Friday, 21 December 2012

Driving Home for Christmas

Well apparently I just linked my blog up with my Google Plus profile. This is the most excellent use of time before the world ends, I'm sure you'll agree.

As is my interpretation of Chris Rea's Christmas (s)hit, 'Driving Home for Christmas'. Which I'm sure you've all already heard 1000 times by now inbetween queuing to buy tat and attending 'festive' work 'parties', but I'll post a link for the miraculously uninitiated anyway:

In a nutshell, my lyrical analytic conclusion stands thus:

The whole song is one big sexual metaphor and Chris Rea is a massive pervert.

Some evidence of Rea being linked with kink:

In Greek mythology, Rhea was the daughter of sky god Uranus.

This picture of Rheas:

Clearly a filthy exhibitionist.

And finally, my annotated version of the depraved lyrics:

Driving home for Christmas

Driving what into what

Oh, I can't wait to see those faces

I'm driving home for Christmas, yea

Well I'm moving down that line

And it's been so long

Since I got laid

But I will be there

I sing this song

To pass the time away

Driving in my car

Driving home for Christmas

It's gonna take some time

But I'll get there

He suffers from erectile dysfunction, a condition which also affects Chris Brown, as documented by that unforgettable Rihanna song, 'Rude Boy'.

Top to toe in tail-lights

Top-to-toe in TAIL, more like. Amirite?!

Oh, I got red lights on the run

ROOOOOOOOXANNE!

Always use protection when in the presence of red lights. And when in the presence of Chris Rea.

But soon there'll be a freeway

That last word is surely misspelt.

Get my feet on holy ground

Sudden Christ(mas)-induced shame?

So I sing for you

Though you can't hear me

Because my mouth is attached to your vagina and/or penis.

When I get through

And feel you near me

Oh. My. God.

I am driving home for Christmas

Driving home for Christmas

With a thousand memories

A.K.A. WANK BANK.

I take look at the driver next to me

He's just the same

Just the same

The world is full of perverts. Voyeurs watching voyeurs.

Top to toe in tail-lights

Oh, I got red lights on the run

I'm driving home for Christmas, yea

Get my feet on holy ground

So I sing for you

Though you can't hear me

When I get trough

And feel you near me

Driving in my car

Driving home for Christmas

Driving home for Christmas

With a thousand memories

The insistent ramblings of a depraved sex addict who's clearly seen Crash too many times.

The day after I started drafting this insightful piece, comedian Brian Limond tweeted his own variant:

(Angry Badger clearly angry there at the possibility of Limmy selling 'oot' by tweeting Christmassy things at Christmastime. Tut tut, Limmy)

Le Sigh.

Merry Christmas or happy holidays or Yappy Yule Log or whatever the heck you wanna call it. Take yer pick. Be careful on the roads when you're driving home for Christmuff. And a happy New Year, assuming we make it through the Mayan Apocalypse.