Sunday, January 11, 2015

Pheasant plucking's done

RIP Lance Percival.

I recently watched as much sixties British satirical comedy as I could find, including some TW3 (That Was The Week That Was) and John Lancelot Blades Percival was one of the greats.

His schtick was to ask for a phrase, place or event from the audience and then make it into an instant calypso.  I saw him live once, and he asked the audience for an occupation. A man shouted out "pheasant plucker" and without missing a beat, literally, Lance sang:

I am a pheasant plucker
I'm a pheasant plucker's son
And I won't stop pheasant plucking
Till the pheasant plucking's done

Which I can't even type out without making the obvious error. It probably wasn't original even then, but in (I'm guessing) 1965 it's a pretty brave thing to attempt in front of a live audience.  I'm having difficulty fitting it to a calypso beat, but I was about seven when I heard it - there may be more syllables in there that I've forgotten.

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