the White House gift, in the shape of a pentagram, that the Satanic Commie Islamilover won’t be able to resist. And then ka-boom!
Course, Kenny ain’t exactly sure what a pentagram looks like, but there’s a Jewish boy working the kitchen whose going to be press ganged Saturday night. Kenny says the Jews know all about Satan and sewing, so he’ll be a natural. I’m not so sure. My Uncle Ulysses went to Boston once, and said they were just like the rest of. Only they couldn’t speak English proper.
After the tremendous success of the prison stage production of The Country Bears, me and the boys are putting on a Christmas show. The warden sure loves Christmas, almost as much as the Marshall Tucker Band, so we’ve run up a version of their Christmas classic ‘My Christmas In Custody’. which you can listen to here.
Come Christmas Day, I’ll be listening to my Scotch cousing, Mr McH on GRTR between 8 and 10pm GMT, and he’s promised to play the original version.
See, Tuesday is my day to use the comperputer here in the Packahassee County Jail, where I’ve spent the last couple of weeks learning the error of my ways through the power of Jesus, solitary confinement and bi-daily beatdowns.
Now that I have allowed Jesus into my life, I’m allowed out of my cell twice a week, which has come as a relief to Mrs H back at the Mr H Trailer Park and 24/7, 365, All-Nite Pig Grill and Tanning Saloon (closed Wednesdays).
She thought I’d gone and ran off with my long lost cousin Twinkle (pictured below). Which just goes to show you – never get drunk on Hog Hurling Day coz when they switch the lights back on, you never know whose mouth your tongue is going to be in. I tried to tell Mrs H it was an accident, but she’s a jealous woman, and packs a mighty punch for a lil’ lady.
Which is also why I’m here. Big Ronnie found out about the spittle swizzling, and as Twinkles paramour of many a year, he came in with his fists a-flying. Now I gave him a good licking, threw him in the back of the truck, drove him home and left him in the barn for the cows to pee on come milking time. Which is our time honoured way of doing things.
Thing is, I plumb forgot it was his year to be sheriff, and blow me, if he didn’t come back the very next day with a possee of his brothers, a stun gun, and a cockamamie tale of me having jumped him from behind. Seems to me he’s thinking about that mule he got over friendly with back he was then thirteen, but I ended up with six weeks in the county jail, courtesy of the local judge, who goes by the name of Grandpa Ronnie. You do the math.
Good news is, I landed here just in time for their annual show! This year, they’re doing a stage production of The Country Bears, which you may recall as the Greatest Movie Of All Time. We still screen it last Thursday of the month back at the Mr H Trailer Park and 24/7, 365, All-Nite Pig Grill and Tanning Saloon (closed Wednesdays), and we sell out the show every time.
Which means I’ve formed an all-new Packahassee County Jail Mr H Glee Club, and am delighted to present for your delectation our versions of ‘I’m Only In It For The Honey‘ and ‘Bear Mountain Hop‘. Now I know we’re not quite as good as the originals, but we’ve still got a week before showtime.
Tickets are only $5 each, or you can go get the original film here.
Yes, folks, it’s time to take another random dip into the big pile of 7″ singles, to see what pops out. Not much time this spin around, but here’s four for you to get your teeth into.
First up is a truly dreadful piece of Euro hippy pop / rock from 1975 -’Freedom (Glory Alleluia)‘ by Mamie Carson.
Not even the internet can shed light on this mysterious pile of pap, which seems to go on and on and on forever, without actually going anywhere. This is why furriners cannot be trusted.
Praise be then for item number 2. The glory that is Thomas the Jones. He may be a puffed out old windbag these days, but back in 1971 he could breathe fresh joy into the utterly brilliant ‘Resurrection Shuffle‘. For sure, Ashton, Gardner and Dyke were good, but they were no Sir Tom Jones. Even better, all this brilliance is contained within the magic 3 minutes, 30 seconds beyond which no single should stray. Are you listening Mamie Carson?
Oof! An early return for the fabulous Mungo Jerry to these pages. As befits a man who should be ennobled, Mr Mungo belies his Mary and Midge roots with a fine piece of r’n'b. As you should all know the A-side, let’s take B-side ‘Little Miss Hipshake‘ for a rare outing.
Finally, for today, it’s some country rock, courtesy of the band with the worst name ever. Redwing. Let me repeat that. Redwing. Obviously it means something else in Northern California. They’re actually one of my favourite country rock outfits, who released five albums on Fantasy Records in the mid seventies without every breaking through. They started life as a folk trio before making a garage punk single in 1965, recording an album under the name Glad in 1968 before Timothy B Schmidt headed off for Poco and The Eagles.
But they’re really here not because of ‘Bonnie Bones‘, rather because of the awesome World War 1 flying ace moustache on the sleeve below.
I know it’s been a while but we haven’t had to go looking for trouble down at the Mr H Trailer Park and 24/7, 365, All-Nite Pig Grill and Tanning Saloon (closed Wednesdays). You may recall that just as the Mr H Glee Club (pictured above) was heading off on tour, that our tenor, Big Bubba, got into a bit of bother when he discovered that Lil Bubba had been porking the pig a little bit close to home.
What with the fight, pa-ternity tests and jail time, it took us a might longer to get back home than planned. We had to leave Lil Bubba behind in French Lick, Indiana, as we’d no money for gas, and Louis who runs the Gun Shak wanted something to trade. So Lil Bubba had to go.
By the time we got back it turned that Big Bubba had worried for nothing. Turns out he’s not pa to Big Bubba Jr and lil Missy Babette, but he is their granpa. Swings and roundabouts.
Despite that, him and Mrs Bubba (pictured below) have decided to try and make a go of it. Which is a relief for those of who’d noticed the startling similarity between Big Bubba Jr, and a certain Pig Grill proprietor.
To celebrate, we decided to work up a new tune in honour of Mrs Bubbas finest ass-ett. So click on the link thing to take a listen to ‘Brilliant Conversationist”.
Welcome to Part 3 of International Tom Jones Week, the one week of the year when the wobbly Welsh warbler receives his proper due as the Greatest Singer Of The 20th Century And Beyond.
The Great Man is, of course, a Master of all forms of music and, in addition to his many other titles, is also the “King Of Rock’n'Roll”.
Elvis Presley – fat balladeer Jerry Lee Lewis – mad speedofile, and Little Richard – mad transvestite,
only Thomas the Jones is the true “King Of Rock’n'Roll”.
feel the power as he exudes his manliness at former jailbait Brooke Shields, requesting that she be his “Little Queenie“.
Now listen to well known toileteer Mister Chuck Berry as he labours away in the knowledge that he will never be as good as Thomas the Jones
Yup, it’s that time of year, with pa-ternity tests pending, that the Mr H Glee Club heads off to take their country rockin’ sounds to the internet free / mobile dead zones of our beloved United States of America.
Local law enforcement permitting, we should be back around about the beginning of September, but don’t panic – the Mr H Trailer Park and 24/7, 365, All-Nite Pig Grill (closed Wednesdays) will be in the safe hands of Lil’ Lindy-Lou. Well, hand, ever since the mincer incident. So stop on by for all your dead meat needs (we rent trailers by the hour).
If you happy to be over here, looking for pleasure, me and the boys will be appearing in Bald Knob, Arkansas, Blue Ball, Delaware, French Lick, Indiana, Gay Head, Massachusetts, Square Butt, Montana, Humptulips, Washington, Pussy Creek, Ohio and Toadsuck Arkansas.
If you can’t make it here’s a rare, live recording of the Mr H Glee Club to keep you warm at night.
Now I know what you folks are thinking. It ain’t Saturday. Well, let me tell you, when the beer starts flowing and the fists go flying, then pretty much any night is Saturday night down at the Mr H Trailer Park and 24/7, 365, All-Nite Pig Grill (closed Wednesdays).
Just for a change, it was all the fault of Big Bubba, who sings tenor with the Mr H Glee Club (pictured above, Mr H centre). Seems his brother (and tenor), Lil Bubba has been porking the pig a little bit close to home, and that maybe, just maybe, Big Bubba Jr and lil Missy Babette aren’t going to grow up as tall and as purty as Big Bubba.
So, things got a bit rowdy when Mrs Bubba (pictured below) turned up, all halter neck, low flying breasts and hot pants, and started jiggling and gyrating stage right. And everyone knows that Big Bubba never strays from stage left. Not since the incident with the branding iron and the ripped dungarees. Before you could give a “Yee-Haw”, the whole Glee Club erupted into the best damn fight we’ve had since Missy-Sue gave three of us a dose the night of the boar wrestling contest.
A bit of a shame, as we’d just worked up a fine rendition of our signature tune, the Jake Owens classic “Yee-Haw“. We won’t be playing this Saturday, what with two $50 fines and a lack of members. So with the Mr H Glee Club out of action for quite some time, we’ve lined up the Topless Bowling Team for entertainment. Hope my bowling arm still works. If you don’t fancy seeing me topless, buy the CD here, stay home, and make your own entertainment.
After the success of a couple of weeks back, I decided to delve deeper into the vinyl cupboard. Sadly, this visit brought some very mixed results.
Cerrone – Love In C Minor – inexplicably popular seventies French DJ. The words French and DJ should have been warning enough. People too scared to watch porn probably bought it for the heavy breathing.
Curved Air – Back Street Luv – I can only assume that in 1972 hairy blokes were so desperate for poontang that they would buy this awful, leaden, pub prog, on the hope that the chick singer would take them backstage, despite her actually being a bloke. Have reformed for no discernible reason. Listen.
Da Lench Mob – Freedom Got An A.K – yes, some hippity hop from Ice Cube proteges who seem to think that shooting white people is A Good Idea. I have to disagree, unless they’ve still got an A.K. Same sample as ‘Jump Around’ by House Of Pain, which is a million times better, so listen to that instead, despite my antipathy to the murdering micks. Listen.
Dani Ali / Annabel Lamb – Talk To Me – yup, the Theme from Damon & Debbie, the godawful Brookside spin off which thankfully died very quickly. Clever marketing ploy has fake Damon and Debbies singing the same tune, but that fails to polish AOR turd.
Willie Cobbs – CC Rider – Praise be for some good old fashioned harmonica blooze.
Dandy Warhols – Gett Off – pointless, dull indie on appropriately shit coloured vinyl.
Chi-Lites – You Don’t Have To Go – back to the good stuff with Eugene Record and his boys giving us some mighty seventies soul. Listen.
Mac Davis – Baby, Don’t Get Hooked On Me – country songwriters shows why other people had hits with his songs – wrote ‘In The Ghetto’ fact fans. Once sang this song on the Muppet Show with Miss Piggy. Now, that’s fame! Listen.
Chicory Tip – Good Grief Christina – good grief, they had more than one record. video free video version right below.
Deep Purple – Smoke On The Water – RAWK! And you all know that, so here is the lesser known Six Feet Under version. Listen.
Chic – I Want Your Love – the one that wasn’t as good as ‘Good Times’ or ‘Le Freak’.
Gun – Welcome To The Real World – Scotch plod rockers who managed to have proper hit single and albums before returning to vocational waitering. Listen.
Tina Charles – Fire Down Below – sadly, not the Bob Seger / Bette Midler tune. No, it’s the evil Biddu and his tune from seventies soft porner “The Stud”. Smashed. Scarily, Annabel Lamb from Damon & Debbie has been employed by Ms Charles and hat a hit all of our own.
Merle Haggard – I’m Always On A Mountain When I Fall – Hag thinks prison preferable to being on this list. Listen.
Chanson – I Can Tell – textbook example of how acorns CAN fall far from the tree, as this awful orchestrated disco number was written and produced by James Jamerson Jr, son of the legendary Funk Brother.
Jagged Edge – Hell Ain’t A Long Way – more leaden British so called rawk from so called next big things. Title makes no sense, and recording live B sides at the Woughton centre, Milton Keynes should make you realise that you are not Next Big Thing. Sleeve, somewhere in the right hand side column confirms not Next Big Thing.
Bonus Six Feet Under kover. Wooooaaaaaaaarrgggghhhh!!!!!!!!!!
Bonus Peggy Lee track from Otis Redding Post. Cool.
That Annabel Lamb hit. Don’t blame me, blame the eighties.
This Saturday, we’re holding a wake for my dead Mama down at the Mr H Trailer Park and All-Nite Pig Grill (closed Wednesdays).
As usual, the Mr H Glee Club (pictured above, Mr H centre), are once again providing the musical backing to a day of teary eyes and sad country songs.
Me and the boys have been workin’ up a special set, and have got a handle on “When God Comes And Gathers His Jewels” by Merle Haggard, “One Dyin’ And A Buryin” by Roger Miller and “O Death” by Dr. Ralph Stanley & The Clinch Mountain. And, of course, seeing as how this is the South, the classic Kissing You Goodbye by John Denver,, with its plaintive cry of “Get your tongue out of my mouth cause I’m kissing you goodbye”
What with the free beer and a pig in th ground, all my rowdy friends should have a mighty fine time. Even purty little Miss Heidi Newfield (who scrubs up real nice) has promised to bring the trick Pony boys over for a grandstand jam. Should be good. What with the additional clean up time required, the Mr H Trailer Park and All-Nite Pig Grill will be closed till noon on Sunday, but come by for lunch, and there will be some tasty sloppy seconds.
