One Pound Note

(Text: 'London Calling' and 'This is England' by The Clash)

Acrylic on Board

61in x 30in

2016

Text:

London calling to the faraway towns. Now war is declared and battle come down. London calling to the underworld. Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls. London calling, now don't look to us. Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust. London calling, see we ain't got no swing. 'Cept for the ring of that truncheon thing. The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in. Meltdown expected, the wheat is growin' thin. Engines stop running, but I have no fear. 'Cause London is drowning, and I, I live by the river London calling to the imitation zone. Forget it, brother, you can go it alone. London calling to the zombies of death. Quit holding out and draw another breath. London calling and I don't want to shout. But when we were talking I saw you nodding out. London calling, see we ain't got no high. Except for that one with the yellowy eye. The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in. Engines stop running, the wheat is growin' thin. A nuclear era, but I have no fear 'Cause London is drowning, and I, I live by the river. The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in. Engines stop running, the wheat is growin' thin. A nuclear era, but I have no fear. London is drowning, and I, I live by the river. Now get this. London calling, yes, I was there, too. An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true! London calling at the top of the dial. And after all this, won't you give me a smile? I never felt so much a' like a'like a'like. I hear a gang fire on a human factory farm. Are they howling out or doing somebody harm. On a catwalk jungle somebody grabbed my arm. A voice spoke so cold it matched the weapon in her palm. This is England. This knife of Sheffield steel. This is England. This is how we feel. Time on his hands freezing in those clothes. He won't go for the carrot. They beat him by the pole. Some sunny day confronted by his soul. He's out at sea, too far off, he can't go home. This is England. What we're supposed to die for. This is England. And we're never gonna cry no more. Black shadow of the Vincent. Falls on a Triumph line. I got my motorcycle jacket. But I'm walking all the time. South Atlantic wind blows. Ice from a dying creed. I see no glory. When will we be free. This is England. We can chain you to the rail. This is England. We can kill you in a jail. Big British boots go kick Bengali in the head. Police sit watchin'. The newspapers being read. Who dares to protest. After the attacker fled. Out came the batons and The British warned themselves. This is England. The land of (il)legal dances. This is England. Land of a thousand stances. This is England. This knife of Sheffield steel. This is England. This is how we feel. This is England. This is England