Antennas To Heaven 27 Minute Problems Lyrics

27 Minute Problems (P. Hodgson)

By the time youve been in the newsagents for half an hour you realise its not a sitcom. No shiny people with shiny, 27 minute problems or comedy pets / neighbours. Theres just school kids and dirt. And a sign about bikes. And even after half an hour in the pub you realise that theres no 45 minute drama there. No one-off special. No recurring, locally themed detective, or vet, seen as a hard drinking, loose cannon by the pencil-necked pencil-pushers back at City Hall. Theres just punters minding their business and their drinks. And half an hour in the bookies is worse than soap opera. No banter, no recurring characters. No happily ever after ruined by the end of a contract and a dream of going into musical theatre. Just stale desperation and cigarette smoke. But you suppose thats the point. Not his, but yours. Youre not standing there because you dont believe mothers die on the steps of a church. Or that theres an incestuous child growing in the stomach of the girl on the supermarket till. There probably is. In fact, the old guy buying four limes in the grocers has probably been mistaken for a local gangster whilst on holiday in Tenerife, and even then his hotel was probably hilariously still under construction. But the point is, not for you. Not today. And as youre standing there, watching a man fray the corners of his slip with nicotine fingers, you realise it was never about that. You werent there because you didnt believe it. You werent there because you wanted to prove him wrong. You were only there because he didnt like art house movies. You were only there because he said they werent satisfying like a coward as you were leaving. You were only there because you still f___ing hate his b______ guts.