The Indian Top 10:
1. Tears on My Pillau.
2. Its my chappalti and I'll cry if I want to.
3. Tikka Chance on Me.
5. Korma Korma Chameleon.
6. What's the Story Morning Tandoori.
7. Easy like Sanjay Morning.
8. You Can't Curry Love.
9. Poppadum Preach.
10. Sheikh Your Body. All available on the fantastic new album, Turban Hymns by Donner Summer.
Bohemian Curry (sung to the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen)
Naan-aa, just killed a man
Poppadom against his head
Had lime pickle, now he's dead.
Naan-aa, dinner just begun
But now I'm going to crap it all away.
Didn't mean to make you cry,
Seen nothin' yet just see the loo tomorrow,
Curry on, Curry on,
'cause nothing really madras.
Too late, my dinner's gone
Sends shivers up my spine
Rectum aching all the time.
Goodbye every bhaji, I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and use the more...
With apologies to Mr Poe
As I kneel, head bowed, puking,
as I choke and snort my sputum
croaking, coughing, retching, groaning,
on the bathroom floor,
I think, though brain is dizzy,
things I've never thought before
Things I've missed, though often spewing,
or somehow managed to ignore
While I lie bedraggled,
on the stinking cold hard floor.
Now with head a-throbbing,
o'er the great white bowl I'm bobbing,
Bobbing, throbbing, weaving, chucking,
surely there can be no more?
No more vomit I lay praying,
Jesus! save me now, and seal my maw
And send a team of maidens
to mop this stinking cold hard floor
And if you do, I promise,
on my honour, Nevermore!
But lo! my gut's ill-fated,
and my heaves are unabated,
And now my thoughts turn back
to whence they were before,
As I'm squirming, smacking, flopping,
like a spastic being ignored.
And no maidens do I hear,
not one wet-wipe does more...