Through clear skies tracking lightly from far down the line

No fanfare, just a blip on the screen

No quick conclusions now --- everything will be fine

Short-circuit glitsch and not what it seems

Fylingdale Flyer --- you're only half way there

Green screen liar ---

for a second or so we were running scared



On late shift, feeling drowsy eyes glued to the display

Dead cert alert, lit match to the straw

One last quick game of bowls --- we can still win the day

Fail-safe; forget the things that you saw



They checked the systems through and they read A-o.k.

Some tiny fuse has probably blown

Sit back; relax and soon it will just go away

Keep your hands off that red telephone



Working John, Working Joe



When I was a young man (as all good tales begin)

I was taught to hold out my hand

And for my pay I worked an honest day

and took what pittance I could win

Now I'm a working John and I'm a working Joe

and I'm doing what I know

for God and the Economy

Big brother watches over me

And the state protects and feeds me

And my conscience never leaves me

And I'm loyal to the unions

who protect me at all levels



And as I grew, the winds of fortune blew

and the bank smiled down upon me

And mortgaged to the hilt I threw

the breeze of caution behind me

Now I'm a working John and I'm a working Joe

and I'm good at what I know

And God and the Economy

have blessed me with equality

Now I'm equal to the best of you

And better than the rest of you

who would criticise my success

in times of national unrest



Now I own my horseless carriage

in its central-heated garage

And I commute eighty miles a day ----