the eternal mysteries
The open road with Lil and a car called Esmerelda.
I am singing a song by legendary 1960's musician Donovan Leitch.
My voice is tuneful and cheerful, lacking that plaintive note some of you have come to know and love, which kicks in when I'm singing Kate Nash songs.
Today's song goes:
"Oh the intergalactic laxative,
Will get you from here to there,
Relieve you, and believe me,
Without a worry or care.
If shi--ing is your problem,
When you're out there in the stars,
Oh the intergalactic laxative, the intergalactic laxative,
The intergalactic laxative,
Will get you from here to Mars."
There was a moment's respectful silence when I'd finished this fine paean to modern technology. Presently the lady known as Lil spoke.
"How do they do it?" she wondered.
"Who?" sez I.
"Astronauts," sez she.
"Do what?" sez I.
"Go to the toilet," sez she.
I answer her with another burst from the immortal Donovan. Clearly gentle travellers of the internet, we might reasonably conclude that my youth has been somewhat misspent since I can apparently recall at will the entire lyrics to songs like this.
Dammit all.
I bet even Donovan couldn't sing these next verses off the cuff.
With strange high passion I sing:
"They don't partake like you and I
Of beefy burgher mush.
Their food is specially prepared,
To dissolve into slush.
Aborbed by multi fibres
In their super diaper suit.
Otherwise the slush would trickle
Down inside the boot.
...Oh the intergalactic laxative will get you from here to there.
Relieve you and believe me, without a worry or care.
If shi--ing is your problem when you're out there in the stars,
The intergalactic laxative will get you from here to Mars...
You may well ask,
Now what becomes
Of liquids they consume?
A pipe is led
From penis head,
To a unit in the room.
The water is recirculated
Filtered for reuse
In case some anti gravity
Pee gets on the loose."
There is a another silence. I wait expectantly. And wait. And wait.
What am I waiting for?
Applause maybe.
It does not arrive.
You know bold readers, I still say this song represents Donovan Leitch's finest hour.
But apparently not mine.
I am singing a song by legendary 1960's musician Donovan Leitch.
My voice is tuneful and cheerful, lacking that plaintive note some of you have come to know and love, which kicks in when I'm singing Kate Nash songs.
Today's song goes:
"Oh the intergalactic laxative,
Will get you from here to there,
Relieve you, and believe me,
Without a worry or care.
If shi--ing is your problem,
When you're out there in the stars,
Oh the intergalactic laxative, the intergalactic laxative,
The intergalactic laxative,
Will get you from here to Mars."
There was a moment's respectful silence when I'd finished this fine paean to modern technology. Presently the lady known as Lil spoke.
"How do they do it?" she wondered.
"Who?" sez I.
"Astronauts," sez she.
"Do what?" sez I.
"Go to the toilet," sez she.
I answer her with another burst from the immortal Donovan. Clearly gentle travellers of the internet, we might reasonably conclude that my youth has been somewhat misspent since I can apparently recall at will the entire lyrics to songs like this.
Dammit all.
I bet even Donovan couldn't sing these next verses off the cuff.
With strange high passion I sing:
"They don't partake like you and I
Of beefy burgher mush.
Their food is specially prepared,
To dissolve into slush.
Aborbed by multi fibres
In their super diaper suit.
Otherwise the slush would trickle
Down inside the boot.
...Oh the intergalactic laxative will get you from here to there.
Relieve you and believe me, without a worry or care.
If shi--ing is your problem when you're out there in the stars,
The intergalactic laxative will get you from here to Mars...
You may well ask,
Now what becomes
Of liquids they consume?
A pipe is led
From penis head,
To a unit in the room.
The water is recirculated
Filtered for reuse
In case some anti gravity
Pee gets on the loose."
There is a another silence. I wait expectantly. And wait. And wait.
What am I waiting for?
Applause maybe.
It does not arrive.
You know bold readers, I still say this song represents Donovan Leitch's finest hour.
But apparently not mine.
posted by heelers | 1:48 AM
2 Comments:
No....clearly her next question was going to be 'and how do women astronauts go to the toilet in space?' followed by, 'and how do they poo?' -does Donavon have an answer to that hmmmm?
I think we should be told.
Heelz.
Marvellous blog.
Sublime is not the word.
Well, actually, I suppose sublime is the word.
My privilege then to offer the mighty one a few mild correctives.
Great Heelers, you got some of my lyrics mixed up.
It's:
"They don't partake like you and I,
Of beefy burgher mush.
Their food is specially prepared,
To dissolve into slush.
Absorbed by multi fibres,
In the super diaper suit,
Otherwise the slush would trickle,
Down inside the boot."
And then:
"You may well ask now what becomes,
Of liquids they consume.
A pipe is led,
From penis head,
To a unit in the room.
The water is recirculated,
Filtered for reuse.
In case some anti gravity,
Pee gets on the lose."
Also I wouldn't mind if you'd quoted the last verse which many music fans consider the best bit:
"Wherever man has conquered,
In his quest for frontiers new,
Da-da-dah,
I'm glad he's always had to do,
The number one and two.
It makes it all so ordinary,
Just like you and me,
To know the greatest heros,
They had to shit and pee."
Thanks for bringing back some great memories Heelers. Did you know I lived in your home town of Kilcullen at one stage in the house now owned by Sir Anthony O'Reilly? It's true.
And yes, I was indeed a legend in the 1960's. But The Intergalactic Laxative is from 1973.
Respectfully,
Donovan.
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