THE JITTERBUG ADDRESS

Four scored years ago, or was it four and twenty? Or was that blackbirds? A long time ago, when the pie was first opened, my forefathers, cause I had forefathers, only one mother, she was a peach! So my fourth father told me. Not personally, cause I never met the man. But I’ve seen pictures of my mother and trust me she was a peach! I’m told I’ve got her feet. My uncle told me. I had lots of uncles and they all had big feet. Not four feet. Foreheads, they all had foreheads. But, hey, we’ve all got foreheads, even if we haven’t got one brain between us…

There was a Hebrew,(a Jew), a Greek and an Assyrian, turned up one night in the foreign-quarter. There was an orgiastic festival going on in the streets, everybody ripping goats to pieces and drinking the blood. “What the hell is going on!?” said the Jew, the Hebrew. “You’ll need to ask the rabbi”, said the Greek. “I think Christians have to sort their own problems out”, said the Assyrian.

So anyway, where was I?

Four score and twenty blackbirds ago a woman had a dream. I had a dream. Maybe it was the same dream? maybe it was the same woman? Which came first, the woman or the dream?

He was a lively sort of chap, a bit of a lad was Brian! Always ravishing virgins and leaving the mess for somebody else to clean up. Everybody always said he was heading straight bto Hell. He really loved ripping goats to pieces and drinking the blood. When he dad died he inherited a fortune and there was no holding him back. Polite society could stand it no more, he was picking fights just for the un-political incorrectness of it. In the end the local vicar convinced him he’d be better-off breaking bread and heads in the Holy Land, where at least the heathens deserved everything they got. remember this was the middle-ages. He was thirty-four at the time. If he was going to hell he may as well get there in the name of Heaven. So off he went, ripping apart everything in sight! And thus did he become famous as the great good God-fearing Christian crusader Brian- of- the- Red Sleeves!

When the pie was opened the whole world began to sing! The same song. Can you imagine the whole world singing the same song. Obviously Sir Paul McCartney could. But everybody is singing in different keys. Some are singing it kinda bluesy, others honky-tonk, funky disco. But they are all singing the same song. With different words. Not everybody is singing in the same language. But it’s the same song. Same dream. same woman. same world. Same beat, sorta like a tom-tom with double-bass on Mocha Latte Cappuccinos…

Meanwhile the Greek guy keeps insisting that the dead are rising from their graves. The Hebrew, the Jew keeps insisting we are all but dogs who have lost their master. “this is one hell of a dream!” insists the Assyrian, who was suddenly feeling very lost in the wrong half of the foreign quarter. “What if I never wake up? What if it will always be a dream? Everybody looks like they’re in a dream. What if we’re all in the same dream? And I’m dreaming that the whole world is watching me in my dream, or at least my version of their dream???

Eventually Brian-of-the-Red-Sleeves returned to his homeland, very much richer and surprisingly un-leprosied, and was immediately consecrated an Earl for all his troublesome pleasures and other peoples’ pains : the Earl of Bloodstains! Admired, feared and dutifully brown-nosed by the bloodstained locals, especially after he built them a big beautiful cathedral with all their tax-money.

There was a Greek, a Hebrew (a Jew) and an Assyrian hanging around in the graveyard. They discovered that all the tombs were empty. “What have I been telling you all these years!” said the Greek. Four-scored years ago….”Feels like only the day before yesterday”, said the Assyrian. “Maybe it was the day before yesterday?” said the Jew (the Hebrew). “How come everybody’s stopped singing, I don’t here anybody singing anymore, the whole world’s gone quiet!” “They’re letting me dream in peace”, said the Assyrian, “I thank you, world, from the bottom of my pie, which hasn’t been opened yet! I’m saving it for Christmas!” “but you’ve got a finger in there,” said the Greek. “We’ve all got a finger in there”, said the Hebrew (the Jew), “same finger same pie!” “How come it hasn’t been opened yet?” said a voice from above, “you afraid of a few blackbirds? Scared they’re gonna bite your fore-noses off? You’ve got four noses, use ‘em! All our fathers got four noses, at least they’ve got one each between the four of ‘em!”

As the years passed, a little older and a little wiser, Brian the First Earl of Bloodstains leched and ransacked a little more discreetly. He only got pissed-off in public when he heard his Lord’s name being taken in somebody else’s vanity. “For Christ’s sake turn the fucking music down, don’t you know any other songs!? I’m trying to get my beauty sleep!”

“The stone has been rolled back”, said the Assyrian, we shall wake up with pie all over our faces, our four faces, not two faces, not two dreams..” “cause it’s the same dream, man!” said the Greek. “I have everything a man could ever dream of having”, said the Jew (the Hebrew)…”And yet….” “And yet…” “And yet”..

“We don’t have to quarrel anymore”, said Brian, the First Earl of Bloodstains. At least he didn’t. His vicious reputation and lack of parenting skills had finally brought him peace. Everything was quiet in his bloodstained domain. Of course he still did whatever the fuck he liked, though now a little more discreetly, but curiously this seemed to endear and esteem him to all and sundry who couldn’t help thinking they would do the same if they were in his place..

“Let me make one thing clear”, said the President, “let me make just one thing clear and I may never be an unhappily un-elected politician again! I will be a happy man! And you will be happy men too, all four of you, and your mother will be a happy woman, cause if there’s only one woman in the world and if she’s happy then the rest of us have no choice but to be happy for her! For four-score years and twenty fingers all stuck in the same pie with all these blackbirds! Enough blackbirds to soar clear off to the moon! “it’s a dream, man”, said the Assyrian..

Till one brutal morning a scurrilous band of nomads stole all the sacred bloodstained gold relics from the big beautiful cathedral, and in their place dumped a bare-ass-naked young strumpet of indefinite racial origins, as if in mockery of everything that was holy! The shepherd bowed to his sheep’s opinion, decreed she should be roasted to a crisp in the town midden, near the fountain in case the fire spread. But the Earl of Bloodstains came to her rescue! Who would have believed it? “Not I”, said the Greek. “Not I”, said the Jew (the Hebrew). “Whatever happened to that Assyrian fella?” asked Brian.

As he stood before them with all his noses and fingers intact and his forehead not stuck in the pie, he began to sing along with the blackbirds.. ”No, no, no. oh get thee to a nunnery, Nanette! Be pregnant and celibate at the same time and thou shalt have rightful hairs on thy chest!”

And the song was sung all over the world, the Song of Freedom! the Jitterbug Address! All Trussed Up Like a Harpy Gone Haywire! I’ll Be a Forefather’s Uncle! Hey, You, Get Outta My Crowd! I Wanna Hold Your Hand-Mower! Born To Be a Bun! Blowin’ in the Oven! And the Wind Cries Taylor Swift!!

“Are you catchin’ my drift, you catchin’ my drift, man?” echoed the Assyrian from deep in his forefather’s grave, “cause we all just driftin’ along in the same fucking dream…”

So I say, let’s just get together and jiggle!