Dungiggin': AD2020: Scenes from a home for retired pop stars

'Mr Jagger's fine,' replied the

nurse

'Keef's not good - but certainly

no worse.

Drinks bourbon every morning

The doctors gave fair warning

Gets fag-ash on his bedspread

We caught him with a redhead

Claims he isn't tired

But oxygen's required.'

The nurse and I spoke frankly

She frowned and shook her head

'If health were based on virtue

These people would be dead.'

We strolled the gentle gardens

This elegant abode

Of rockstars in retirement

Unburdened of their load

A village full of legends

Bade goodbye to the road

The bungalows and chalets

For favoured crew (their valets)

Had names with intimations

Of former occupations:

The roadies - Dunhumpin'.

Security - Dunthumpin'.

Liggers - Dunliggin'.

The lights - Dunriggin'.

A few - Dunevrithin',

And all Dungiggin'.

The nurse now pointed, 'There

you are -

You see that burned out

Battricar?

Crashed for fun by some old star

After lunchtime in the bar.

Delinquents in corrective school

Show more manners as a rule.

The Sunshine Coach is in the pool

Written off by that old fool

Dylan - drove it at Sinead

Wrecked the thing and never paid

Over some old gig they played

Think she called him 'Mucus

Aid'

Back in 1992

Piss-poor gig and bad review.

Look, I go off shift at sundown

Stick with me - you'll get the rundown.

Phil Collins - on Phyllosan

Sinitta - on Sanatogen

Winwood - on Wincarnis

Cliff? Just varnish

And one elastic stocking

But he's still rocking.

Mr Waters, Mr Gilmour,

Mr Wright.

Separated by request

They tend to fight.

Mr Blackmore?

Ask the porter.

Arthritic and has trouble

With smoke in his water.

Dylan I have mentioned

'Zimmerframe' to us

This wheelchair's on fire

Listen and discuss

Townshend? Well,

The scissor-kicks have gone

He now attempts the 'tweezer

jump'

Bowling on the lawn

And Status Quo?

Retired - got bored

They gave up on that other chord

A monthly journal goes to press

It's called Old Musical Excess

Or OME - whom Bowie sued

For calling him the Thin Old Dude

Clapton?

Clapped out.

Elton John?

Sadly gone.

Tina? Turned off.

David? Byrned off.

Plant? Died.

Fish? Fried.

Hucknall?

Simply dead.

And Bono's in the gym

Good therapy for him

Though nowhere near as chic as

Climbing banks of speakers

Madonna's hip replacement

Is worth a second look

To no one's real amazement

The subject of a book

Entitled simply, Hip

And Julie Burchill's tip

For runaway best-seller

With foreword by D Mellor.

The movie, Operation,

Is causing a sensation;

Madonna on the inside.

The plot is on the thin side.

The three remaining Beatles

Lord Mac, Sir George . . . and

Ringo

Have whiskey with their Horlicks

Fridays after bingo.

And Morrissey?

You didn't know?

His gladioli won the show

His fruit and flowers all

'commended'

See how well the garden's

tended.'

The tour was nearly over - it was

late

I thanked the weary nurse and at

the gate

We saw a bag of bones astride a

cycle.

Weller? Jagger? Possibly George

Michael?

'No,' the nurse corrected, 'that was Lemmy.'

Every night he drinks a fifth of

Remy

Steals a bike and comes home off

his face.

Only problem is, he owns the place.'