Gimmix - John Cooper Clarke, The Prime Time Suckers

Hey Jimmy, gimme the gimmix

Another day — another fad

Funk, yes, even for a minute

They’re not bad — dad

From the barmy days of the hoola hoop craze

To the skate board panic of today

Amused, amazed, aghast we gaze

We don’t get in the way

Tune in the idle chatter

Turn a blind eye to the scream

At the shatter proof heart of the matter

Things are as they seem

Mahatma Gandhi’s loin cloth

The cosa nostra kiss

Cola cans and coin-op cops

Amphetamine psychosis

Sick, sick, sick, or something

Talk is cheap and loud

Dying of consumption

Join the lonely crowd

Look inside the freezer

Watch the pop up toaster pop

The blinking Mona Lisa

Is blinking at me non stop

Beauty aids, commodity art

And things that are for things

Tea’s Maids, cushions that fart

The Lord of the Rings

Let’s hear both sides of the story

Please don’t put me on

Trial by Juke Box Jury

They send me, I’m gone

Chicken runs will sort out

The sheep from the proverbial goats

Speed’s in, Sport’s out

We will not be approached

Caught in the metal of a straight career

Wn a bent assembly line

Looking younger than last year

Marching men mark time

Boy next door seeks girlfriend

Outdoor type seeks fun

Swim, sing, cycle and swing

No matter what time of the month

Stereotypical playmates

Supplied and not get bored

With impotent anxiety states

Collectively called the norm

In ideal homes where missing persons

Appear and disappear

The sound of iron curtains

Cuts the atmosphere

What’s going on behind the green door

The war, the watusi, or what

The condition of admission is a haircut

A Tony Curtis or a Cooper Clar-ar-ar-ar-ar