Rob's Amazing Film Collection: Part Four (Babel to Be Kind Rewind)

 Well good evening. May I interest you in a short journey through the 'B' section of my film collection? 

It's not the best film collection ever. Indeed, there are many notable omissions. And many films that I actively dislike, but for some reason can't bring myself to part with. But I think maybe the real treasure is probably the friends we made along the way. Or something.

If anyone asks, we'll say that. 

So here we are, in the 'B' section. Is it any good? Let's find out. 

Babel

I have seen this film exactly once, and I'm in no massive hurry to see it again. The picture I've chosen represents exactly my memory of it - sad people sitting around being still and sad. 

I think I own it because I really liked Amores Perros and 21 Grams - previous films by director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu. What an amazing name. Try saying it out loud. It's loads of fun, isn't it? Now imagine being able to walk into rooms and announce yourself with that name. 

"Behold! It is I. Alejandro! Gonzzzzzzalez! In! A! Rrrrrit! U! Now - give me your wine, your women and a selection of cold meats."

Anyway, this film is nowhere as fun as that would be. It is all about people being quietly depressed. I think their child dies in a pool or something. And no-one speaks their language, so they can't even shout "Oh no! I am so sad!" without people shrugging and offering them directions to the beach.

Baby Driver

This is more like it. People zooming about in cars, and doing exciting shooting with guns. And Edgar Wright, who won me over with the first episode of 'Spaced', playing all sorts of masterful tricks with his camera and editing. 

This is a pretty excellent experience, at least upon first watch. I was blown away at the cinema by all it's cleverness and it's excellent soundtrackness and fast driveyness. It was not quite as exciting second time for some reason. Not sure why. It's well acted and the plot is pretty solid. It devolves into silliness at the end, but I'm generally in favour of that, if it's done with confidence. It's certainly better that Scott Pilgrim - another Wright film that leans heavy on the style, but is way too pleased with itself. 

I don't know, Baby Driver. I don't know why I don't love you as much as I should. If it helps, I bought your soundtrack. Please don't cry.

Back to the Future

The Back to the Future films are perfect. Everyone knows it. There might, I suppose, be some people who pretend otherwise - professional contrarians who like to sigh heavily when presented with brilliant things as if a moment of happiness would get them instantly kicked out of cool guys club. 

Disliking stuff doesn't make you cool, professional contrarians! It makes you massive pillocks. There is nothing wrong with sharing in the joy of mutual appreciation for a work of great beauty and it diminishes you not one jot to admitting that you enjoy seeing a man get poo on his head. 

Yes! Poo on head is but one of the manifold wonders on display in this joyous trilogy of movies. There is so much casual wit and brilliance going on, we'd be here all day if we tried to talk about it all. 

Suffice to say, the first movie is a clockwork-perfect assemblage of delightful characters doing exciting things in the most satisfying of ways. The second film - though less substantial - plays exciting games with narrative and dances lightly around huge concepts. My happiest memory of the third film is of sitting back one Christmas Day Afternoon, full of dinner and trifle and wine, and Oh My God Back To The Future Three Is Just Starting! Cowboys and time travelling trains and even more poo on head! Bliss. 

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans

I can't remember anything about this film, really. I know I've seen it, because I have a vague, dark feeling in my mind when I think of it, like a memory trying to strangle itself. 

I don't think it was a bad film. In fact, I'm pretty sure I enjoyed it, in that way that you enjoy Nicolas Cage films. Which is to say, nervously and with a sense of giddy dread. But if there's a plot, it has not lodged in my mind, and my fingers have never paused over this DVD and considered a repeat viewing. 

I will. I'll do it.

When I'm in the mood. 

Bad Taste

Oh good grief, yes! Come on!

This is an astonishing piece of work. One of those films that is an absolute delight to show to someone who has never seen it. Because then you get to watch them gape in disbelief all the way through. Especially if you've told them it's by the guy who made Lord of the Rings. 

I first came across this film during the late 80s when my brother and I were on a mission to watch every horror film known to man. Even then, to teenage minds steeped in blood and monsters and exploding heads, even then this was absolutely off the charts. 

An ultra low budget tale of alien invasion, as if told by an excitable but intelligent 13 year old. Erupting, sometimes literally, with innovative ways to shock your eyes. Sheep explode, zombie aliens eat the brains of other zombie aliens... at one point a guy has to eat some blue sick. Peter Jackson has an expert's command of the language of cinema, but a total disregard for the rules of its acceptable use. 

This is amazing, and silly, and horrifying and nuts. And thus I have loved it for a very long time. 

Barbarella

I think I like the idea of Barbarella more than I like the actual film. She's super sexy, obviously, and there's a level of visual and narrative invention akin to that other great sci-fi kink-fest, Flash Gordon. But in all honesty, the concept of the film, and the memories of the good bits, are far better than the reality of watching the thing. 

It's a bit of a rag tag collection of wilfully gonzo set pieces, that don't have quite the conviction they need to entertain. I want to love it. It feels like the sort of film that should define me in many ways. And don't think I haven't kept glancing up at the lovely picture of the space lady all the way through writing this. 

But... there's something lacking. Maybe I'll watch it again and get it. That sometimes happens. And watching it again will surely be no hardship. 

Batman - The Movie

When we were little, my brother and I, we would spend quite a bit of time at the house of our Aunt May. Yes, very much like Spiderman. Except the closest we got to superhero action was when she let us watch repeats of the 60s Batman TV show. Which, being sensible young men, we absolutely loved. 

I have no real sense of seeing the movie as a separate entity, but it's a sure bet it found its way into the mix. I only watched it with a real sense of "Oh, here is that specific film" a few years ago, when teaching an evening class on film and critical theory. 

I thought it would be fun to compare the characterisation of the Joker to the Nicholson and Ledger versions. Turns out, there's not a great deal to say about this one. Where Nicholson exemplifies late 80s excess and Ledger digs deep into the heart of a fractured, post 9/11 sense of dislocation... this guy is just kind of a prick. 

Plus, right, he didn't even shave off his moustache! He just painted white stuff over it. What's that about? You'd never get into a Justice League movie with a moustache these days. 

Anyway. This film is surrounded by so many ironic, postmodern takes that it's hard to get a hold on it, for me. Suffice to say, I really like Adam West's voice. It's one of my favourites, up there with Patrick Stewart and Jenny Agutter. 

Batman Begins

A startling and exciting film which made a massive difference to superhero movies. But then it's sequel was better by several orders of magnitude, so it always seems a bit small as a result. A shame, as this is quite a piece of work. 

I was certainly very excited when I first saw it. I went in expecting the usual parents/alleyway/gunshot/pearls stuff. And then... whoosh! We're going up a mountain in the snow and he's got a beard and fighting monks! I was not expecting these things, and it delighted me. 

Watching it now, when Marvel has demonstrated just how much fun you can have with super-hero movies, it does seem a little earnest. And Nolan is far too keen to make this grown up and serious. "No, these bat ear things are very necessary because of science! And this is military armour! And this cape is actually the sort of thing everyone should be wearing, if we were sensible..."

Sadly, this attitude persists in the more recent DC films, and it is an unfortunate legacy. Nolan made this look easy. Everyone else trying to make superheroes real has instead made themselves look like idiots. 

Battle of the Sexes

Watched this on holiday. Can't remember much about it. Good actors, who I like a lot in other things. And are quite fine here, to be honest. But it didn't seem to have a very strong idea of what it wanted to be, outside of "a film that will make an excellent trailer." 

True stories very rarely make for good film narratives, in my opinion. Which explains why no-one has optioned the story of that time I met Midge Ure outside Bradford St. George's Hall. 

Battleship Potemkin

This is one of those films that I only own because I used to teach film editing. And when you read books about 'How to Teach Editing', because you don't actually know that much about it and there's only so long you can bluff your way through, those books always say "Oh, the editing in Battleship Potemkin! That's good! Do that!"

And then, if you're like me, you think, "Ah! Battleship Potemkin! I know that! It's got the thing with the pram on the steps that they reference in The Untouchables! Where Kevin Costner and his men are in the train station and they are waiting for gangsters! And there's a lady with a pram, pulling it up the stairs. And Kevin Costner looks all nervous, and then the bad guy sees him, and - WHOOSH- Kevin Costner swishes his coat aside and - WHOAH! - he's got a shotgun! And he shoots the guy and the pram starts falling down the stairs and Kevin Costner goes to grab it but - OH NO! - all the other gangsters start shooting at him! And then ANDY GARCIA comes running in and he does a slide and he CATCHES THE PRAM and shoots the bad guy in the head! Bam! Shoot! Yeah!"

What happens in Battleship Potemkin? No idea. Something about Russians?

A Beautiful Mind

Only seen this once. I was bought this by the girl I was going out with at the time and we watched it together. I was unhappy because I think I knew I'd made a mistake going out with her because she was quite, quite stifling. As a result, I have very negative feelings about it, not helped by the fact that it seems quite 'Oscar'y, and I often don't enjoy that. 

I should probably watch it again. I remember a good bit with him drawing on windows. And apparently Vision from The Avengers is in it, but I can't remember that at all. 

Beetlejuice

People love this film, don't they? I honestly don't know why. It's visually fun, I suppose. And it's good for playing "Spot the things Tim Burton has done to get himself mentioned in articles about the recurring motifs of Tim Burton."

But it all feels a bit underpowered, to me. I love Michael Keaton, but he's very much an actor who has become more interesting as he's got older. This wacky zany shit does nothing for me. 

I didn't really see this 'at the time', which may be part of it. So to some extent I taint it with my ever diminishing love for Tim Burton. Who used to be good, until about Planet of the Apes, and then became just tedious. 

Before Sunrise & Before Sunset

These films are great because they are: 

a) about recognisable and interesting facets of the human experience

b) visually relaxing

c) romantic

d) quite short, in terms of running time

I recommend them on this basis. 

Being John Malkovich

There was a period in 1999, 2000 when suddenly everyone started making amazing and interesting films. It was glorious and intoxicating. 

I was at a very enjoyable, chaotic point in my life too, with all sorts of possibilities swirling around me and no definite sense of quite who I was. Being John Malkovich -  a crazy mobius strip narrative about identity and obsession - was very much made for those times. 

This quirkiest of high concepts - man finds portal into the mind of John Malkovich - is set in the murkiest and most mundane of worlds. I don't always want to revisit it; like reading my diaries of that time, it brings about a strange mixture of excitement and horror at the place I inhabited.  

But it's quite something. 

Being There

I can't remember much about this. Peter Sellers plays a kind of vacant, childlike guy, who goes into the world and does remarkably well regardless. Like Todd from Bojack Horseman, or whichever politician you hate most at the moment. 

I can't remember how they sustain this seemingly dull premise for a couple of hours. I seem to recall having fond thoughts of it. I guess Peter Sellers is very engaging. 

Be Kind, Rewind

An excellent premise - two guys remake films on no budget - is quite entertaining for a bit,  but doesn't quite go the distance. This felt like the tail end of the excitement started by the Being John Malkovich wave. Good premise, but not really enough content to sustain an actual, y'know, film. 

Or so I recall. It's been a while. But every time I consider watching it, my brain says, "Don't."

What's with you brain? Don't you like art?

Brain?

Don't say no, brain. People are watching. 

Anyway. That's enough for now. See you next time for... more ramblings about films beginning with B. 

Previously: (Armageddon - Awakenings)

Next: (The Beyond - The Blues Brothers)

I Made You a Mixtape - Winter 1993

Back in the past, when I was thinner and people seemed less obviously racist, we had a thing called 'cassette tapes' and on those tapes lived wonderful music. 

I used to make a lot of mixtapes. Here, asked for by no-one, is a track by track account of one I made just before Christmas 1993. 

Don't ask "Why?" Does everything have to have a reason?

Should you wish to 'listen along', the tracks can be found in their entirely by clicking here. 

Or there's a kind of truncated version you can listen to here:

All For Love - Bryan Adams, Rod Stewart and Sting

We're instantly off to a terrible start. Why is this here? A leaden, plodding attempt to replicate the success of 'Everything I Do' from that Robin Hood film a couple of years previously.

My tastes at this point were generally fairly pedestrian. I think I was happy to be away from pretentious university proto-Hipsters, with their constant disdain for anything that might possibly appeal to people over 20. I liked a bit of Sting, U2 and Bon Jovi. But I think even I knew that this wasn't very good. 

I do remember a friend of ours, with the improbable name Ceri, reacting with absolute horror when I put this on one evening. She went into a very long deconstruction of all the reasons it didn't work, and made it very clear that I was an idiot for liking it. 

Though it must be said she was also angry with me for constantly trying it on with her sister. So there was that too. But in my defence, her sister had a very lovely face.

Drums of Heaven - Midnight Oil

This song starts with a frankly awful guitar sound, which I do not like. Wet and fuzzy and not the right way, in my opinion, to start a song. But it's OK, because when the whole ensemble gets going, everything comes together. 

This is a very well produced song, with lots of really interesting components that all charge along together. Like that convoy of mad vehicles in Mad Max: Fury Road - all different and ramshackle, but presenting a formidable whole as they lollop through the desert. 

I really like the piano that kicks in at about 2.42, swaggering in like an evil genius, and the way things build from there is formidable. Screaming, soaring guitars swoop above the song and massive power chords crash down... oh, it's so good. 

Yeah. I haven't grown out of rock. Good. 

Alive and Kicking - Simple Minds

Somewhere around this time I joined a club called 'Britannia Music'. This was like an early, much worse version of Spotify, where they would send CDs to your house every month and then it was your CD and you had to pay for it. Unless you remembered to cancel it. But you never did. 

I can't remember what the benefit of this was. Maybe the CDs were slightly cheaper? It seems insane now, doesn't it? Like going to a shop when you want to brush your teeth or something. But this was a time when I only had about seven CDs, and there was no internet, and so this seemed like a glorious innovation. 

Anyway. One of the CDs was the best of Simple Minds - somewhat conceitedly calling itself 'Glittering Prize', as if it had been brought back by Jason of the Argonauts as a sign that the gods were, indeed, benevolent and good. 

This song is frankly excellent. It is big and Summery and imbued with glorious melody. 

San Francisco Days - Chris Isaak

Another song that starts in a weird way. That solo vocal just sounds odd to me.

This is a pleasant song, though unremarkable. I had absolutely worshipped Wicked Game a few years before, and so bought this album without hearing anything off it. It's all very lovely and well produced, but it's basically music to be doing other things to. 

Oh dear. This is four mid tempo bloke-rock songs in a row. Any more of this and I'll have to start presenting Top Gear.

The Wild, the Beautiful and the Damned - Ultravox

Aha! Now this is more like it. 

Early Ultravox are amazing, and this song is amazing, and the world would be a better place if more things sounded like it. It has a harsh, discordant edge, with that ragged violin cutting through, but then this tender, fragile heart to the lyrics. 

This always made me feel beautifully lost, and confident, and free, and scared. It has lost none of its power in the many years since I first heard it. I still don't know what any of it means, or how these people decided to make these sounds.  I hope I never do. 

Every Little Thing She Does is Magic - The Police

This wasn't taken from my CD, if I recall. It was my housemate Andrew's, and I stole it because I was into Sting. And also to annoy Andrew. "Where's my CD?" he would bleat, as I chuckled and hid more of his things. Never did any washing up, Andrew. Not as a consequence of me stealing things. Just lazy.

This is an excellent pop song, and one which makes me wonder why I don't love The Police more. Partly, I guess, they just don't belong to me. I knew all their songs but, like most music in the 80s, it felt like music for the cool kids. And I was resolutely not one of them. 

The production's a bit weak, isn't it? This is a song which should sound vibrant and warm and exploding with lights. It comes close, but like a lot of Police, it sounds a bit distant. 

Great lyrics, though. He can write, that Mr. Sting. 

My Best Friend's Girl - The Cars

For. Goodness. Sake. Rob. What is going on? Are you trying to compile an album for people to buy when they suddenly realise it's nearly Father's Day? 

And why are there no women at all here? Were there no women in 1993? There surely must have been. If there weren't, it would have been on the news. 

Paths and Angles - Ultravox

In 1993 Ultravox - still then the big love of my musical life - released two CDs of B-sides and weird non-album stuff. They called these collections 'Rare 1' and 'Rare 2'. Which, you have to admit, fits perfectly with their carefully cultivated image of very precise, very boring people who somehow, nevertheless, make astonishing space music. 

I was  absolutely delighted with these releases and yummed them right up. 

Nowadays, when pretty much all music ever is available, and there's no such thing as a 'rarity', this sort of stuff doesn't seem as impressive. But back then this was an astonishing glimpse at unseen treasures. 

Listen to it! A weird, European labyrinth of beautiful nightmare sounds. This weird, atonal experience cracks open a door back to the early moments of me being a teenager, and first hearing music that sounded like the inside of my confused little mind.

The American - Simple Minds

I very much liked this at the time and I still love it now. If this was ever a big single, I missed it. And thus when it turned up on the 'Glittering Prize', it was fresh and unfamiliar. I'd heard most of the other stuff and it all seemed a bit samey. This distinguishes itself with a vocal that relies more on an overlapping, percussive vibe than on big sweeping melodies. 

I shouldn't have put this after Ultravox. There's some perfectly good synth work going on here, but coming after the austere genius of Paths and Angles, it seems like a dog playing a kazoo.

The Loveless - Billy Idol

Every time I redeem this compilation with something interesting, I sabotage it with something horrible like this. 

I've never been great at finding new music. and one thing that is clearly revealing itself here is an over-reliance on artists I used to like, but who have now totally run out of new ideas. 

Billy Idol has three great album: daft, extravagant things which kept me very happy in the late 80s. So here I am, trying to like his new, terribly boring album. And, worse, inflicting it on others. 

Every Breath You Take - The Police

A song so familiar it's almost redundant putting it on. All you have to do is think of it, and it will form perfectly in your mind, in all its stately majesty. But here it is, and I must say it's very nice to hear after that Billy Idol dirge. That main guitar part is godlike, the construction of the song itself elegant. Powerful enough to remain a thing of beauty, no matter how many idiots play it for the first dance at their wedding, because they haven't realised it's massively inappropriate.

Or maybe that's how their relationship rolls, I suppose. Murderous obsession and probable police involvement, followed by mutual orgasm. I shouldn't make assumptions. 

Come Undone - Duran Duran

The third best song on Duran Duran's 'Wedding Album', made great mainly by that kick ass guitar sound. 

The Durans are an exception to the trend of this compilation, in that I didn't really care for them in the 80s (too scratchy on the guitars, plus all that dicking about on boats), but then I heard this album and was totally won over. 

There was a thing, wasn't there, in the 80s, of young energetic pop boys having to work out how to grow old. And the answer was almost always "Go slower and more boring". This album is a proper maturing of musical sensibility, and very rewarding.

Love is a Long Road - Tom Petty

This CD wasn't mine either... I wonder who I stole this from? Probably Andrew as well. As I gleefully put together this mixtape in my freezing attic room, he will have been sitting alone in his room with nothing to listen to but the sound of his own desolate thoughts. Perhaps that's why he committed those murders?

Just kidding, obviously.

This is a terrific song, precision tooled for driving along a big desert highway. Well, Mr. Tom Petty, I used it to soundtrack my trips to Morrisons and - occasionally - my parents' house in Bradford. I hope it brings you some comfort to know that it made those bleak journeys about 13% more exotic.

Cradle of Love - Billy Idol

More Billy Idol, I'm afraid. This really is intolerable. 

Why don't I own Rebel Yell at this point? Or anything, really, from the first three albums? I must have spent money on this wretched thing. So why not buy, at the very least, a "Best Of" or something?

I suppose I was quite poor. I was still working at the Laserquest, and this was barely enough wage to survive on. And I will bet with huge confidence that this CD was massively discounted within seconds of being released.

There's a nice quiet bit in the middle, which almost makes sense of this song. Just make an album of that, Billy Idol. 

Outbreak of Love - Midnight Oil

Another 'of love' song. I'm not massively in love, here in the Winter of 1993. I have a GF, from college, but that relationship has settled by this point into background noise. 

Music like this is, at 22, what I want love to be. A mad, passionate, indescribable eruption of dazzling and unpredictable joy. Although I think this song also knows that within that joy is contained the seeds of the decay that starts almost the second love begins. 

The music here perfectly captures that sad beauty, as it unfolds like a flower and collapses like a dream. Wonderful. I forgive myself for the Billy Idol. 

Just For a Moment - Ultravox

Right - this is proper stuff. This is music that pretty much defines who I am. Or who I want to be.

I love the sparseness and weirdness of the instrumentation. I love the distant, spooky vocals. I love the way it attempts to articulate something slightly unknowable and untouchable. 

I love the warmth that floods in for the final verse. I love that the instruments sound like voices and the voices sound like machines and I can't tell the difference. 

I love this song and if people don't like it, well... I put up with it. Because lots of people don't like it, and I'm not so popular I get to be picky.

But imagine if they did like it. What then?

Seven Days - Sting

Another incredible piece of music from Ten Summoner's Tales, an album that would - for many lesser artists - be their Greatest Hits. A clever lyric, a slightly show-offy time signature that works really well, and some lush guitar sounds. 

This mixtape is making a late bid for becoming brilliant. Who's betting it all goes wrong for the last couple of songs?

Move Along - Chris Isaak

Yeah... this is fine, I guess. It comes really nicely out of the last song and has some pretty good dynamics. But it's hard to really engage with Chris Isaak when he's singing about being lonely and sad. Have you seen his face? It's like Jesus carved his cheekbones out of wishes and masculinity. He smoulders with such beauty, it's impossible to imagine him being lonely for longer than the time it takes Netflix to log in.

Anyway. This is quite a good bit of atmospheric soul searching, with a seductive groove. And then - inexplicably - a batshit organ bit at the end which absolutely delights me and is, now I come to think of it, the reason I put this on here. 

Call of the Wild - Midge Ure

And from the sexiest man in the world to someone much more my speed. I love you, Midge Ure, but I can't imagine that very many women bang their heads against walls screaming "I must have him or my soul will perish!"

I very much like this song, though it should have come much earlier on in proceedings. It's all a bit lightweight. Midge is relying a little too much on wishy washy guitar overdrive at this stage, in my opinion, and not foregrounding the synths as he surely should be if this was a sane universe.

My main memory of this song is not from 1993 but from 1987. I had my first Walkman, and wandered alone one Summer evening, listening to this and feeling the true pleasure of being by myself and beholden to no-one. It doesn't matter how uncool the music is if you're alone, you see. You can just enjoy it. 

Love is Stronger than Justice (live) - Sting

On the original mixtape, this only lasted for about 30 seconds. I had a little tape left, and thought this would be good to make up the distance. 

I was under the incorrect impression that this was not a great song. Too complicated for me, I think, and too ridiculous in its premise. 

I'm very stupid sometimes. 

Well, that's the end of that. It was, I'm sure you'll agree, mostly awful. But the good bits were worth it, I think, and we all learned an awful lot about the importance of friendship, and of really committing to a strong electronic signature if you want to impress me at age 22.

Go back in time to Autumn 1993

Or forward to Spring 1994

Wake Up

Wake Up

A poem for Wakefield. 

There’s a first time you hear a word

A brief, crazy time when that word drifts free

With all its spikes wobbles and and curves

A moment where it bobs around

Loose of meaning

Just a sound

Just a thing unto itself

Alive

It doesn’t last long

Words solidify

Form themselves around meanings and objects and emotions and items of furniture

And sort of die

Associations capture sounds in sticky webs

The thrilling nonsense of dancing consonants and vowels

Calcifies into everyday usage

Becomes functional

And you forget, for the most part

That first time, when they were just a glorious noise

However

I do remember where I was when I first heard the word 

Wakefield

It sounded so mysterious

I was ten, I think, and in tremendous pain.

I’d fallen onto concrete, through a roof, 

And though confused I remember a grown up saying

“We need to get these kids to Pinderfields,

In Wakefield”

Wakefield! Place of healing. Far away. 

It sounded flat, and dark, and grey.

Get these kids to Wakefield!

Rewind a bit. 

These kids? What kids?

What kids have tumbled through a roof?

What kind of roof can a kid tumble through?

Roofs are solid, surely?

This one wasn’t.

Not entirely.

It was the roof of a garage that belonged to my friend John

Or more precisely to his father, his progenitor

Except it wasn’t a roof of a garage

Because we were Blake’s 7

And this was the flight deck of the starship Liberator

Blake’s 7 is a TV series from 1981

It’s set in space

We were pretending to be Blakes 7. In space.

I say Blake’s 7

I didn’t have six mates

Blake’s 3. 

Four if you count the milk crate

Which to all intents and purposes

Played ORAC

ORAC was the computer in Blake’s 7

He was the same shape as a milk crate

We were ten. Leave me alone.

Who’s we? you ask, delighted at my tale

Despite its lack of evident structure   

It was me and John and Lisa

That’s who

John was my friend and Lisa was his sister

Though it was only me and Lisa who went tumbling through

Because it turns out we weren’t sitting on a roof

We were sitting on a window covered with a sheet

Which just looked like a roof

But sadly, for Lisa and me, lacked the robust, child supporting qualities

You would have got from a roof

I hurt my back, I was otherwise fine 

Lisa fractured her skull so I assumed she was dying

And that’s why she had to go

To Wakefield

Lisa went to Wakefield and got her head fixed

My friendship with John was gone by 1986

We moved on, we grew up

I became friends with Paul

Blake’s 7 was cancelled after series four

And when I was 21 I moved to the town

That first spoke its name when I was

Lying in pain on the ground 

And it’s where I have stayed

And it’s where I lie now

I am lost and I’m found there

And my fracture remains

And this random word, “Wakefield”, has settled to mean 

“I am home in this place”