A,t the Mysterious Beings, we rely on the very latest management techniques to keep the band functioning as a well-oiled machine. This includes team building exercises, such as the one we recently conducted in guitarist Dee Sharpe’s Granny’s living room in Broughty Ferry.
For some reason, I allowed our loathsome pianist Gene Poole-Skimmings to select the format of the meeting and he decided it would be a good idea to go around the room and let each member list things they would change about the others in the band. It was not a good idea, least of all for Gene, as with the exception of bassist Juan Tusrivor suggesting that sax wizard Aldo Sachs should cut down on his three packs of unfiltered Gitanes a day habit, a suggestion born as much out of concern for Aldo’s heath as a smog control measure, the session consisted mostly of us listing the many faults of Gene himself.
Things were in danger of getting ugly – a short temper and intolerance of criticism being among those many faults – when Dee’s Granny came in with a nice cup of tea for everyone and a suggestion that, instead of listing each other’s faults, we turn out attention to the world at large and list things that annoyed us and weren’t each other. She furnished us the example of her minister, the Rev. Roderick McKinnon, and his penchant for building sermons around stories from the Internet that were obviously bogus. It was a stroke of genius and all animosity was forgotten as we composed this song over the Rich Tea biscuits she had thoughtfully laid out. Dee’s Granny is the best!
This song is dedicated to the Mysterious Moobs and their favorite waitress who puts up with them at the Station, serving up Table Rock Pale Ale and wings with a generous portion of the most delicious and endlessly creative rudeness.