Andrew Lloyd Webber - Give Us Something Juicy lyrics
[Andrew Lloyd Webber - Give Us Something Juicy lyrics]
(An office in the "News of
The World" building cHRISTINE sit's, out of
Her depth and a little uncomfortable
As three JOURNALISTS circle her
Notepads in hand a reel-to reel tape
Recorder is on cHRISTINE aims for
(but fails to achieve) a
Tone of jaunty indifference)
Give us something juicy
What was Jack like in bed?
If it's really juicy
It could make you rich!
Make it nice and fruity
Tell us what Astor said
How did he persuade you
When he got the itch?
Who came in the front as
You slipped Jack out the back
Any chance it could have been a Russian spy?
Did you mention missiles
In the sack with old Jack?
Was Ivanov chatty when he stroked your thigh?
Ivanov?
You heard me
Hang about what's your game?
Where did you get that name?
What's it matter, love?
I thought I was here to
Talk about Johnny Edgecombe!
You're here to talk about whatever we
Want you to talk about!
Such as whether you discussed matters
Of national security when
You were in bed with the Minister for War?
When he gave way to lust
Missiles weren't much discussed
And Ivanov?
Eugene was a very big vodka man
He'd have ten for the road
And then things would never go quite to plan
I don't think that he ever shot his load!
(Laughter from the JOURNALISTS)
Whoa, there!
That's not what we want to hear!
It only happened the once at the very
Most, and we were both so drunk, neither
Of us could really remember what we'd done!
Surely we owe your readers the truth
Don't we?
(More laughter from the JOURNALISTS)
Don't be bloody stupid!
Where's the fun reading that?
We need something juicy
For the papers to sell!
Never mind what happened
They want tit, they want tat
He may not have fucked you, Christine
What the hell?
We owe it to our readers
"All the news fit to print"
That is our proud credo
On the street of shame
Play your cards right, darling
Or you could end up skint
Do you want the gutter or a life of fame?
You wanted my story you promised me glory
Never told me I was going to have to lie!
You don't understand
It's twenty-four grand
"News of the World" readers set
Their sights quite high!
Without something juicy
This ain't worth thirty bob
We'll do all the writing
It's a piece of cake!
Tell us something juicy come on, love
Do your job
Orgies
Niggers
Warheads
Real news, for Christ's sake!
Tell us something juicy come on, love
Do your job orgies
Niggers warheads
Real news, for Christ's sake! Orgies
Niggers warheads
Real news, for Christ's sake!
The World" building cHRISTINE sit's, out of
Her depth and a little uncomfortable
As three JOURNALISTS circle her
Notepads in hand a reel-to reel tape
Recorder is on cHRISTINE aims for
(but fails to achieve) a
Tone of jaunty indifference)
Give us something juicy
What was Jack like in bed?
If it's really juicy
It could make you rich!
Make it nice and fruity
Tell us what Astor said
How did he persuade you
When he got the itch?
Who came in the front as
You slipped Jack out the back
Any chance it could have been a Russian spy?
Did you mention missiles
In the sack with old Jack?
Was Ivanov chatty when he stroked your thigh?
Ivanov?
You heard me
Hang about what's your game?
Where did you get that name?
What's it matter, love?
I thought I was here to
Talk about Johnny Edgecombe!
You're here to talk about whatever we
Want you to talk about!
Such as whether you discussed matters
Of national security when
You were in bed with the Minister for War?
When he gave way to lust
Missiles weren't much discussed
And Ivanov?
Eugene was a very big vodka man
He'd have ten for the road
And then things would never go quite to plan
I don't think that he ever shot his load!
(Laughter from the JOURNALISTS)
Whoa, there!
That's not what we want to hear!
It only happened the once at the very
Most, and we were both so drunk, neither
Of us could really remember what we'd done!
Surely we owe your readers the truth
Don't we?
(More laughter from the JOURNALISTS)
Don't be bloody stupid!
Where's the fun reading that?
We need something juicy
For the papers to sell!
Never mind what happened
They want tit, they want tat
He may not have fucked you, Christine
What the hell?
We owe it to our readers
"All the news fit to print"
That is our proud credo
On the street of shame
Play your cards right, darling
Or you could end up skint
Do you want the gutter or a life of fame?
You wanted my story you promised me glory
Never told me I was going to have to lie!
You don't understand
It's twenty-four grand
"News of the World" readers set
Their sights quite high!
Without something juicy
This ain't worth thirty bob
We'll do all the writing
It's a piece of cake!
Tell us something juicy come on, love
Do your job
Orgies
Niggers
Warheads
Real news, for Christ's sake!
Tell us something juicy come on, love
Do your job orgies
Niggers warheads
Real news, for Christ's sake! Orgies
Niggers warheads
Real news, for Christ's sake!