Reality Propaganda is how I see things in the big wide world out there and what's going on in my own little world. This episode is about comedians, big mouths and how the news agenda is set by selling sex and ignoring humanitarian crisis... it's no laughing matter.

Comedians

Rock n roll is dead because that’s what they say

Another art to whitewash, another tune to play

Geriatric rockers from the land that time forgot

Jagger and Bowie had their day, goodbye and that’s your lot

Send them out to the farmyards to old pastures to graze

But what we got to take their place? What’s the latest craze?

Where are the visionaries from the days of long hot Donna Summers?

What ever happened to heroes of Lydon, Weller and Strummer?

But we’ve got laughter! Comedy’s the name of the game

Joking little jokers have found their way to fame

Just like the good old days of laughing in the stalls

“I met her outside the pawnbrokers, she kissed me under the balls!”

With all our yesterdays of Jimmy, Bob and Bruce

New kids from the block swing down and start to kick it loose

Golden days of the London Palladium

Don’t need the old dumps; young jokers sell out Wembley Stadium.

So I sat and watched the telly to see what it’s all about

I fell asleep a dozen times and my dreams I did shout

“Did you ever hear the one about the you know what?”

I tried and tried to stumble on, but the punchline I forgot

So I forced myself to watch on to see what this lot’s got

My friend he had to prod me, when to laugh and when to not

He had to hit me sixty times but the prompts became pokes

My ribs turned black then blue, but I still didn’t get the jokes

So at half time at the interval I switched to the other side

And at the adverts I laughed so hard I nearly split my sides

My friend looked puzzled and perplexed

An attitude that made me vexed

“What?” he asked “makes you laugh?” I could see that he was riled

“I laugh at what I want to.” I replied with pride

“Give me Eric and Ernie. I’m the one to decide.”

“But they’re old fashioned, they’re boring!” he winged and cried

He wasn’t laughing. “They’re not hip!”

I decided to split my sides then I split his lip.

So how the hell are we here?

Caught in the sterile confines of a silly jesters stale mate

You see our leaders are grey men and blandness is our fate

Need to grab some excitement before it gets too late

Grey people for grey times, at least Thatcher had some balls

Two more than Major’s cabinet and their “Back To Basics” calls

Where’s the colour? Where’s the passion?

Not just a one second wonder as a radical fashion

Go cut a calf in half and call it an art

As much creative capabilities as Kellogg’s cardboard Pop-tart

Pompous little posers all out on the take

Multi-mega dollars, just art for art sake

In times of recession integrity faces the chop

In the sea of banality the crap floats to the top.

And the comedian smiles and milks the applause

Non-hero worship he’s forgotten the cause

And the audience stands and shouts, “encore!” and “mores!”

Not tonight though, it’s not in the contract clause

And he’s laughing all the way, all the way to the bank

Because the joke is on us; we’re the ones to thank.

Ha bloody ha.

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