I'd like to finish off now with a song that I wrote for my father.
Unfortunately, my father can't sing,
so I have to sing the bloody thing for him as well.
LAUGHTER
My father was born in a place called Plasto,
which is a very salubrious part of the East End.
And every week he does the football balls,
and has done them for years and years.
I thought that there must have been lots and lots
of people like that who do the balls week in,
week out.
And all these people that do them,
they maintain that if they won,
it wouldn't affect their lifestyle at all,
which is a load of *,
because there'd be no point in doing them in
the first place if it's not going to change you,
would there?
So,
bearing that in mind,
I wrote my dad this song,
and it's called Working Class Millionaire.
It's a chorus, and...
Oh, you fancy singing now, don't you?
Great.
Watched Lip Beater and the Wild Rover.
LAUGHTER
Even if you ain't going to sing,
you know,
you can pretend.
And then I can pretend I went down well.
You ready?
Ready?
You fancy singing?
Yes!
Liars.
Anyway,
what you have to do,
you see,
is you have to imagine...
Or
for some of you it'll be OK, but for others,
you have to put on an East End accent,
and to sort of help the proceedings along,
to make it more authentic and sort of East End-y,
if you've got a bottle near you,
you can smash it on a chair.
And sort of wave it around as you're singing,
you know?
And that's not only good fun,
but it makes the people near you sing louder as well.
And at the end of each line,
you either sniff or you spit,
all right?
And if you sniff, you sniff in E.
And if you're going to spit,
you spit sideways,
all right?
Please.
So...
Right, this is the chorus.
I don't want to be a clerk,
a conductor or a spark.
Life's too short for working, ooh.
Which is spelt double O,
sort of as in reggae, you know?
Ooh!
Life's too short for working, ooh knows where.
So I'll just sit back and dream,
forget the hours in between
and be a working-class millionaire,
all right?
And if you can't remember all of it,
you just belt out
working-class millionaire at the end as loud as you can.
Make an idiot of yourself.
On this sort of tour,
this is,
I think,
the 19th night.
And what I've been doing,
I've been having a league to see who's the best singers.
Now,
first of all,
don't worry,
because you won't be worse than Southport Theatre.
No chance.
But, um...
I mean, you turned up, which is, you know...
I played through last night.
Oh, that was here, wasn't it?
Never mind.
What you've got to do is you've got to beat Sheffield City Hall,
and who beat Newcastle City Hall on goal average.
But it shouldn't be too difficult,
cos we're all playing at home,
you see,
and they had to put on accents,
so most of you won't have to.
So we should win tonight,
and it should be the chorus of the tour.
Should be.
I'll sing it to you,
so you know what you've got to sing,
make it easier,
and then we'll all sing it,
or I'll sing it again,
I don't mind.
And we'll start off with a good old East End chord.
I bet you didn't know I knew that one, did you?
I don't want to be a clerk,
a conductor or a spark
Life's too short for working, who knows where
So I'll just sit back and dream,
forget the hours,
it's in between
And be a working-class millionaire
All right?
That's all there is.
Your turn.
I don't want to be a clerk,
a conductor or a spark
Life's too short for working, who knows...
Like the Beverley Sisters.
So I'll just sit back and dream,
forget the hours,
it's in between
And be a working-class millionaire Great.
It's like Rent-A-Yog.
Great.
We'll just try that end bit again, OK?
And get working-class millionaire-ing.
Be proud.
So I'll just sit back and dream,
forget the hours,
it's in between
And be a working-class millionaire
People say to me,
what the hell you gonna be When I
tells them I see laughter in their eyes
If you want an explanation,
I've found me true vocation Though me
answer seems to take them by surprise
There ain't no good jobs to be found round
Bethnal Green or Canning Town Bar a councillor,
a magistrate or mayor
Away you go.
Where all me mates could go,
a carriage and a team of dappled greys And on
the lawn I'd have a seat for tired pairs of feet
Of folks that's walked in search of better days
There'd be a lion either side of the gateway to the
drive And a statue of Billy Bones would greet me guests
And in the marble halls,
gold posts painted on the walls And other
things the Amsterd crowd detests In harmony,
I don't wanna be a clerk,
a conductor or a spa Life's too short for working who knows where
So I'll just sit back and dream,
forget the hours,
it's in between And be a working-class millionaire
So now I've got this palace grand,
it sounds like summing down a strand But it ain't,
it's down by Royal Albert Dock
There's boats of high-tides but a score,
still retreating from the wharf Or whom the
butler's got two fingers when they knock
Yes,
it's a simple life for me,
that's all I want you see That's all the Cockney pride in me
expects There's nothing can compare with an East End millionaire
That's used to living just from one day to the next Last time,
I don't wanna be a clerk,
a conductor or a spa Life's too short for working who knows where
So I'll just sit back and dream,
forget the hours, it's in between
Ready?
Crescendo here, a bit of tears.
Ready?
Breathe in.
Oh Christ, breathe out.
And be a working-class millionaire
Great.
Goodnight.