Brother Biscuit-Banjo

This

I told Brother Binky to use the plug when he shaves to save water.

Brother Binky - My new poem about men (man).

What a man?

Always pay my money to the tax man.

Talk to me like I'm a hippy yeah man.

                                            Can you be an old man and a new man?

                                              Never drop a bomb like Harry Tru man.

Will you come and read my meter gas man?

                                           Like to go in straight lines like a Ro man.

Shopping gets delivered by a van man.

Glad to have it dropped off by a hu man.

Eat so much one day I'll be a fat man.

Dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner Batman.

Brother Biscuit-Banjo - The story of Cumberton

This is the earliest record we have of the origins of Cumberton.
It details how the first man found his way to the new land and what he found there.
The story lasts for about 25 minutes, so get comfortable, perhaps with a mug of soup with a sausage in it.
Enjoy.

Brother Biscuit-Banjo - "Fingers begins"

Like all the monks here at Cumberton, Brother Fingers was once a normal man.

The Deformed monk inside can come to the surface at any time, and for Brother Fingers it was the ice bucket challenge which changed his life forever.

This is the first song that he created after the change took place just over a year ago. Good work Brother Fingers, don't stop believing, hold on to that feeling.

Brother Fingers - There's a bounty on my head

Brother Finger's new song

Brother Binky's poem about butter

THE YELLOW QUANDRY

Is butter good, or butter bad?

And what's the best I ever had?

A full fat block that's full of salt?

But then we're told that salt's at fault.

                                                   Unsalted butter looks the same,

But is this butter free from blame?

It still has fat and that's bad too,

Good fat, bad fat, I wish I knew,

Which one was best and safe to use,

Is margarine the better news?

I heard a fact regarding that,

Twas made for getting turkeys fat.

It's just like plastic, dead and cold,

Won't interest fly's and won't grow mould.

Dear butter God I'm on my knees,

Until you speak I'll just use cheese.,