Painting on the cover is an original artwork by V painted when he was in art school

"Opinion also seems to be divided on the collective merits of Stanshall's non-Sir Henry LPs, with most people lauding Men Opening Umbrellas Ahead as a pure 'artful' work while dismissing Teddy Boys Don't Knit as silly or whimsical. Well for heavens sake, people, the plain truth is that they're both great. Of course the sort of people who dismiss Teddy Boys... are usually those idiotic po-faced twonks who try desperately to cling onto some notion of post-punk 'We mean it, maaaaan...' ideology. If they could come out of character long enough to pull their heads out of their arses they might realise that songs like 'Armchair' and 'Tube' are the stuff which legends should be made of. As is usually the case in these situations, the reverse doesn't happen - Teddy Boys... fans love Men Opening Umbrellas... too. So who's the cunt?"

Taken from "some of the corpses are amusing" for which we thank Joe/Mike4SOTCAA with smashing extra bits by Bent Halo, TJ Worthington and The Mumbler. (But who amongst these set pen to paper - so to speak - we confess we do not know.)

Teddy Boys Don't Knit by Vivian Stanshall

1981 Charisma CAS 1153
Featuring Neil Innes, Roger Ruskin Spear, Jim Cuomo, Rosko Gee, Ollie Halsall, `Admiral' John Halsey, Pete Moss, Lennox Langton, Charmain Sheenhan, Richard Thompson, John Kirkpatrick and Rick Wakeman

- The first of many boldly honest & unflattering self-appraisals. Also a snide aside at the depressing celebration of valetudinarianism. So mush a Sane of the Tames, doncha think?
- After a good deal of Seutonius-sapping and Graves-digging - your historical roman. Still discombobulated? You won't be when you hear: SLAVE VALSE.
- Strangely smug anag. fans... Anyone out there notice that 'The Rub' was the only unusual Hubert? From the film and book: 'Sir Henry at Rawlinson End' GUMS
- A song of love for Ki (a West Calif. biter of soft centres). A song of hate for Ik (an East Afric tribe of hard screens)
- Students of slang should solve the (anything for a rhyme) line 'lapin 'til the pips go' in under half a cock. Then it's scrolls, gowns, and turbans all around. CALYPSO TO COLAPSO
- About my kid (yours too I shouldn't wonder, tho' I pray she does - wonder that is - all her life). Musically, this one must be okay - because she bounces & shouts to it - the real test. Went wobble to wubbish... Whether she'll love me for this rather personal paean when she's old enough to appreciate its rather personal functionalism - I dunno. But it's the only way I can put tears of joy & pride & big softy cuddles on record. So it's fer me then? There's loads of boink, bink & bung and other nippers are chuffed when they hear it. If I can do that - don't care what you say.
- The juke-box stops like the Patriotic Shortener, leaving you singing a diminuendo gobbledegook 'cos you don't know the bloody words. V. embarrassing! So - an air of Babel 'cept this'n is in the argot of the costermonger. Also from the film/book 'Sir Henry at Rawlinson End'. What jinks for you to work it all out. You know it makes sense.
- The whole fabric of Society rant? A socio/politco/mephitico/satirico-Chirico-co the Clown? O no - just Hubert's way of describing the lightning. As well & at last from the film/book 'Sir Henry...' "A metaphysical observation of Tartarean profundity, Ma'am" (Mr. Slodden)
- A true story given me - as was the title - by 'Screamin' T. Simmons, editor of the Rock 'n' Roll Camel-Walker, mate & rock historian. A fast-paced waxing involving no more than 3 chords (one of which remains the same for over 60 bars before the fluff & we all follow). Legs splitfully astride, no inversions, heads down on the f shape. The cellist was brusquely booted out for introducing an element of melody - this is totally unacceptable. An ideal beginner for the advanced & well past it.
& - You are what you eat - you are what you seat. Really! I've watched this sort of thing happening in my own family.
- THOCK for short (Terry His On-going Clips Keeps) Young Cumberpatch maintains a family tradition & jolly sensible too! A little something to soft-pedal in the age of oaken thighs. Sir Walter Raleigh was a stupid git not so much because he brought back the wrong shag; but because he didn't use his wampum to start his splendid bike factory the sooner. The Pipes of Peace now constitute the frame....
- How like the Widows of Laughter to mourn in such jolly colours. Song for a Barby-Doll I once knew & hope is now well & singing.
- Always wanted to be 'one of the boys'. Always riveted by the 'Back-Up Singers' (good name for an angry close-harmony group?) - it's the huge suits moving and the, the choreography. So screw the lead: let's hear it for the doo-wahs, the doo-wops & the greasy doo-dagos.
- "Lucille, send me some tissues - Man-size I pray-ay-ay" S'not entirely - a song about tunnels.
- Bags of hope here for the spiritually inclined or horizontal. While you enjoy a night out at the Grand Circus of Infinities: Big Buddha is watching you.
- Shades of Uriah, Caliban & Tartuffe - as roadies? Big Johnnie cashes yet another cheque - "is 'e? Bluddy 'Eck I thought t'lad were from Salford... Aye tha's right - 'E were a tufted-carpet salesman er summat afore t'King made 'im 'is 'personal' like. Never 'ad thought 'e'd turn nasty...... "