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(to the tune of The Teddy Bears' Picnic)
By Robin Adams, as performed in 2006 at Kirkby
An island set in a silver sea, a tropical paradise,
But one where scandal, plots and rifts, division and splits are rife.
The pop'lace are bored, of comforts bereft;
The ruler from his people is cleft;
There's many, many cleavages in Utopia.
A cleavage of each shape and size that any man could name,
Thet the thin and flimsy fabric of society barely contains.
They'll burst forth in a public display
Of indecency soon - but, they say,
Today's the day we're meeting the Flow'rs of Progress.
Flowers come from En-g-land, the greatest single land the world has ever known.
Phantis and Scaphio stop still and sneer; they are the villains here, the power behind the throne.
For this, Tarara is the tool. Is he from Liverpool? Or I think that he's meant to be Welsh.
They'd rule this land together forever, but Zara saw their plot; she's gone to rescue Utopia.
She's crossed the sea to a magic land of power, wealth and fame,
Ruled over by a glorious queen - Victoria is her name.
Her sisters are English ladies now.
We'll meet them soon, and learn from them how
To do it in the English style in Utopia.
They know the things all schoolgirls know who're raised in the English way:
There's lots of wonderful things to eat, and marvellous games to play.
And "English ladies always toss" -
So Sophie says, and she's the boss;
And so say I, and so say the Flow'rs of Progress.
A yank, two tarts, an in-joke, dominatrix, and a chef,
And a man in pants so tight that you can see he's getting stiff.
So that's the race they call the Brits.
But no-one now can find Captain Fitz,
And where's Zara gone? She's plucking a Flow'r of Progress.
Flower plucking's lots of fun! Come pluck a flower, friends, there's one or two here for everyone!
Watch them, catch them unawares. When they're not on the air, they're looking for love from anyone.
See them gaily gad about. A chair's been taken out, but noone will ever know.
The villains failed, the show's nearly ended, finale's here as soon as Fitz and Zara have finished snogging.
Which will be any second now.
Can't possibly take much longer.
One sub-plot we must still resolve before we close this play,
For Sophie hopes the king and she will court in the English way.
But, lady, he's no British gent -
An island savage, though well-meant -
Take care when you court the man who rules Utopia.
If you go down on his wood today, you're sure of a big surprise.
No British long engagement, he'll just claim you for his prize.
Your inn'cence he takes, your body he paws,
His eagle into your cloudland soars,
Take care when you court the man who rules Utopia.
Now Zara's final brainwave hits: to sell out to Channel Five.
With soaps and tits and American sports, this island shall surely thrive.
And so we put this song to bed,
I'm sorry if now it's stuck in your head;
But it's a better tune than anything from Utopia.
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