I use the best
I use the rest
I use the enemy I use anarchy

Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody poor Are we just another country Another council tenancy

When there’s no future
How can there be sin
I mean it man:
Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves! Briton never shall be slaves.

–

he was a pretty-boy
at first sight I was thinking backs to the wall girl!
yeh know, chutney ferret!

but after a bit of him givin me the glad eye from across the pub I changed me mind

what a bit of stuff he was bags I went right over like and put one on him without sayin a word

it was brilliant like

arse over tit for him I was he was box clever
real clued up

was a while, since I got off with someone yeh know, got my end away!
had a bit of a fluff, a while ago, but didn’t last so I was a bit of a spare

I was gagging for it
got him in me room
got his kick off
down to our under crackers we were

stood there all hands and shite him on me paps and neck
me pitching his tent

then off comes the alans an what a brilliant donger! A real prize!

onto the bed
getting off into a tangle
his chopper bringing it off right me diddies in a swing
toppin his lap
carrying on on all fours
sweatin and laughing like

oh, he was a good roll “give it some welly boy!”

“give it some welly!”
he brought me off good and quick! and stayed around for some more

yeh he was a bit of all right
a real good one to bunk with for a night.

WILL

Shite, naybody spoke She was goin’ doun
a monarchy sad as feck

Me sitting pleased as shite Watchin on the telly Another old girl gone doun

So anyway, I’m feckin sick of it Is this the M.P.L.A.?
Or the U.D.A.?
Or the I.R.A.?

It thought it was the U.K.!

Aye, I’ve gone an said it. Nah, I shouldnay
But feck the Queen anywhy Yeh, feck the Queen anywhy

God save yer own bloady mad parade
God save yer own god damned Englands Dreaming God save yer own bloady shat sod arse

Don’t try feck all
Cause God will save his damn Queen God saves his damn Queen
Little room fer a sod like ye and me

Nay, I know shouldnay
There’s gonna be hell to pay
I’ll burn fre sher they say
Taken them all in curse like that

But feck em anywhy
Feck ye all anywhy
Yeh, feck the Queen anywhy

I know what’ll ye wehl say: Mind what ye say!
Nah, ye shouldnay!
But feck ye all anywhy

I mean it man, feckin hell Don’t try feck all
cause they made you a moron Potential a-bomb

They made you love her man cuz tourists are money
cuz yer god have mercy
cuz it’s the only way to be

I mean it man, feckin hell Don’t try feck all
Cause there’s nay future Nay future fer ye

Nay future, nay future fer me

That’s right, I’m feckin sick of it Sad as fuck it is
An I know what ye’ll say:
Mind what ye say!

But fecken hell anywhy Yeh, feck it:
Feck the Queen anywhy! An feck what ye’ll say!

AND FATE

Newcastle United Football Team Song (to the tune of ‘Daydream Believer’)

Barnet Football Team Song
(to the tune of ‘Don’t Cry For Me Argentina’)

FIXED FATE

(instrumental)

FREE WILL

Arm yourselves men of valor Be in readiness for us to perish Our nation and our altar

Offer but blood
Toil, tears and sweat

Still masters of our fate
A child of the House of Commons Brought up to believe in democracy

I cannot help reflecting I cannot help
I cannot

Men are proud to be the servants Of State
Ashamed to be it’s masters

This was their finest hour
Never in the field of human conflict Was so much owed
By so many
To so few
So many
So few

This is not the end
But perhaps it’s the end of the beginning The beginning of the end
The beginning of the end

This is the war of the unknown warriors We shall fight on the beaches
We shall fight on the landing grounds We shall fight in the fields

In the streets
In the hills
We shall never surrender

Never give in-never, never, never, never! In nothing great or small, large of petty Never yield to force

Or the overwhelming might of the enemy Never, never, never, never…

FOREKNOWLEDGE ABSOLUTE

bolady Nora!
I missed the bastarding show again on the telly, the Beep
boched me fecken plan

so I calls up me mate Cara
and we decide to go arse-about for a few just a few

the Britneys were flowing and we get chin wagging

Cara is a bit of a blooming idiot she’s one of me bezzy mates
take the piss out of eachother we do

and here comes the boss-eyed pervy common as muck: bloady prannet! Mr Action man!
billy no mates!

all mouth no trousers
stands there borin the tits off us bangin on about every bastarding detail of his feckin bleeding life thick as pig shite he is
poucing about like an barmcake

“crimp off a length of yr rubbish elsewhere” come out of Cara
you wouldn’t twatting believe it
she dropped a clanger there.

all to cock we were yelling an goin on

three sheets to the wind
and getting a build-on in the throne
we sparked the chunder and chonge on it till fully bollocksed

we were twatfaced!
bevvied up and tear-arsing around the club with the beer goggles on
twatting boxed we were!
ballsed-up bladdered!
trolley-blunted!

half way through
Cara started driving the porcelain bus so I put her in a car and sent her off

I caught my hold with a few lines of Charley

and then he came on bump starting the party with a great starter set

oh, it was brillian as fuck!
I was a firecracker goin off
dancing and spinnin round
I was grand as feck on that dance floor

got on in to it

the beats were bringing me off there was no stopin it
I was the air
I was the music

it was me whole fucking life coming off on that moment
the feckin whole place was coming off building with real clued-up DJ

coming round brining us all around

it was a bloody great time! a bloody great time…

AND FOUND NO END

V1 I’m a feelin’ a bit o’ weakness in the knees V2 A bit of a wobble-on?
V1 Week in the knees is all.
V2 Is yeh’ bein’ metaporic love?

V1 Nay love, quite specific like.
V2 Are yeh’ talkin’ for the nation or yerself?
V1 A bit of the both.
V2 I’d – venture tis’ the same.
V1 Finished or what?
V2 Are yea talking bout us, or it?
V1 The thing love… the bloody thing!
V2 The goings on yeh mean?
V1 All the great bloody British shite- end of the nation an ol’
V2 It is over… I’d think.
V1 We’ll I’ve got little else to say.
V2 Nay shite… right bout’ that!

IN WANDERING MAZE LOST

(God save the Queen/King)

RULE BRITANNIA: a low opera in grand shite style

Writing, Directing and Music Composition: Kenneth Doren
Mezzo Soprano: Patrice Jegou
Libretto: Carl Ayling

Pianists: Joseph Ferretti, Elaine Lau, Jane Wood, Stephanie Chua
Music Transcription: Matt Firmston Videography and Editing: Kenneth Doren Technical support: Martin Eckart

1 Overture
2 Of Providence
3 Foreknowledge
4 Will
5 And Fate
6 Fixed Fate
7 Free Will
8 Foreknowledge Absolute 9 And Found No End &

In Wandering Maze Lost

OVERTURE

OF PROVIDENCE

V1 Bollocksed.
V2 Done!
V1 Pathetic.
V2 Sad as shite.
V1 Buggerd it right.
V2 Thought we were so clued up. V1 Bothched up more like.

V2 Bodged… bleeding bodged!
V1 We’ve a right to cob on about it.
V2 Argue the toss if we bloody want!
V1 Bang on…
V2 It’s a bit of in the air…
V1 – Had our day.
V2 – An a bit of more.
V1 Bloody right we did.
V2 We fecken ruled.
V1 Determined the future of bloody nations.
V2 That’s the stuff.
V1 We crippled the fecken crippled piled the bodies centuries high.
V2 To right!
V1 Rule the waves we did.
V2 By bloody sword, an’ cross an’…
V1 – bloody air!
V2 – bloody air – dropped terror from the skies-
V1 – and lye mark.
V2 – we reined.
V1 – Ruled.
V2 – We ruled.
V1 – made civil nations.
V2 – made nations.
V1 – had a bit of a time with history.
V2 – bit of a spree.
V1 – bit of tyranny.
V2 Well shite THE CUT WORM FORGIVES THE PLOUGH!

V1 We bloody hope it does.
V2 Yes, the road to excess leads to wisdom.
V1 Yes, the bastarding nation of the bloody clued up.
V2 Brilliant…
V1 To say the least…
V2 Bleeding brilliant like…
V1 Like I said.
V2 We heard yea.
V1 Well I hope yeah heard me.
V2 Did…
V1 Well I hope so.
V2 Did…
V1 Britannia ruled – it fecken ruled… and none of you would know it as it is if we didn’t.
V2 Bloody rights.
V1 That’s box clever.
V2 You said it.
V1 We had our day so you could have all this.
V2 You already said that.
V1 Well it’s worth saying again…
V2 To right… To right.

FOREKNOWLEDGE

Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody poor

Our leaders march with fuses And we with hand grenades God save your mad parade All crimes are paid

And guardian angels sung the strain Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves! Briton never shall be slaves.

Tore its chords asunder
No chains shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and bravery Songs made for the pure and free

Still with freedom found
Thy happy coast repair
Hearts to guard the fair
Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves! Briton never shall be slaves.

Oh God save history
Oh lord God have mercy

I vow to thee my country
All earthly things above Entire and whole and perfect The service of my love

Oh God save history
Oh lord God have mercy There’s no future no future

We’re the flowers in the dustbin
We’re the poison in your human machine We’re the future you’re future
England’s dreaming