It's two different animals. We had pigs that we herded into one area, and we had sheep that we herded into another. It's the price of one XTC's worth of joy. That song presses those happy buttons again for me. I'd had a loving lobotomy.
Moulding is embarrassed by the suggestion.
I'm the one who looks like a potato. I felt discarded, hurt and used for purposes of being ridden from point A to point B to win something for someone else. In the loping, bluesy rant, Partridge parodies his condition by drunkenly slurring his words. Country songs make an entire living out of doing this. And then, as an end section, I thought we would smash the two of them together and make a further section - almost like a spire on top, made of all the essential strands of the two songs.