Staff Top 10
Top Ten Half Man Half Biscuit Lyrics

umber Ten

Henry Rollins, Henry Rollins
You’re hard, you’re hard.
(“You’re Hard”)

Oddly enough, if you IMDB the name “Henry Rollins”, one of the suggestions that comes up is “Sir Henry At Rawlinson End”, the post-Bonzo Dog Band weird thing from dead quasi-genius strawberry blonde Vivian Stanshall. Henry Rollins has never done anything as good as “The Intro and The Outro” by The Bonzo Dog Band, which is possibly the greatest song recorded in the 1960s. Instead, he has appeared in an episode of The Drew Carey Show, with the character name “E-Bay Ass Kicking Guy”. He also hosted the international version of Scrapheap Challenge, competed in each episode by a British team, an American team, and a team from a country that didn’t actually fund the series. Of course, what with it being hosted by Mr Rollins, it was EXTREME. This EXTREMENESS manifested itself by Rollins shouting. A lot.

He was also in Jackass: The Movie, driving an offroad vehicle. Was Colin McRae busy?


The Y is for Yate, the kind of town referees come from.
(“The Referees’ Alphabet”)

Despite this song’s claim, there are no current referees in the English football league registered as coming from Yate. However, there are referees that originate from Woodindean, Shotley Bridge, Thatcham, and Peterlee. All of these sound like the sort of piss-poor train stations that you have to stop off at when leaving any British major city, such as Birmingham or Liverpool. I mean, Liverpool. Seriously. How many people actually need to get off at “Waverlee Industrial Park”, or whatever it’s called? Have these people never heard of buses? The sole professional referee in the UK from my hometown of Northampton is Richard Beeby. He looks like this:


She stayed with me until she moved to Notting Hill,
She said it was the place she had to be,
Where the cocaine is fair trade and frequently displayed,
Is the Buena Vista Social Club CD.
(“The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Is The Light of An Oncoming Train)”

This is a song we can all relate to. It’s about waking up one day and realising that your girlfriend has gone middle class (also see, kinda, “Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads?”). As such, it namechecks both Eva Cassidy and Sylvia Plath. Well, it would. Far be it from me to hate the middle classes, but, mein gott, they are mad ghey.


And what I call pleasure you might call pain,
I'm talking 5 day tests.
(“Them’s The Vagaries”)

This is about cricket, for all you Americans out there, the popular mind-numbing sport played only by people that the British made slaves out of. A five day test is a cricket match that goes on for five days. Yes, that is as thrilling as it sounds. My mate works at Northants County Cricket ground doing barwork every now and then. He hasn’t had a proper job since leaving the sixth form, nearly three years ago. He was actually going to go to university, but he overslept on induction day, and then decided not to bother. He got his student loan out of it, though.


I keep well away from places where they tend to wear
Glasses I am certain they don't really need to wear

Yeah, I’m a sellout. I recently switched from glasses to contacts. I know, I know. But, look- good glasses can only be worn by people with actually good eyesight. Take emo specs. Fagariffic, but enough to wet a certain type of girl’s sponge at fifty paces. Now, because the frames for these are so small, they cannot be worn by someone who’s eyesight is basically a step up from Stevie Wonder’s. So, if I am to wear glasses, as I’ve been doing since I was four, I have to wear, basically, shit-frames. So I’ve gone to contacts. This has the result of making my face look further away. A vague acquaintance of mine has refused to talk to me or even acknowledge my existence since I suggested to her that her emo specs actually made her look like a Suicide Girl.


Oh tip-toe
To the front row
Of the KoRn show
With a submachine gun
(“It Makes The Room Look Bigger”)

My ex-girlfriend, Luce (“I think her name must be Lucy cuz they…” etc etc) was, whilst we were dating, a big fan of Jonny Davis and his Korns. I was then, and still am, an aficionado of Hole. So, if we were walking around in clothing representative of our favoured bands, sometimes it read “KoRn Hole”. Ho ho ho. So, anyway, I hit her up over MSN and asked her if she could say something interesting about KoRn for this article.

i bet you dont know how to spell contradiction i bet you dont know how to sell conviction says:
theres a guy called head cuz hes got a big head

i bet you dont know how to spell contradiction i bet you dont know how to sell conviction says:
and a guy called monkey cuz he looks like a monkey

Well, that’s cleared that up then.


You may find me homeless on the A47
shouting out to passers-by that Alan Brazil
Seems to be the singer of the Goombay Dance Band
(“Our Tune”)

The Goombay Dance Band are that rare thing, a perfect one-hit wonder: just a solitary #1 single, and then never to make an appearance in the top forty singles ever again. Alan Brazil, on the other hand, currently runs a racehorse stakes program. This is what he’s got to say about the whole shebang on his webpage:

" Every day on my radio show, in the street and on the track I talk to people who, like me, love racing - The Sport of Kings. I am determined to ensure that the Alan Brazil Horse Racing Club will provide an unbelievably successful, affordable and (most importantly!) enjoyable involvement in the world of horse racing ! Only the world’s richest can play this game at the highest level.... but you never know !! Collectively we have the opportunity to take on the best and WIN !! "

Well, that’s cleared that up then.


a woman who described herself as "a little bit Bridget, a little bit Ally, a little bit Sex In The City" and chose to call her baby boy Fred as a childishly rebellious attempt at a clever reaction to those who might have expected her to call him Julian or Rupert. Bit of advice: call him Rupert. It fits, and besides, its a good name. Don't be calling him Fred or Archie with all its cheeky-but-loveable working-class scamp connotations unless you really do have plans for him to spend his life in William Hill waiting them to weigh in at Newton Abbott.
(“Breaking News”)

I don’t use William Hill. Ever. They shortchanged me once. Haven’t been back since. I use a place called Fred Done’s, it’s a localised northern bookmakers. Good odds, clean betting area, no soft drink dispensers though. True gambling fans say that these places have never been the same since they put the roulette machines in. I sometimes see the kid who bullied me when I was in lower school in one of the Tote bookmakers in Northampton. Dude knows how to pick a trifecta.


I've been goading D-list Paul Ross for a laugh
By unloading outside what he'd call his gaff
Old fridge freezers, doors all removed like we're told.
His face at the window on waking a sight to behold.
(“Tyrolean Knockabout”)

Apparently Paul Ross’ real name is Jonathan Ross, and Jonathan Ross’ real name is Paul Ross. Could be an urban myth, I’m not motivated enough to research as such. Paul Ross is a cunt, though, the least famous man in Britain. If you’re playing degrees of separation, he is linked to Stylus’ own William B Swygart by two degrees. A shiny penny to anyone who knows what those links are.


Mention Lord of the Rings just one more time and I’ll more than likely kill you
(“Dickie Davies Eyes”)

Seriously, someone on my MSN list had, on January 1st, the username “The Queen of Gondor Wishes You A Happy New Year!”. I mean, wtf? Her usernames have drifted in previous weeks between “I love my boyfriend” to “I hate my boyfriend”, which seemingly only last for four seconds before being replaced by “I work hard, me”. She’s probably reading this article. Hey B. But, yeah, Lord of the Rings is shit. “Mortal Kombat meets the Tellytubbies”, as my gambling partner pointed out. I think we can end it there.

By: Dom Passantino

Log In to Post Comments
Posted 02/25/2004 - 01:43:50 PM by NickSouthall:
 Brilliant, as ever.
all content copyright 2004