I won’t comment on the state of my life, currently containing the giant, pink, rapping jellyfish. Not because I think it would be a motion of hypocrisy, which it would, but because of what may be coming next, which will be an event that no part of the universe shall have a strong enough cringe for.
I really shouldn’t attempt this. I’m more comfortable with cups of tea and a good book, densely populated with lots of running about and sonic-ing. The most “street” I ever get is when I’m dancing down one, listening to music that doesn’t believe the 1980s ended.
Unfortunately, that hasn’t stopped the physical me from grabbing the mic anyway. Womble, as far as I can tell, is in some sort of meditative state and- more importantly -isn’t doing anything. Perhaps that opener was all he had in him. Or he’s taking a long time to warm up.
Regardless, we’re getting wrecked if one of us doesn’t start soon. Call it peer-pressure. Or maybe a desire to try something new, and altogether, galaxies out of my comfort zone.
Get ready to face-palm, kids. Grandad’s going in.
“Yo Jellyman, pink dude, listen up/compared to me you’re just a neon pup/you act like you got the age to show it/but stow it man, you’re tiny, I know it.
I’ve seen the light fantastic/the Kesel Run, I thrashed it/You wanna see the Heart of Gold?/It’s long gone, dude, I crashed it.
I’ve seen galaxies and fallacies and giant bees and cedar trees/I walked the Earth, I got there first, boring hell, just the worst/I’ve seen universes, leather purses, on my feet, my converses/I’ll be here til the end of time or until I wanna end this rhyme.
I got more numbers in my age than you got brain cells in your brain/even had the time for a second name/even if they’re both a little lame, hey.
You wanna step back/getting knocked by this track/it’s a rap-battle-smack/quit this, kid, you’re a hack.
Cos I’m HH, Timelord, seen more than you can dream/even in this man-slash-penguin team/our experience would make you scream.
Stop blocking off our way/live to see another day/that’s the advice that I shall pay/cos it’s all I got to say.”
*I take full responsibility for any readers that gouged out their eyes rather than experience any more of a millennium-old-fogey trying his hand at modern music. Just a shame that they won’t be able to read this.