Jason and the Arguments

Jason was a golden youth
Who lived in the city of Troy;
He went in search of the Golden Fleece
Though he never quite said woy.
Jason's gang went with him
When he went off on his wanders;
He rode a Grecian 2000
But the rest of the lads had Hondas.
"It's Jason and the Arguments!"
"Argonauts! that's what we're called;
no we're not; yes we are; no we're not;"
So arguments they were after all.

Jason's parents were vegetarian,
Voted SDP,
And had Trojan Horse No Thanks stickers
On the back of their 2CV.
But Jason was not like his parents;
Where they preached love, he would hate;
he superglued the cat to the record player
And played it at seventy eight.
But who are these valiant Greeks,
Sailing off in a pea-green yacht?
Jason and the Arguments;
No it's not; yes it is; no it's not.

They sailed in search of the Golden Fleece
That shone, as with sun-given rays;
Sheep are all like that round Sellafield,
Though it was called something else in those days.
Through the uncharted Irish Sea,
They sailed through the night, all alone
The Isle of Man hasn't got a lighthouse
'Cos it glows quite enough on its own,
And who are these valiant Greeks,
Who navigate by the Pole Star?
Jason and the Arguments;
"Yes we are; no we're not; yes we are."

By the light of the Morecambe Bay prawns
They knew their destination was near;
And when they saw Cerberus, the three-headed dog;
"This must be Sellafield; we're here!"
"Are you sure it's safe?" they asked,
In the purple light of the bay;
"Don't worry; it's perfectly safe,"
Said a spokesman from a long way away.
They were met by a two-headed maiden
Herding a four-headed cow
At a village just south of Workington
Or Not-workington as they call it now,
"Welcome to Excremont," she said,
And very appropriate too;
"Do you call yourself Jason and the Arguments?"
Yes, we do; no, we don't; yes, we do."

Though she'd two civil tongues in her heads,
Jason thought she was two faced;
She had far more breasts than he could handle
And her dress had a low-level waist.
WAre you sure it's safe?" asked Jason,
Perturbed by the two-headed spinster;
"Don't worry; it's perfectly safe,"
Called a voice from the Palace of Westminster;
"Shepherds never lose their flocks;
They can see them, lit up, on the peaks,
And as for market gardening,
We're famours for our leaks,
You must face the cross-eyed Cyclops
Who lives in a cave on the moo."
The wind was strong as they climbed the hill,
As they made their way up to his door;
It was around force 8 on the Windscale,
Though you mustn't call it that now;
It's nothing to do with Sellafield
And neither's the four-headed cow.

The giant fixed them with his baleful stare,
Which no one seemed to like.
He said: "I am the Cyclops;
My friends all call me bike;
My name is Polyphemus,
Rocks and boulders I hurl;
Mr and Mrs Phemus
Called me Poly 'cos they wanted a girl,"
Poly wasn't too bright;
Poly, in fact, was quite dim;
Which makes it all the more surprising
They named all those colleges after him.
He was no match for quick-witted Jason,
Whose longsword flashed twice in the sky
The Cyclops' ears lay deaf on the floor
And his hat fell down over his eye.
"Nothing can stop us!" cried Jason;
"Whatever tries, we shall kill!
What do you say, me brave arguments?"
"Yes, we will; no, we won't; yes, we will!"

The arguments were spoiling for a fight;
It seemed nothing could stand 'gainst their wrath
Until they saw the terrible beast
That lay, like a curse, in their path.
The fearsome seven-headed Nolan
Guarded the Golden Fleece;
Jason looked for an argument;
They were suddenly halfway to Greece.
The seven-headed singing Nolan,
A sight no man can face;
And whenever one head got married,
Two more grew in it's place.
The ultimate fast breeder;
Jason called it a day.
"It's nothing to do with Sellafield."
Said a voice from a long way away.