‘Bonehead’s Bank Holiday’: Dissecting Oasis’ funniest song
“Those two fucking guys are arguably two of the best comedians that Britain ever produced. As a stand-up comic, to listen to their interviews, to read them, watch them, it’s annoying how fucking funny they are.” That’s what comedian Bill Burr said about Oasis.
It’s hard to argue with him, really. There’s a catalogue of highlight reels on YouTube that show a steely-faced and resolutely confident Gallagher brothers, reeling off one-liner after one-liner during the media appearances for the band’s heady 1990s domination.
It was all a part of the mischievous charm that was Oasis during that decade. Like the school children at the back of the classroom who would endlessly mess around but then raise a smile and a knowing nod at the teacher, who would eventually let them off. And let’s not make a mistake here, the music was paramount to Oasis’ success, but the aforementioned charm was clearly sprinkled into the entire delivery and with that, enabled the band to galvanise the masses.
But besides the media day quips and the on-stage jokes in between songs, the band and, more importantly, Liam knew that when the music started, that was when it was time to switch on. The confrontational yob that spewed out pointed comedy to all that stood in front of him could switch in an instant, becoming heartfelt, tender and deeply artistic.
The brothers’ hidden tenderness was then truly celebrated on the band’s seminal sophomore album. To some extent, they shook off the grittier, punk exterior of their debut album and embraced the grand soundscapes of their sentimental rock ballads.
But this time, the band were quietly cooking up a quite ridiculous catalogue of B-sides. A selection of off-cuts that would rival the first picks of any band operating as their contemporaries. As serious pieces of music as they all were, there was perhaps one track that stood out as a means of fun for both Gallagher brothers, whose mischief had been otherwise hemmed in musically.
Somewhat of a cousin to ‘Digsy’s Dinner’ was ‘Bonehead’s Bank Holiday’. It was drenched in Beatles-esque sonic found and almost sounded like Noel was holding court in a pub, reeling off the song’s story as a belly-laughing anecdote. “She said her name was Dot / She didn’t half talk a lot / I couldn’t tell if she was mad or not” Noel sings, descending down the sonic helter skelter. Then, perfectly, at the end of his tale, the song breaks out into a chorus of triplet la’s, inviting all those in the pub with a beer in hand to join in.
While the song itself has no real reference to Bonehead, the idea that this happy-go-lucky story is set in the world of his hapless bank holiday makes it all the more funny. It’s a typically bizarre idea of someone perennially half-cut that has not only somehow made it to fruition, but has done so by materialising into something good. Ultimately, it’s nonsense, but in the 1990s, Oasis could turn that into brilliance.
