Call In Sick

by Toodles & the Hectic Pity

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"You Still Look Tired. Call In Sick." - Graffiti that was on a bridge in Bristol, once.


released June 24, 2017

Toodles & the Hectic Pity are:

Callum McAllister - vocals, acoustic guitar, angsty lyrics
Max Cole - bass, vocals
Dom Mosley - drums, vocals, melodica

All music and lyrics by Callum McAllister, Max Cole and Dom Mosley (and one line by Tim Rowing-Parker).

Gang vocals provided by:

Iwan Best, Adam Cook, Tim Rowing-Parker, Harry Elder, Luke Gareth Cobham, Desperados French Tequila Flavoured Lager.

"Call In Sick" was recorded at Joe's Garage. Recorded and mixed by Tim Rowing-Parker and mastered by Bob Cooper. Released on Invisible Llama Music.

Our undying gratitude to those who've got us here:

Will Robson, Inglefest, Iwan Best and Invisible Llama Music, everyone at the Exchange, Big Mamma Studios, everyone in the following bands: WOAHNOWS, Nietzsche Trigger Finger, Dogeyed, Springbreak, Foxhol (RIP), Fifteen Years, Beach Slang, Austeros; Rory Matthews, Eloise McAllister, our parents, Hannah Carter, Fi Plummer, Gwion Christmas, Bethany Wallington for our fucking amazing album art, Danial Finlay, every punk-tual music lover who turns up bang on time to a gig.



all rights reserved


Toodles & the Hectic Pity Bristol, UK

Toodles & the Hectic Pity are a DIY punk band from the countryside near Bristol.

"A nice combination of west-country folk with a Bristolian ‘fuck it’ attitude" - Punktastic

"Catchy songs and satirical lyrics" - Opinion Overload: the Bristol Music Blog

"The worst band name I've ever heard" - Anonymous Bristol Promoter
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Track Name: Menthol Cigarettes
Maybe this is a story that we can tell our kids.
But if you don't have mine, maybe you can still tell his:
The way your hair froze to the pillow; how I can see your breath in our tiny room by the window.
Breathe in. Out. Slowly exhale.
Look at the state your body's in.

Call her up and say you're sorry.
Tell her four times not to worry.
She cannot see the way that you live.
You'll have to tell her another story.
Because Carrie's seen your messages,
the shit that litters your floor.
Because you've never felt so worthless.
And she don't love you any more.

And they say, out of your window clothes start to fly;
a sense of dread that you're gonna die;
and against the fire, silhouettes;
all your menthol cigarettes, in flames.
'Cause you know that ashes don't change,
they only really stay the same,
under your fingernails and up beneath your skin.
Track Name: I Do Not Need A Doctor (Oh My Dear)
So get yourself immersed in the culture, because you know that you've got no future, dear. You can sing all the right words, but it's always out of time and that's why it hurts, so forget what you know and all that you knew, and all the things that they really wanted you to do, and get outside and stand in line and live out your life dissatisfied.

And oh my dear, your bones crack and your lips shake with fear,
And oh my God, they say "Why hadn't she got herself a job" and they say
Oh Jesus Christ, they're tearing her apart slice by slice it goes
Fucking hell, he burns your boots and your ripped jeans as well.

So you've got yourself some new shoes and a new man, so now we can finally prove that you're human and you cry at all the right scenes, tick all the boxes in their magazines. They say "Isn't this getting a bit too graphic for your biography or for your biopic?" Blood will flow but it's ok; the camera pans out and fades away back over the city to where we met you, down in the river where we'd never forget you died, lungs filled up with oil, but at least the media caught the bad side of you, my dear.

And she says "Repeat after me, 'I was not a piece of your broken machine. I do not need a doctor or mechanic; I was not a symptom of your moral panic. And these bones sing hallowed like those girls who came before me.'" And they will scream like dead men. Witches burn off their flesh. A sentence you can't ignore when you're lying in your grave. A vague sense of dread so early in the day, but I guess they always said to you: "You only win if you don't play again."
Track Name: Call In Sick
Wake up in the morning now, muffins and coffee to get rid of that frown.
Because we don't talk to each other before 6.30am.

It's so hard to talk when you're this exhausted.
All this separation: a border between two working horses.

Wake up mid-afternoon to a pain you feel that comes on too soon.
Because the way you feel runs through your veins like a headache through your blood.

It's so hard to speak, when you feel this lonely.

And I know now why you watch television all night.
It's a kind of submission that feels all right.
And I know now why you cannot sleep.

Because you shouldn't have to work so hard to barely get you by.

You wake up at midnight. Your coffee cools by the moonlight.
All the mistakes that you've made rise up to meet your face.
It's so hard to be alive when you ache on the insides.
Insomnia will spit you out and leave you by the bedside.

'Cause they're knocking at your door, they're sleeping in your bed,
putting fire with your pitchforks, and they wish that you were dead.
'Cause there's a spectre in your bedroom running scared from the things that you might say.
Track Name: Faster than This
Two cups of coffee on an empty stomach.
Four pints of beer on an empty mind.
Because it makes me shake and it makes me nervous,
makes me vomit but it'll make me smile.

And it goes faster than this.

Do you remember the day they told you you were worthless?
Do you remember asking why?
They painted your future with a single purpose:
sing their fears and scream their sighs.

And as soon as you were born here you'd come back wasting.
Wasting all of our precious time.
But I don't put my self-worth in the hands of people who don't put respect in mine.
Track Name: Ear to the Concrete
I never really found a better way to say "I don't love you but I like you anyway. As soon as we get back together we'll be far away from here. We'll buy a one-way ticket to Canada. Maybe things will be better there, because things are so shit here."

I guess you never thought that I would see, when we would comb each other's hair by the sea. And as you push me over, the sand gets in my eyes. I guess you don't like anybody sober, and these people you despise. You never thought that we would get older but the wrinkles are growing around your eyes.

They don't really want you here. So we should go home and listen to Bon Iver.

And maybe we should spend our evening just reading books and drinking tea, Empire Strikes Back, and complaining about our families.
All the lonely people have now found some place to sleep. A sofa bed is better than an ear to the concrete.

I guess you never thought the time of day would affect you but it will anyway. All this celebration means I'm hiding in my room. I guess I don't really mind the shouting 'cause these walls are bullshit proof. I'll just spend the rest of my evening counting the drops of sweat as they fall on my boots.