What the hell is the point in wind farms? Sure they’re great if they’re in places like Germany, I mean, no one gives a damn about Germany. So why are hippies trying to get wind turbines put up a few hundred metres from my house? Not one or two turbines, oh no, but THREE. You know what, Cornwall doesn’t even need any more wind turbines. Seriously, we’ve fulfilled our 2010 quota by 80% already or something equally as great as that, and we can get to 100% without shoving them up near my freakin’ crib. Homie. So why are there hippy farmers wanting these farms? ‘Cause they’ll get rich off them. £10,000 a year for having one turbine on your land. Jebus, I bet they don’t make much of a profit, especially seeing as they only work when wind speeds are within a small range, and when there are no crows stuck in the rotors. Plus they’re noisy and can paralyse you, or even kill you. Especially when they fall on you. That’s the worst way to go, crushed by a hippy machine. It’s like the 60’s all over again, but this time, the hippies are beating nuclear, and soon to be eating nuclear. Waste that is, I’m going hippy hunting tomorrow with my wolf, Hippykill2000. That’s his real name. Honest. Anyway we’re going to force feed some hippies nuclear waste, prove to them once and for all that it’s not dangerous in the slightest.
So yeah, stop with the freakin’ turbines. A farmer or three may gain £10,000 a year each for having turbines on their land, but they do not consider the wider consequences; horses will get spooked because the blades will be going whoosh..woosh…woosh….wooooosh, and what’s more, pigs could get caught in the updraft, and pigs don’t like that. Also it will devalue my property by £100,000, leading to £50,000 less in my inheritance. Don’t worry though, I’ve got the gun ready.
Here’s a little rap I made up to preach to all those hippies the dangers of turbines.
Yo, yo, yo, Wind turbines up in the ‘hood
Aint good man, it aint no good
If you would just listen then I could
Tell you a story about Balamory
Or a guy named Cory
but better yet, I will bet
you’d rather hear about some beer
Or perhaps wind turbines, yeah
See wind turbines man they be amazing
If you’re queer and like that gay thing
So let me lay this down a min
From a bin don’t bump your chin
It could sting, yo, sting you bad.
Wind turbines ain’t a fad, lad,
Don’t get mad while I tell you
You’re crazy.
If you be puttin’ up turbines everywhere
Not only are you gonna scare
All the horses, sheep and pigs,
But when a crow wears a wig
He can’t see for shit and flies into that bit
That spins around above the ground
The turbine slows down to a halt
And it’s all that damn crow’s fault
The bolts are strained the crow’s been maimed
And janitor Steve, recently lamed
Has to come and fix this rotor
up the tower, past the motor
hang up his coat-fur, and get out his loafers
this just ruins his day, his day is ruined
by this bloody crow that did flew in
the rotor of the turbine, now his mood
it aint fine, he’s pissed, his mad, he’s being crude,
rude and needs the loo, now he’s flyin’
off the handle, his son Randle,
he’s gonna get it when Steve gets home
beat to the bone, Steve gets out
the meat cleaver, kills a beaver,
now it’s Randle’s turn to bite the dust,
now he’s bust, busted up,
and why? Randle was a good child,
nice and mild, never lied
never cried, never shied away
from any task that came his way
but today Steve got pissed
‘cause he had to leave his wife, kissed
her and went, to get this crow
outta the rotor, another blow
to Randle’s head, poor kid,
now he’s dead,
so keep in mind
if you support the wind turbine
you’re supporting domestic violence,
supporting this kid getting killed
with a meat cleaver to the head,
just lying quietly in his bed
now he’s dead, you fucking hippy.
Yo.
Fuckin' hippies.
So yeah, stop with the freakin’ turbines. A farmer or three may gain £10,000 a year each for having turbines on their land, but they do not consider the wider consequences; horses will get spooked because the blades will be going whoosh..woosh…woosh….wooooosh, and what’s more, pigs could get caught in the updraft, and pigs don’t like that. Also it will devalue my property by £100,000, leading to £50,000 less in my inheritance. Don’t worry though, I’ve got the gun ready.
Here’s a little rap I made up to preach to all those hippies the dangers of turbines.
Yo, yo, yo, Wind turbines up in the ‘hood
Aint good man, it aint no good
If you would just listen then I could
Tell you a story about Balamory
Or a guy named Cory
but better yet, I will bet
you’d rather hear about some beer
Or perhaps wind turbines, yeah
See wind turbines man they be amazing
If you’re queer and like that gay thing
So let me lay this down a min
From a bin don’t bump your chin
It could sting, yo, sting you bad.
Wind turbines ain’t a fad, lad,
Don’t get mad while I tell you
You’re crazy.
If you be puttin’ up turbines everywhere
Not only are you gonna scare
All the horses, sheep and pigs,
But when a crow wears a wig
He can’t see for shit and flies into that bit
That spins around above the ground
The turbine slows down to a halt
And it’s all that damn crow’s fault
The bolts are strained the crow’s been maimed
And janitor Steve, recently lamed
Has to come and fix this rotor
up the tower, past the motor
hang up his coat-fur, and get out his loafers
this just ruins his day, his day is ruined
by this bloody crow that did flew in
the rotor of the turbine, now his mood
it aint fine, he’s pissed, his mad, he’s being crude,
rude and needs the loo, now he’s flyin’
off the handle, his son Randle,
he’s gonna get it when Steve gets home
beat to the bone, Steve gets out
the meat cleaver, kills a beaver,
now it’s Randle’s turn to bite the dust,
now he’s bust, busted up,
and why? Randle was a good child,
nice and mild, never lied
never cried, never shied away
from any task that came his way
but today Steve got pissed
‘cause he had to leave his wife, kissed
her and went, to get this crow
outta the rotor, another blow
to Randle’s head, poor kid,
now he’s dead,
so keep in mind
if you support the wind turbine
you’re supporting domestic violence,
supporting this kid getting killed
with a meat cleaver to the head,
just lying quietly in his bed
now he’s dead, you fucking hippy.
Yo.
Fuckin' hippies.
Please promise me never to rap again.
Never, never, ever.