HNGGH!

See, the main reason why I didn't reproduce the OGP themed shuffle was the amount of pictures and youtubes it featured. But then, the next one along is the Tom Jones themed sPazAmp. And, to be frank, that would be nothing without the pictures. So I'll give it a go. It might take me a while. And I doubt you will consider it worth the effort. But then, that's your own damn fault. It's you that has to live with your sorry self bitch, not me. Ha! Owned in the hypothetical virtualness!

---



Feast your eyes. Drink him in. Absorb the wonder. Be disturbed (mainly by the dead, cold eyes of a killer). Slowly moisten. It's finally time. Time for the Tom Jones Redemption Memorial sPazAmp. HNNGH!


1. If Loving You is Wrong (I Don't Want to be Right)

Is it really so wrong? I mean so, yeah, right, so I have these kids. And a wife. And they, like, depend on me. STOP JUDGING ME. Yes, Tom, it is wrong, you lustful, adulterous bison of a man.



It's just any old man that can carry off the speedo/massive cross poolside look, y'know.


2. This and That
What's that Tom? You tried to do a little bit of big time "moving"? Did you start work for Pickfords, then? It's hard not to be nearly overwhelmed with pangs of empathy when he says he's had too much of this and that, and this and that is no good. I'll let you into a little secret, shall I? Yes, I shall. God appeared to me in a Father Antonio from Sunset Beach style of revelation, and declared this to be one of the five greatest songs ever recorded. FACTUS MAXIMUS.



HNGGH!

3. Kiss
WOAH! HNNGH! I don't care if you're a fat sweaty munter, just so long as you let me have a big welsh, leathery, orange go on your minge. That is, of course, Tom's interpretation. The original was more along the lines of SQUEAK! SHRIEK! I don't care if you're a fat sweaty munter, just so long as you let me have a tiny, purple, midgety go on your minge. Think I better dance now!

4. Never Tear us Apart (feat. Natalie Ibuprofen/Umbrella/Whatever)
She ruins this. She so totally ruins it. I'm not stoked about it, let me tell you. Not even slightly. When Tom kindly put on a concert in Cardiff to commemorate my birthday some years back, he did this by himself. It was, by one bystanding mathematician's reckoning, three thousand times better without the strange faced, bog-eyed, former hod-carrier for Jason Donovan's Dad blarbling all over it.

Here's Natalie in a promotional shot.



5. I'm Left, You're Right, She's Gone
The one tiny, lonely, shivering moment of musical worth in James Dean Bradfield's life. All those uneasy feelings you've had when listening to the Manics - y'know, that nagging sensation that somewhere underneath it all, behind the sub-radiohead (which is in itself sub-sixth form) lyrics, hidden by the random posturing, shitcake make-up and lumbering tuneage, there is a quite entertaining song or two struggling to be born - all point to this song.

Tom still shits all over him, of course. Not literally, mind. That's a privilege he reserves for his very special ladies.



Keep on drinking him in. Control your lust. Look at the colour. Think of the potential vitamin C. Admire the durability. DFS will have a field day with his hide, once he finally carks it (heaven forfend).

6. Motherless Child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child. Well, we all get peckish now and again, Tom. We just can't do it whilst looking cool in speedo trunks. A comely orange, libido of a muskrat, belt-buckles you could brain a burglar with, AND prone to sensitive introspection. A god amongst men? No. A god amongst gods. He could almost be a bowlie.

7. Chills and Fever
She gives you chills and fever? When she holds your hand and calls you her loving man? She's clearly riddled with diseases, Tom.



Oh, and another thing. In the Father Antonio/Sunset Beach/God type episode, he also told me that they should have kept this as the first single as it is miles better than "It's Not Unusual" (and has a smashing key change thing). FACTUS MAXIMUS TOTALUS.

8. Help Yourself
Love is like candy on a shelf. No, Tom, it isn't. TOM, STOP DOING THAT TO THE PEANUT BRITTLE. Disgusting. Yet also strangely arousing. Mmm, peanut brittle. HNGGH!

The Tom is eternal. I'll be really sad when he pegs it.

9. She's a Lady
I believe I have made my views on the lyrics of this song clear elsewhere (the song's ace, of course. It's Tom, how could it be otherwise). Never in the way, always something nice to say. I can leave her on her own, knowing she's okay alone, there's no messing. HELP ME BUILD A MOUNTAIN FROM A LITTLE POT OF CLAY. She knows what I'm about, she can take what I dish out. Good strong chin, that woman. Can really take a punch. SHE'S A LAYDEE! Doesn't get all up in me stuff when I'm out. Trustworthy, dependable, resilient. Doesn't complain. HNGGH! Really, Tom. You're better than that.

10. Delilah
Summary of lyrics. I was out stalking this woman, loitering outside her house at night. She was in. She was my woman (in my head). I might be a little bit mental. Why are you doing this to me, you scandalous whore? I could see that she was a whore, but I'm a bit mental, what's a guy to do. I waited until no one was around and knocked on. She said who the hell are you. I took offence, and stabbed her head in. As guilty as the McCanns.



Ah, with hips like that, who wouldn't forgive him? Woah!



Tom gets his beard on. Ladies (and men) get their damp on. hnggh. HNNGH!

11. Sexbomb


Thanks, but no thanks, Google Image Search (with the filter off). I prefer the Tom version.



So totally sex he can gargle microphones. Hnhh.

12. Daughter of Darkness
Woman. I can remember a woman. Warm were her kisses, and tender was she, lying there in my arms. After I stabbed her head in for being a deceitful mare. It's the Delilah business all over again. Point of (dis)Interest: Tom actually says something approaching HNNGH! in this song. Also, you have to love anyone who sings his own little backing bits. Daughter of darkness, stay out of my life (my life). No one good enough to trust with it, obviously. We bow down before you, orangey prince of durably tanned music.

13. Detroit City
Okay. Look, right, if I'm honest, no. It isn't as good as the Solomon Burke version that predates it. It certainly isn't as good as the Bobby "Blue" Bland original. But, just ask yourself this. How would they compare, crouching in naught but speedoes and a massive cross by a pool?



Much as I love you Solomon, the thought of you crouching in speedoes, or indeed anything, just made me do a sick in my mouth. Once more, the Tom wins.


14. Mama Told Me Not to Come
Mama also told me the Stereophonics were shite. She was right on both counts and, as much as I like this, it does nothing to redeem Kelly Jones or any of his music defiling friends. Poor Tom, having to suffer such trials. It's a good job he has a leathery, durable hide, having to carry tripe like the Stereomoronics. Give Liam his voice back, Kelly!

15. I (Who Have Nothing)
Another song I have made my feelings clear about elsewhere.I'll be lazy and let ctrl+v hasten the process along...

It took slightly longer than two and bit minutes (well, I felt compelled to listen to various other of his collaborations. And then waffle about them), but I listened to it. But, I'm not listening to it now. Oh no. OH NO. Now, I am listening to...

...The title is a bit of a giveaway, it's all about Tom. And, in this song, it's all about a Tom who stares at you through a window. You're eating, probably a meal, possibly with a foxy tycoon, and there's Tom, gurning at you through a window.

You're being swept off your feet, seduced by talk of the Riviera and Venice. You're very likely moistening. And then, oh, and then. You look up. There's a pair of starey eyes, a mop of unruly hair and an oversized circle of condensation, orange leathery Welshness splodged against the window pane. What do you do? Of course, you tell the Maitre'D of the hobo by the window You embrace the oddball, get married, have children and listen to the Magnetic Fields. It's Bowlie!

I'd still report him. But I fucking LOVE this song.

It's all true. God told me (earlier, with the other stuff he told me).

16. The Young New Mexican Puppeteer.
See, now, this song title always confuses me. Isn't it. Boyo (sorry, came over all Tom then. Not literally of course, that's a privilege he reserves for his very special ladies). I mean, what precisely does he mean? Is it a young, new puppeteer from Mexico, or is it a young, yet possibly experienced puppeteer from New Mexico? I have a similar problem with Super Furry Animals. Do they mean regularly furred animals that are, like, really good, or do they mean like, REALLY furry animals? ANSWER ME, DAMMIT. Either way, it's all a load of old baloney (apart from Tom's magisterial vocal stylings). Aw, let's all be good and like each other! A little lad's done a puppet show about that Jesus fella!

Bollocks, that's what I say. Not all the time, obviously. That would be quite the social hindrance.

17. Venus
Not as good as Shocking Blue (the song that is. Obviously, Tom bests them with the ease of a Big Brother contestant attempting to look like a retarded attention grabbing sea creature), better than Banananananananarama.



I won't deny that I may have got a little confused there.

18. What's New Pussycat
Tom. Tom. TOM. TOM. You do realise that the person you are describing sounds remarkably like an actual cat? I realise that you have the libido of a muskrat on viagra and are an uncontrollable bison of a man, but come on. You have to draw the line somewhere. Plus, I don't know if you've noticed - CATS DON'T REALLY HAVE ACTUAL FUCKING LIPS. Honestly, you're testing my patience.

19. Green, Green Grass of Home
Did you know this was about a prisoner on death row? Did you? I didn't. Not for years. Obviously, I found out when I was about twelve or so, but by then, it had been one of my favourite songs for about six years (that I can remember - apparently, I was a big fan of "Avenues and Alleyways" by Tony Christie and "Surrender" by Elvis before then). I was heartbroken. Poor Tom! Poor brave Tom! But then later, the realisation hits. He stabbed Delilah's head up. Of course they'd send him to the chair. It's no more than he'd deserve. No doubt he'd survive though, insulated by the durable orange leatheryness. HNNGH!

Tom's going to the moon, brb.



It might be a different Tom Jones. Oh Google Image Search, why you deceive me so?

20. It's Not Unusual
Okay, so I fixed it, I admit it. Well, it kept throwing up songs I'd already used. There is a limit to how many different Tom songs one guy can own, y'know. Look, it's hardly that strange, is it. It's not like it's completely out of the ordinary. It's not unusual.

HNNGH!



I'll have to go now, I feel somewhat weak.

Once more, with feeling...



HNNGH!

Phwoar. Bye.