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An explanation is required as Seaside Tales 2 has a drifting narrative of sorts....side 1 starts with the Emperor of Abyssinia Haile Selasie arriving in Worthing in the 1930s, on the run from Mussolini. He sings a lament for home and decent weather, whilst searching for a legendary fountain of youth his Sussex girlfriend had told him about. Rather usefully for some, there is in fact a fountain of youth in the basement of the Beach Hotel, an establishment occupied by the Squadron Leader, who is ageless but by no means young....the potent mix of the various intoxicants provided by the Abyssinians and the Squadron Leader leave their mark on the underbelly of this seemingly quiet seaside town... jump several decades to the Noughties, during which the spirit of Selasie remains in the form of Britain's only Amsterdam style 'coffee shop', which runs for a few years selling Worthing Wowie (dedicated to Chris Baldwin) before it is raided by the Council and Pc Plod.......but the trip was good and evokes memories of Worthing's mythical dragons, 'Knuckers', who live in bottomless ponds around the town. They are naturally allied to the Skeleton army, Worthing's finest rabble, who terrorised the Salvation army in the 19th century and demanded 'beef, bacca and beer', whilst throwing dead rats at do gooders. Meanwhile the ageless Squadron Leader is running 'Amnesia Expresso Tours' for the elderly and confused, and their trip is fuelled by goodness knows what. Added to the mix of locals is the Beachcomber, who has a hangover from the first Seaside Tales LP, but is sober enough to warn of impending doom from his home in the groins of the beach.

Like any old fashioned film there is then an Intermission (at the Dome cinema, in the 1953, or is it 2003?).

After which we get down to Side 2, the Decline and Fall of everything, as the locals drown in the fruits of their labour, with the Beachcomber watching on... .the fisherman lose their livelihood as the Toxic Cowboys dump waste into sea, No More sea bass in the locker, until the fishers are forced to go Somali and turn pirate (hijacking a cross channel luxury ferry). Meanwhile the profits roll in for mr Fishfinger, who has an enormous seaside landfill courtesy of the local council, and we all continue to live it up, ignoring the ever brewing monster Storm, which arrives vengeful and lusty. What was once land is now water, and on a Life raft the survivors are unrepentant, they'd do it all again with the same outcome, it was a great trip after all... And as they Drift Away, they sing a simple song of individuality, philosophical whimsy in the face of endless nothing............only joking folks!
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Lyrics
Here Comes the Emperor...

Retirees
and old school Tories
are only part of the story,

Of south coast voo dn doo
skullduggery,
a smugglers past,
a little Anarchy

A thespian,
tradition,
of Wilde and Pinter,
the curtain callin' man

Here's to you
the underground Worthing style,
the emperor selassie
lived here a while

recuperating,
in a seaside haze,
1938.....
on the run,
from Mussolini,
in Warnes hotel,
Vodka Martini's,

Was he looking for a rumour?
a fountain....

Here comes the Emperor
Beach Hotel...

Beach Hotel they're not very mobile
they've got their own style friday night
Beach Hotel on toupee's and lip gloss
shaking to Joe Loss they get tight

They've got their own style friday night to do
they drink from the fountain of youth
they drink from the fountain of youth

Gin and whisky twisting in their best frocks
as the lounge rocks to the sound
of waiters in tuxedo's singing Danny La Rue
clutching trays full of blue curacao

They've got their own style friday night to do
they drink from the fountain of youth
they drink from the fountain of youth

Beach Hotel they're not very mobile
they've got their own style.............

Far below that hotel bar
lies the source of the voodoo,
the fountain of youth flows up
from the depths of the old school,
maintained by the leader of the house group Ilford Wristy,
driven crazy by the big band beatnik hotel orgies,
like National Service on a non stop James Last head trip,
drink right from the source
then into the channel for a dip...........ooh!
Worthing Wowie...

My name is mr Baldwin
reefer is my callin'
I'm in a spot of trouble
With the coppers and the council

My shop is made for smoking
Amsterdam meets Worthing
I'm rolling in my wheelchair
giving customer care

Pensioners they drive in
to ease that aging feeling
in a quiet little corner
with a cup of darjeeling

Its quicker than the doctors
better than prescription
I'm servicing a certain
ageing population,
with a clean canteen
where they purchase their greens
because they like it, they want it,
to help them daydream

Talk about the races
play some crazy aces
old biddies on a whist drive
stoned off their faces

Dull your arthuritis
ease your rheumatism
you'll float home contented,
I'll end up in prison

Its quicker than the doctors
better than prescription
I'm servicing a certain
ageing population,
if the cops storm in
you don't remember a thing,just say your losing, your marbles,
and you'd like a lift home!
Knuckers...

Were Knuckers
up from our knucker holes
out for the evening on a monster patrol

Off to Broadwater with the Skeleton Army
to shatter the calm
so raise the alarm

We'll spend the night round the midsummer tree
indulging in the 3Bs

We don't need the Salvo's here,
we don't have a god to fear,
what we want is very clear
Beef, Bacca and Beer

No Salvation wanted here

We come from
deep down in a bottomless pond
deep down in a bottomless pond
salvation means nothing when your really gone
deep down in a bottomless pond

Gonna bring some voodoo and a dragon along
from deep down in a bottomless pond

We don't need the Salvo's here,
we don't have a god to fear,
what we want is very clear
Beef, Bacca and Beer
Amnesia Expresso Tours...

You need an adventure,
take a road trip into the sun,
forget your dementia,
the party's almost begun,

Feel the vibrations,
the rhythms wash you away,
keep traveling in circles,
were gonna re rewind your day,

Amnesia expresso tours
it's a knees up if your on the wane,
a journey down to Goring Hall
via Findon and memory lane

You need an adventure,
take a sun trip into the road,
ferment your dementia,
the party's gonna explode,

Let the vibrations,
and the rhythms wash you away,
keep talking in circles,
were gonna voodoo you today

Amnesia expresso tours,
it's a winner if your fading fast,
a journey down to Rustington,
in a big chair behind tinted glass,

Come and get your kicks
on a bus load of old chicks,
driver's ex ghurka,
waiter's from the tropics,
cruise control
to keep you whole.
if you get in trouble
when your knocking down a double
gin rickey, it'll do the trick,
tighten up your coursette
while we spin the hits,
cliff and the shadows
perry como,
the wing commander digs a little bit of manilow,

go cat go
put the pedal to the metal
gonna find me a pensioner to fiddle with my medals bro,
you need a vacation,
go cat go
put the pedal to the metal
gonna find me a pensioner to fiddle with my medals bro,
you need a vacation,
old cats go with amnesia expresso,
you need a vacation....
Beachcomber...

The hours confuse,
In my line of work,
I'm here and there
like a sea change,
the different gifts,
the seasons all bring,
make up the best part
off my right brain

I'm a beachcomber baby,
day and the night,
a rum runner shady,
seasonal type,
I don't need nobody,
and noone knows me,
I'm lost in the moonlight

and as the downs rollover
and as the downs rollover
and into the sea,
I ride on the crest of my right to be free
I ride on the crest of my right to be free

I cruise the coast roads
shovel in hand
pick up the secrets,
lost in the sand,
I wait for the rain,
to empty the beach,
I dig up the bounty,
buried down deep

I'm a rum runner floating
on the riptide,
you don't recognise me
I'm a bird as I fly,
round Shoreham marina
but noone sees me,
I'm lost in the moonlight,
immediately,

The hours confuse,
in my line of work,
I'm here and there like a sea change...
Intermission...

Time traveling at a quiet screening
chauffeured by silent gods
black and white to Panavision,
Is what I'm dreaming of

Red Buttons on a white wagon,
blue tunes from mountain tops,
wild horses in a lost canyon,
broken by keystone cops

Rod Steiger, James Coburn,
fight for a hopeless cause,
just as the gun's smoking,
somebody presses pause

Naughty boy
sitting in the backseat,
trying to use some style,
at the dome in the Intermission,
you better wait a while
Decline and Fall...

Decline and fall,
drunk on the fountain one and all,
drowning in the flavour,
gorging on the fruits of their labour
Toxic Cowboy...

I can't go to sea,
in this toxic fishery,
it's messing with me,
I think I'm turning green

I can't get myself to sleep,
toxic cowboys in a cod war,
riding roughshod over me,
trawl the deep until there's no more

Infectious agents bloom,
toxic residue,
bioconcentrates,
dioxins for bait,

A floating factory,
froze and processed me,
tinned me up in brine,
gone for all of time

I can't get myself to sleep,
toxic cowboys in a cod war,
riding roughshod over me,
trawl the deep until there's no more

No More...

No More Fishing the Shallows
No More skirting the narrows
No More dover sole waiting
No More lines that need baiting
No More sailing at midnight
No More long rods and flash lights
No More nets full of flat fish
Beaten by factory ships
No More bass in the locker
No More mackeral to offer
No More markets in your square
We Ate Everything out there

out on the ocean my dinner in brine,
a bagful of uppers and the mariners rhyme,
searching for seafood in a bottle of rum,
dogfish or huss in a rusty old drum

the world ain't round when you get to the end,
I can't feed my people with a fishermans friend,
bloodshot stinking going out of our minds,
gonna seajack a cross channel luxury line

were going somali from now on it seems,
forced to make a living out of piracy,
driven to thieving with little to lose,
the jolly roger wrecks your pleasure cruise
The Storm...

It's a huge money spinner
for mr Fishfinger
he's got a seaside landfill
deep below Selsey Bill
only the Beachcomber tried
to warn about the king tide
way bigger than 53,
the revenge of the sea,
but the men from the council,
no they didn't listen,
they've got interests invested,
'and your just bad for business'
so the folk got fat as the storm rolled in (feed me baby)
so the folk got fat as the storm rolled in (feed me baby)
Liferaft...

In a life raft,
swaying to the german bight,
the gulf stream
gone with the search lights
a shipwreck, on dry land,
when you throw it away
aah but the good old days they were worth it anyhow,
lets do it one more time with feeling
and all indulge in a tune

on a platform,
riding on the radio waves,
vhf, waiting on the long range

a signal, to shine out,
into the night

aah but the good old days they were worth it anyhow
lets do it one more time with feeling,
aah but the good old days they were worth it anyhow
lets do it one more time with feeling
and all indulge in a tune
Drift Away...

We live as we do in our dreams
all alone we think as we breath,
we give and we take as we go
coz your the only one that you really know

Every time I try to see what you're thinking
I fall because I just ain't you,
but please mamma come and get inside me
we might lose but I won't cry if we do

Is the end just the same as the time
we spent livin' it out on our own?
we survive and we try to be one,
but together we just struggle alone

We survive and we try to be one,
but together we just struggle alone

Every time I try to see what you're thinking
I fall because I just ain't you,
but please mamma come and get inside me
we might lose but I won't cry if we dov
© Beanhighway Productions & Rupert Latimer | rupert@beanhighway.co.uk | 07891326130
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