Fiction

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The Suicide Cat

Published December 9, 2019 by Naomi Rettig

Beth stood at the edge of the cliff, her eyes closed, listening to the waves thrashing against the rocks beneath her, feeling the wind slapping her, and whipping her hair across her face. Thirty-six years had culminated to this resolution. Thirty-six years of struggle and pain and feeling out of place. Thirty-six years of angst and self-torment. Even with her eyes closed, Beth could feel the moon shining a spotlight onto her. This was her moment, her final curtain call, time for that final bow.

She listened to those wonderful waves calling her name. About to take a step forward into the salty wet audience, she stopped herself. She listened again. It was definitely a cat meowing. Confused she opened her eyes and blinked to adjust to the moonlight. Taking a few steps back she turned around. Nothing. She could see the gorse bushes pushing against the wind, spiky warriors standing their ground, the blackness of the coast path in front of her, leading to inky blobs of rocks and boulders. It was ten o’clock on a deserted clifftop, her mind must be playing tricks on her, maybe as some cruel final encore. See, you are totally mad, jump off and disappear. A meow again, this time louder.

Beth peered into the darkness in the direction of the sound, still nothing.

‘Hello?’

Another louder meow was followed by two twinkling eyes materialising out from path in front of her. A black mini panther, the size of a domestic cat. The cat meowed again and slinked towards Beth, tail twitching in the air, stopping just in front of her.

Beth crouched down and held her hand out. ‘Hello. What are you doing up here?’

The cat cautiously approached her outstretched hand, sniffed, then rubbed his face against it. Beth scratched him under the chin and stroked his skinny body as it weaved around her hands.

‘You shouldn’t be up here, this wind will blow you off the cliff, you’ve got no weight on you, you silly thing. Do you live close by? Have you even got a home? What am I going to do with you?’ Beth continued her monologue of questions as the cat revelled in her attention and the wind played with her hair.

Beth stood up. ‘Well I can’t do this with you watching me. Do you want to come back with me?’

The cat meowed with perfect timing.

Beth smiled. ‘Just for one night though, I’ll postpone for one night. I’ve no more nights paid at the hotel so I’ll find you somewhere else to go in the morning. Deal?’

The cat meowed and rubbed against her legs.

‘Come on then.’ Beth started to trek back down the coast path towards the bay and the hotel. She glanced behind her, the cat was following her. She chatted to him as she navigated steep banks, slippery leaves and gnarled tree roots attempting to trip her. Every glance back was met with the vision of the black shadow with stars for eyes trotting after her.

Sneaking the cat into the hotel wasn’t a problem. Beth’s room was on the ground floor and there was a back door leading into her corridor from outside. Six stealthy feet scuttled along the corridor and into the room. After flopping onto the bed and partaking in strokes, head nudges and purrs, Beth called for room service, a tuna sandwich, a ham sandwich, and a chicken sandwich. The cat ate the contents of all three and lapped up water from a fine china saucer.

After a cleaning and grooming session the cat curled up next to Beth on the bed and slept soundly. Beth slept soundly for the first time in a long time too.

Beth observed the different shades of black fur on the cat as the morning sunlight seeped in through the curtains. Darkest brown tinges and indigo hues mingled in with the sleek tarry blackness. She felt calm and relaxed watching his belly move in and out contently and rhythmically with her breath. The cat yawned, opened his eyes slowly, and stretched his paw out into her chin, splaying his pads in a furry high five.

‘Good morning to you too.’

The cat licked his fur three times and stood up for a full body yoga stretch. Beth opened the curtains and made herself a coffee and the cat jumped off the bed, sitting knowingly by the patio door.

‘Time to go or do you just need the loo?’

Apparently it wasn’t time to go. After a toilet trip to the hotel flower beds the cat strolled back in for a wash before breakfast. Room service was ordered, extra sausage and extra bacon. Room service was eaten.

Beth’s suitcase was already packed. She’d packed it last night before going to the cliff top. She’d ask them to store her luggage for her until she decided on an altered plan of action. She dialled reception. ‘Hi, this is a strange question but is there anywhere on the island that rehomes cats or takes them in?…No, I found one this morning, I know pets aren’t allowed in rooms.’ She winked at the cat, the cat blinked back. ‘Oh ok, could you book me a taxi to take me there please?…Yes, as soon as possible…Thank you.’

‘I don’t take cats.’ The taxi driver shook his head to confirm this point. ‘They make a mess.’

Beth thought that was ironic considering he was wearing most of his breakfast remains on his sweatshirt, which was indeed sweaty too. ‘It’s my therapy cat. It’s for my anxiety. My disability cat.’

‘I don’t care if your leg has fallen off and your cat is carrying it, it’s not getting in my cab.’

The cat, in Beth’s arms, stretched his mouth wide in a yawn. Beth knew the cat was silently swearing at him. ‘But he’ll stay on my lap the whole time and it’s only a fifteen minute journey.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll pay you double the fare.’

‘Get in.’

The fifteen minute journey occurred in silence. The taxi tore through the tiny country lanes from the south of the island to the north. A fluffy bull, dangling from the rear view mirror, swung along to Coldplay. He’s trying to hang himself, thought Beth, having to put up with this mediocre droning. The cat sat happily on Beth’s lap. His left paw dangled over the edge of her leg and gently rested on the back seat. Beth smiled and whispered ‘rebel’ in her mind.

Beth paid the taxi driver but he drove off from the old farmhouse before she had time to ask him to wait. She kissed the top of the cat’s head and put him down on the driveway. Two chickens stuttered by in the background, the cat observed them casually while staying close to Beth’s legs, tail in the air, alert and wary.

A woman appeared in the garden to the side of the house, carrying a basket of washing. She was short, robust, with sparse spiky grey hair, wearing a blue shirt, jeans tucked into green wellies and a chunky cream cardigan. Beth would guess she was in her late fifties or early sixties.

‘Can I help you?’ Her voice was blunt and it didn’t sound like she wanted to help at all. She walked towards Beth, washing basket still in her arms.

‘Hello, yes, I hope so. I’ve got a cat.’

The woman stared down at the cat, then slowly back up to Beth. ‘Yes, you have.’

‘Well, it’s not really my cat, I found it last night, and it needs a home. The hotel I was staying at gave me your address.’

‘Oh they did, did they.’

‘Yes.’ Beth watched the woman, the cat watched a rogue chicken streak across the drive. Beth felt she was hostage negotiating. ‘I was hoping you could give the cat a home, or you might know someone who can.’

‘Why didn’t you just leave the cat where it was to wander back from where it came?’

‘It was on the top of Beauport Bay cliffs.’

‘At night.’

‘Yes.’

The woman’s face remained impassive. ‘You don’t live here on Jersey then.’

‘No, I was staying at L’horizon hotel.’

‘Was?’

‘It was my last night last night.’

The woman shifted the basket of washing to rest on her right hip and sniffed. ‘What time is your flight?’

‘My flight?’

‘You said it was your last night, are you flying home today? Where is home to you?’

Beth felt herself tense up, where is home seemed a more philosophical than geographical question. ‘Oh, I, um, I’m from Wales, I haven’t booked my flight yet.’

‘I see.’

Aware she was stood soldier-like Beth tried to relax her stance by shifting more of her weight to her left side, she fiddled distractedly with the strap of her bag across her body.

‘What’s your cat’s name?’

‘I don’t know, and it’s not my cat.’

The cat rubbed against Beth’s legs.

‘What’s your name? Or do you not know that either?’

‘Beth.’ Beth found herself in automatic soldier stance again.

‘Well Beth, my name is Susan. Not Sue, or Suzy, or Sooze. Clear?’

‘Um, yes.’

Susan turned and marched off towards the house. Beth and the cat stood side by side watching her.

‘Well don’t just stand there waiting for a bloody written invitation, and bring your shadow too.’

She disappeared through the door and Beth hesitantly followed her in, her shadow padding behind her.

The kitchen was cluttered with crockery, books, and plants, an assault of colours vied for Beth’s attention. An aroma of moth balls, dusty libraries and Deep Heat challenged her nostrils. A large hefty wooden table was in the centre of the room with various sizes of crocheted coasters and placemats of a kaleidoscope of colours scattered on it. Susan was filling a kettle by the cooker.

‘You can have tea from the pot with me or a coffee, only instant coffee though, I have no time to mess about with those silly plunger things.’

‘Instant coffee is fine, thanks.’

The kettle boiled, Susan clattered about with a teapot. ‘Sit down then.’

Beth sat on one of the wooden chairs, the cat jumped up on her lap, massaged her legs while he got comfortable then curled up.

‘And you think he’s not your cat?’

Beth smoothed his fur as he purred. ‘I can’t look after a cat.’

‘Nonsense.’ The teapot, wearing a green and yellow crocheted cosy, was plonked on the table, followed by a mug of coffee emblazoned with ‘I love Ibiza’, followed by a tin of malted milk biscuits.

‘Thank you.’ Beth glanced at her mug. She doubted that Susan had been to Ibiza.

Before she had chance to ask her, an elderly German Shepherd plodded into the room and over to Susan. Susan ruffled his head and smiled.

‘This is Jim. Jim, we have visitors.’

Beth was slightly taken aback by Susan’s smile, it transformed her face so much. She turned her head to the dog. ‘Hello Jim.’

Jim slowly walked to Beth and sniffed her leg and the cat. The cat opened his left eye and studied Jim’s large damp nose and inquisitive eyes. After a brief moment Jim turned and plodded back out of the room.

Susan delved into the biscuits and started to munch on one. ‘Do you like animals?’

‘Of course, I like them more than people.’ Beth looked up to meet Susan’s studying of her. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be, animals are nicer than people, they don’t let you down or leave you.’ Susan pushed the biscuit tin towards Beth. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony.’

‘Thanks.’ Beth took a biscuit out and bit off half.

‘So if you leave your shadow here, what are you going to do next?’

Beth was glad she had a mouthful of biscuit to stall for an answer. She could hardly tell a complete stranger she would probably go throw herself of the cliff tonight. She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ Her shaky hands picked up her coffee and she was self consciously aware Susan had noticed this.

Susan slurped her tea. ‘Won’t anyone miss you?’

Beth’s hands gripped the mug handle tight. Had Susan read her mind? She stared into the abyss of coffee. ‘No.’

The following silence felt so deep to Beth, she had an urge to fill it. ‘I have no job, no family, no partner, no children, no friends, just a rented apartment full of dreams and regrets.’ Shocked at her honest revelation she shoved another half of a malted milk in her mouth to stop herself revealing anymore.

Susan nodded solemnly and slid the biscuit tin back towards herself, also taking another biscuit. ‘But now you have your shadow.’

Beth twitched a smile as she looked down at the sleeping cat, her eyes watered. She brushed off an escaped tear and desperately tried to swallow down the remainder of her biscuit without choking.

Susan swigged more tea and topped up her cup from the pot. ‘Do you have bags? A suitcase?’

‘Oh, yes, my suitcase is in storage at the hotel.’

Susan nodded. ‘We’ll go get it after lunch. You can stay in one of my spare rooms. It’s not fancy but it’s got a comfy bed, wallpaper, and a nice wardrobe.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t stay here.’

‘Why not? Are you a thief, a murderer or an arsonist?’

‘No.’

‘No I thought not, so you can stay. Until you decide what you and Shadow are going to do next.’ Susan nodded towards the cat. ‘He thinks you’re someone worth hanging around for, that’s good enough for me.’

‘But, I wouldn’t want to put you out.’

‘You won’t be, I’m not offering you the swanky hotel services you’ve been used to. A bed and board for you both in return for helping me look after the animals here in the kennels. Again, not a hotel, so you’ll eat what I cook for myself or cook and clean up after yourself if you don’t like my cooking.’

Beth realised she’d been holding her breath and exhaled deeply. ‘That’s really kind of you.’

‘Not being kind, I’m using you for cheap labour, my arthritis is playing up and you’ve come along at the right time.’

Beth looked down at Shadow on her lap, then back up to Susan. ‘Yes, I think I have.’

Margaret

Published November 19, 2019 by Naomi Rettig

For the first time ever, Margaret severed a head. Not just any head, the head of her husband. Her now ex-husband. She was surprised how easy it was, considering she hadn’t meant to decapitate him. Her upper arm strength and swing action had shocked both her and Eddie. His face, suspended in petrified disbelief, gawked up from the blood sodden rug. Margaret watched how the crimson fluid delicately shaded the peonies in the pattern. She sat in the armchair, breathing heavily, and dropped the axe to the floor with a dull thud. Sinking back into the tatty brown leather she allowed herself to smile. Which turned to laughter. Followed by docker swearing at the unresponsive head.

She jerked her leg out and kicked the headless torso. She laughed again. With her breathing more controlled she stood and rolled the body onto its back. She kicked it hard between the legs.

‘You won’t be forcing anyone now will you.’

Margaret kicked Eddie’s torso again, with more force, but it was like kicking a sandbag. She stared at the lump of a husband and then sat back down, closed her eyes, and exhaled deeply, using the breathing techniques she’d learnt in counselling sessions. She could hear her therapist Lynne telling her to inhale for five then exhale for eight.

She obeyed Lynne’s voice. She felt calm. She thought back to meeting Lynne, and that timid frightened wren that she once was, scared of everything and Eddie, especially Eddie. Margaret didn’t think she’d be able to tell anyone about what Eddie did to her but she did and Lynne gave her tools to make her stronger. To rebuild herself.

Eddie had been such a charmer when Margaret had met him at the butchers counter when she was sixteen. He was handsome, funny, popular, and twenty-two, he could have had the pick of the village but he chose her. She felt so lucky. She would have done anything to keep him, and she did. Anything he wanted, he got, whether Margaret wanted it or not. Usually not.

Margaret had thought about ending her life many times to escape, a desperate solution for a desperate woman. Her daughter Lucy had made her think of other options. She couldn’t leave her with him, she’d already seen the way he was starting to look at her. She knew that as her own figure became less appealing Lucy was blossoming, and that’s what scared her the most, made her want to fight back, escape from her tormentor who was once her hero.

Life hadn’t changed overnight. Like mould it had started as small spores sparsely spaced and had spread slowly until she found it too hard to breathe. The young virile heartthrob evolved into an overweight lazy bully, the bright optimistic butterfly became cocooned. One-off demeaning comments developed into daily vitriol, the odd slap matured into routine beatings.

Margaret opened her eyes. She stared at the mess in front of her and glanced at the clock. It would be a few hours before Lucy came home from school. Plenty of time to clean up, she wasn’t going to risk jail for him. He wasn’t worth it. She’d wasted too many years on him already.

She’d pack a suitcase with his favourite clothes and passport and bury them in the garden with him. He used to tell anyone down the pub that she was a useless wife and he was going to leave her, well, now he had. A jolt of euphoric relief pulsed through her, she stood up and made her way to the garage to locate the spade, stamping on Eddie’s genitals on the way past.

‘No more Eddie, no more.’

Brexmeat

Published September 17, 2019 by Naomi Rettig

Tony scraped up scraps of cartilage and bones that the machine had spat out. He tossed them into the incinerator while whistling ‘Another One Bites the Dust’. The stench didn’t bother him, he’d been a butcher before being imprisoned, humans smelled the same as animals to him. Ben didn’t have the same stomach as Tony, and even though he wore a face mask it was a struggle to not gag constantly.

Tony wiped his chunky calloused hands on his already bloodstained apron. ‘C’mon lad, time for a brew.’

Ben didn’t know if he could keep a cup of tea inside him, but he wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to get off the factory floor. He peeled his sweaty gloves off, left them on the table, and followed Tony into the small staffroom.

Tony already had the kettle switched on and was putting sugar in his mug. ‘Sugar?’

‘No thanks.’ Ben sat down on one of the blue plastic chairs and took his face mask off.

Tony smiled. ‘You’ll get used to it.’ He placed the mugs on the table and sat opposite Ben. ‘What you in for? Must be bad to be working production.’

‘Cyber fraud.’

Tony laughed. ‘What a waste. You’ve thrown your life away for hacking?’

‘I only moved money from one account to another, they got it all back, I’ll be out soon when I’m up for parole.’

Tony belly laughed again. ‘If you’re here in production parole isn’t on the cards for you.’

‘I don’t understand?’

‘Prisoners on the production line are never leaving here. Life means life here.’

‘But I didn’t get life, I got four years, so I’ll be out in two.’

‘So naïve. How old are you?’

‘Twenty-two.’

Tony stopped smiling and shook his head. ‘You don’t have any family, do you?’

‘No, how do you know that?’

‘Because if you’re not here on production because you’re a lifer it’s because you don’t have family. No one to miss you or report you when you don’t get out.’

Ben stared down at the table, trying not to cry or pass out.

‘Lots of people here are the alone.’ Tony slurped some of his tea. ‘Not usually youngsters like you though.’

‘But I got a sentence, in a court, they can’t keep me here.’

‘They can do what want, they’re the government.’

‘People need to know this.’

‘People need to not know this, that’s why none of us on production will ever get out or have contact with anyone outside.’

‘I can’t stay here forever.’

‘You don’t have a choice. Unless you want to kill yourself, that’s your only choice. But then you’d end up in a sausage or a pie like the refugees and illegals.’

‘Surely that’s better than butchering and cooking people every day.’

Tony shrugged. ‘Depends on your view. Roof over my head, food in my belly, library full of books, gym to work out in. Throats to slit every day. I got a better life in here than I did outside.’

‘Doesn’t it make you sick? Killing innocent people? And eating them? Sending them out to be eaten by the public?’

Tony laughed and finished his tea. ‘Lad, no one is innocent in life, all have sin. I used to butcher animals for a living, human carcasses are no different. I’m in here for life, for murder. I killed my wife for sleeping around. I was happy killing the woman I loved most in the world, killing people I don’t know is a cinch.’

Ben stared at Tony, frightened to ask him anymore.

‘And eating them? You eat the flesh of a cow or pig, there’s no difference with a human. Flesh is flesh. You’re not a veggie are you?’

‘No.’

‘Well there you go then.’

‘The government should tell the people what they’re doing.’

‘Too many snowflakes like you would have a meltdown. It’s better if they don’t know.’

‘It’s dishonest, it’s wrong.’

‘Says you, banged up for stealing.’

‘I was stealing from companies who could afford it.’

‘Still deception however you want to dress it up. How would you solve the problem? Millions of hungry people on our island with not enough food to feed everyone, no help from the EU as we stuck two fingers up to them, thousands of illegals and refugees turning up here trying to take our depleted food from us.’

‘I don’t know. But I know this is wrong.’

Tony shrugged. ‘Embrace it or die. Going through the motions will drive you mad if you don’t believe it’s for the greater cause. I’ve seen many that breakdown. A few months ago a lad about your age threw himself in the furnace. Jerry. What a waste. Burnt to a crisp like pork crackling. He had a lot of meat on him, would have fed a good many people. Selfish really.’

‘I guess he wasn’t thinking straight.’

‘Well if you ever feel like throwing yourself in the furnace, don’t. Give me the heads up and I’ll make it quick for you, neat slit to the throat. Might even make sure I get a product you end up in.’

Ben pushed his tea away from him, the urge to vomit was swelling.

An alarm rang out for a short burst making Ben flinch and a red light flashed over one of the double doors on the production floor.

‘Fresh meat.’ Tony stood up. ‘You been shown how to slit a throat properly?’

The colour drained away from Ben’s face. ‘No.’

‘Time for me to teach you then.’ Tony smiled and walked out the room.

Ben put his mask over his mouth and nose, took a deep breath, and slowly followed.

Tony picked up a six-inch knife from the wall rack. ‘This is the best knife. Sharp like a shark, cuts through flesh like a hot knife through butter.’

They walked towards the doors, silent now but red light still flashing.

‘Now you can watch me do one, then you can have a go.’

‘I don’t want to, can’t you do it all?’

‘I could, but you need to be able to do it. If you can’t do the whole job then that choice of sausage or worker will be taken away from you.’Tony put his hand on the door handle. ‘Don’t look into their eyes, it’ll make it harder for you.’ He opened the door and muffled shouts and cries began immediately.

Inside the white sterile room were ten naked people of male and female assortment bound securely by ropes, gagged and sat on the floor. Ages varied from twenty to sixty. All were shaking and wide eyed. Tony stepped into the room, followed by Ben who was struggling to pull his gloves on to his tremoring hands.

‘Start anywhere you like, some choose youngest to oldest or vice versa, I just work my way around the room.’ Tony seemed oblivious to the muffled cries and screams.

Ben automatically looked into sets of eyes as he scanned the room. He could feel himself hyperventilating and wished he would just pass out.

Tony approached the first livestock. A man in his forties, dark skinned, average build, trying to plead through his gag. Tony grabbed his hair and held him firmly upright. ‘You need to hold them still, it’s quicker for them that way.’ He placed the knife at the left side of the terrified man’s throat. ‘Start right over here and go in deep and slice across. The deeper you go the quicker it’ll be over for them. Don’t go doing stupid little papercuts coz you haven’t got the balls; it’ll make it worse for them and you.’ Tony sliced in one quick movement. Blood spurted out and then flowed down the naked man’s chest. The man’s throat gargled, his eyes grew wider, then he was motionless.

The remaining nine people screamed and cried from behind their gags.

Even with the mask over his nose Ben could smell faeces and urine as well as the iron aroma of the blood. It took all his focus not to vomit.

Tony turned and handed the knife to Ben. ‘You’re up. Better do one before you hit the deck.’

Ben took the knife reluctantly, his hands trembled more, and he felt so hot and sticky. Number two of the livestock was a pale Eastern European looking woman in her twenties. She was silent and staring at Ben with frozen terror. He put the knife tentatively to her throat, she pushed back against the wall and started to scream. Ben held her by her hair and gripped the knife with more force.

Ben’s mouth was dry, his tongue felt paralysed in its arid cave, he could barely whisper. ‘I’m sorry.’

Twelve Days of Christmas at the pharmacy (to be sung to the tune of Twelve Days of Christmas).

Published December 21, 2018 by Naomi Rettig

On the twelfth day of Christmas my pharmacist gave to me
Twelve senna tablets
Eleven paracetamols
Ten mills of methadone
Nine types of statins
Eight anti-depressants
Seven sleeping tablets
Six morphine patches
Five metformin
Four suppositories
Three furosemides
Two inhalers
And a jumbo pot of aspirin

80’s Music Typos.

Published August 5, 2018 by Naomi Rettig

The typist for an 80’s radio station made a few errors when typing up the playlist, changing one letter can make quite a difference in songs.

Dancing with Pears in my Eyes – Ultravox

We Don’t Need Another Herb – Tina Turner

Wherever I Lay My Cat (That’s My Home) – Paul Young

Down Udder – Men at Work

Tonight, I Celebrate My Dove – Peabo Bryson & Roberta Flack

That’s Ale – Genesis

Panic Monday – The Bangles

Dr Meat – Gloria Estefan

Can you Peel It – Jackson 5

Naneater – Hall & Oates

Deaf Ringer for Love – Meatloaf

Holding Out For a Herb – Bonnie Tyler

Never Ending Storm – Limahl

It’s Raining, Meh – The Weather Girls

Cruet Summer – Bananarama

Grass in Pocket – The Pretenders

Love is a Cattlefield – Pat Benatar

Relay – Frankie Goes to Hollywood

Danger Bone – Kenny Loggins

You Can’t Curry Love – Phil Collins

Here Comes the Pain Again – Eurythmics

Jello – Lionel Richie

Stout – Tears For Fears

Alive and Licking – Simple Minds

Cities in Lust – Siouxsie & The Banshees

The Lady in Bed – Chris De Burgh

Invisible Couch – Genesis

Holding Back the Bears – Simply Red

Trench Kissin’ in The USA – Deborah Harry

Always on my Hind – Pet Shop Boys

Gimme Dope Jo’anna – Eddy Grant

Turn Back the Glock – Johnny Hates Jazz

Pot in the City – Billy Idol

I Should Be So Yucky – Kylie Minogue

Everyday is Like a Funday – Morrissey

Peardrops – Womack & Womack

Feed You Tonight – INXS

Baby I Don’t Bare – Transvision Vamp

I Want That Map – Deborah Harry

The Pest – Tina Turner

Welcome to the Bungle – Guns n Roses

Porn in the USA – Bruce Springsteen

Honey for Nothing – Dire Straits

Mild Side – Motley Crew

When Doves Pry – Prince

Previous Band Names

Published May 3, 2018 by Naomi Rettig

Lots of bands weren’t doing too well so they changed their names and the rest is history*.

*This may not be true.

1. Stare 281 – Blink 182
2. Warmnap – Coldplay
3. Blind Pantha – Def Leppard
4. Knives n’ Posies – Guns n’ Roses
5. Duke Magenta – King Crimson
6. The Arsonists – The Killers
7. Woodlica – Metallica
8. My Fragrance Free Friendship – My Chemical Romance
9. Uncertainty – No Doubt
10. Coral Curd – Pearl Jam
11. Kings of the Bronze Age – Queens of the Stone Age
12. Gripvelcro – Slipknot
13. Audiolawn – Soundgarden
14. Fat Betty – Thin Lizzy
15. Corduroy Pistol – Velvet Revolver
16. Uh-Oh – A-Ha
17. Brenda’s Basement – Alisha’s Attic
18. Front Avenue Lads – Backstreet Boys
19. Hit for Brows – Bat for Lashes
20. Silver Swot Bicycle Club – Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
21. Brownie – Blondie
22. Skinny Malcolm – Boney M
23. Skittling for Pita Bread – Bowling for Soup
24. Empty Bungalow – Crowded House
25. The Fresh Freesias – The Dead Daisies
26. Light Lilac – Deep Purple
27. Dexy’s Midday Walkers – Dexy’s Midnight Runners
28. The Windows – The Doors
29. The Candle Band – Electric Light Orchestra
30. Gas Five – Electric Six
31. Cuddle – Embrace
32. Frankie Goes to Cleethorpes – Frankie Goes to Hollywood
33. Enemy Floods – Friendly Fires
34. Lung – Heart
35. Tootie & The Clownfish – Hootie & The Blowfish
36. Mike and The Osteopaths – Mike and The Mechanics
37. Sulky Greys – Moody Blues
38. Seven Centimeter Screws – Nine Inch Nails
39. Sleet Guard – Snow Patrol
40. Hard Nucleus – Soft Cell
41. Tin Tiger – Steel Panther
42. Moist Thumbs – Sticky Fingers
43. The Stabbers – The Stranglers
44. Pampered Pussies – Stray Cats
45. The Fashion Forum – The Style Council
46. Chit Chat – Talk Talk
47. Beers for Deers – Tears for Fears
48. Creepyview – Terrorvision
49. We Are Postmen – We Are Scientists
50. Pinkworm – Whitesnake

Eighties Original Songs

Published April 7, 2018 by Naomi Rettig

Original 80’s Song Titles before they were changed by the artists to appeal to the mass market.

1. Simply Red – If You Don’t Know Me by Now (you haven’t been paying attention to our conversations you ignorant prat).

2. Fine Young Cannibals – She Drives Me Crazy (when she talks during the football).

3. Cher – If I Could Turn Back Time (I wouldn’t have gone for the cheesecake as your tiramisu looked nicer).

4. Belinda Carlisle – Leave a Light On (as I’ve just watched ‘Halloween’ and I’ve got a loose bladder).

5. Texas – I Don’t Want a Lover (I want a man who does the ironing for me).

6. Glenn Medeiros – Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You (unless you keep cooking kippers on a Tuesday).

7. Tiffany – I Think We’re Alone Now (apart from all the voices in my head and my invisible unicorn Neville).

8. Belinda Carlisle – Heaven Is a Place on Earth (called Scunthorpe).

9. Phil Collins – Two Hearts (make you Doctor Who).

10. Cher – I Found Someone (to sort out my plumbing, so take those rubber gloves off).

11. Rick Astley – Never Gonna Give You Up (unless I’m offered a bag of Malteasers).

12. Jackie Wilson – I Get the Sweetest Feeling (when I eat too much fudge).

13. Terence Trent D’Arby – If You Let Me Stay (I’ll put up that shelf you wanted and treat you to a bag of chips).

14. George Michael – I Want Your Sex (but a Mars bar will do if you’re tired).

15. Level 43 – Running in the Family (ended with me, I’m a walker).

16. Robert Palmer – Addicted to Love (and pizza and Haribo sweets).

17. Phyllis Nelson – Move Closer (because you smell of cottage pie and I really want to sniff you).

18. Tears for Fears – Everybody Wants to Rule the World (except me, I’m a lazy ass and just want to watch Bargain Hunt on TV).

19. Bruce Springsteen – Dancing in the Dark (because I’ve not paid the leccy again).

20. Kate Bush – Running Up That Hill (has given me shocking shin splints).

21. Paul Young – Every Time You Go Away (your best friend Laura plays Scrabble and eats pork pies with me).

22. Fine Young Cannibals – Johnny Come Home (your spaghetti hoops are starting to congeal).

23. Stevie Wonder – I Just Called to Say I Love You (and to cadge a lift home because I’ve missed the last bus).

24. Nik Kershaw – Wouldn’t It Be Good (if I was a ginger cat and lived with Mrs. Jones in number 42).

25. Cyndi Lauper – Girl’s Just Want to Have Fun (and a man that does the dusting).

26. Ultravox – Dancing with Tears In My Eyes (because I’ve stubbed my toe yet again on that ugly coffee table).

27. Chaka Khan – Ain’t Nobody (gonna to eat my last Rolo).

28. Siouxsie & The Banshees – Dear Prudence (stop eating the food on my shelf in the fridge or I will wrap your feet in cellophane while you sleep).

29. Dexy’s Midnight Runners – Come on Eileen (that table’s not going to take your weight much longer, and for Gawd’s sake put your boobs away

30. Yazoo – Only You (make me want to throw myself off a stepladder while eating a cactus).

31. Joan Jett & The Blackhearts – I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll (sausage rolls, swiss rolls, forward rolls and fat rolls).

32. Human League – Don’t You Want Me (suspended by fraying wool over a shark tank).

33. The Police – Every Little Thing She Does is Magic (apart from Yorkshire puddings, she can’t make those for jack.)

34. Odyssey – Going Back to My Roots (because peroxide prices are extortionate).

35. Abba – One of Us (is an annoying twat and it’s not me).

36. Depeche Mode – Just Can’t Get Enough (of you mum’s apple chutney).

37. The Police – Don’t Stand So Close to Me (I had a curry last night).

38. The Nolans – I’m in the Mood for Dancing (but my bunions have other ideas).

39. Blondie – Call Me (if you’re having pizza tonight, but not if you’re having anchovies on it).

40. Prince – Let’s Go Crazy (and have a dessert and the cheeseboard).

41. Duran Duran – Hungry Like the Wolf (so two pasties and a doughnut for me please).

42. Wham – Last Christmas (you didn’t buy me a chocolate orange and I can never forgive you).

43. Queen – Under Pressure (I eat lots of cake and watch the True Movie channel).

44. Whitesnake – Here I Go Again (picking up your socks from the floor, lazy git.)

45. The Cure – Pictures of You (make me want to vomit and I use them on my dart board).

46. Def Leppard – Pour Some Sugar on Me (as I’m having a hypo and my insulin’s not kicking in).

47. ACDC – Back in Black (because I’ve eaten too many Easter eggs and my backside is the size of Luxemburg).

48. Starship – Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now (unless my passport doesn’t come back because I left it late as per usual).

49. U2 – Where the Streets Have No Name (I get a bit lost and have to use my sat nav).

50. Bros – I Owe You Nothing (apart from maybe that 10p I borrowed in 1984 for a Curly Wurly).