Review: Mr.B The Gentleman Rhymer – Flattery Not Included

Mr.B The Gentleman Rhymer – Flattery Not Included is a humourous Chap Hop album with comedy, jazz, electro swing, and rap where comedy rap, jazz rap, and electro swing meet each other. You have refined and sophisticated lyrics along with advanced topics. His songwriting is quite lengthy and extensive. His songs have some exquisite lengthy songwriting skills.

There are highbrow parody songs on the album such as Straight out of Surrey (Straight Outta Surrey) and Let Me Smoke My Pipe. Those are the highlight parody songs of the album.

His debut album was an idealised version of Edwardian life during the Edwardian period of British history during the reign of King Edward VII which lasted from 1901 to 1910. As a proper “Gentleman Rhymer” Mr.B raps and conducts himself in a dignified, modest manner throughout the entire album of course. He uses the most prestigious form of spoken British English known as Received Pronunciation on all his songs. His accent gives his album a dignified intellectual edge.

Sherry Monocle is a posh intellectual Chap Hop based rap song about Mr.B The Gentleman Rhymer being attracted to a woman while drunk off a type of strong wine called Sherry. His antiquated classy Sherry monocle is a refined adaptation of beer goggles.

Mr.B met her at the Jubilee Perfumery. There was a rumour Mr.B and her were indulging in some rudery scandalous behaviour. It was true you see. Although it prudently eluded Mr.B. Mr.B is a student of the University of Verse as-well as fert and free speech. And weeks had gone by.

Well that’s not strictly true. She said, “bye”. And then she left him. Bereft of hope that someday he might make her his own. Or take her to Rome or at least bake her some scones. But she left him alone with nothing but his rhymes. And his palms and his numerous balms. But she abstained from Mr.B’s charms when he opened his arms. He duly attempted a pass but she left him in the khazi on his arse. Mr.B was vastly unaware of her intentions as she was hiding something in her unmentionables. Mr.B though she really was a tease. But she had a venereal disease! Mr.B’s advances may have doubled his chances of contracting her venereal disease.

Mr.B rather likes the idea of her pleasing him. But he doesn’t want to go out like Eazy-E. She handed Mr.B her number and said, “If you want to call.” But Mr.B is afraid he rather had on his Sherry monocle. And when he awoke, he was heartened to note he was at her place. He couldn’t finish his porridge if he had to look at her face over the breakfast table in confusion over the events that occurred which he didn’t remember due to his state of drunkenness.

So the conclusion Mr.B had succumbed to was make a bloody run for it. So he bolted to the door. But the woman jolted him to the floor in a rage. Mr.B tells her he is engaged to someone. Mr.B said, “I’m sorry old girl but I’m engaged.” This was perhaps not the best course of action for him to take. She grabbed a hold of his arm and said, “Stay or it’ll break!” She let him up and made some allusions to love. But she had hands like bally wicket-keepers gloves. He gave her her reason to call him a ruddy pest. But when he went downstairs, it was a bloody awful mess! That is how and why he revolted.

He thought this woman was a Hottentot. But she had a rather rotten bot! Mr.B uses the term “Hottentot” to mean the chap equivalent of a “big booty hoe.” He thought he wanted her to call. But he was sporting his antiquated classy Sherry monocle. She had no need to call Mr.B a pest. But when he went downstairs, it was a bloody awful mess!

Mr.B gives everyone a piece of his mind in a gentlemanly manner with his song A Piece Of My Mind. He gripes in a dignified, modest manner about the lack of manners from people in society to usage of bad grammar which bother him.

The misuse of apostrophes is preposterous to him. The misuse of apostrophes offends his very soul from his brogues to his bowler hat. It’s a whole lot of guff. It makes him want to take someone roughly by the lapels of their blazer and haze them.

It also eludes Mr.B how people can be so unruly. He truly despises rudesbys. So you’d better bust a move or you’ll be trussed up to within an inch of your life. And Mr.B will say to the doorman, “I’m going back inside to give him a piece of my mind.” It’s your folly you know. You should never have tried to get inside in those clothes. They’re an abomination to such an establishment. This could only condone your banishment.

Straight out of Surrey (Straight Outta Surrey) is the posh Chap Hop and comedy rap parody of N.W.A. – Straight Outta Compton with Chap Hop and electro swing elements. This is one of Mr.B’s more highbrow parody songs.

The original song begins with the opening line “You are now about to witness the strength of street knowledge”. Mr.B is parodies this intro with his comparative cricket knowledge and Chap Hop knowledge. That line is replaced with “You are now about to witness the extent of cricket knowledge” Mr.B’s cricket knowledge.

Straight out of Surrey is a gentleman rhymer named Mr.B. He is friendly with chaps with an air of mystery. Had he been poised to be sad, he would have got some more shag. Squeeze it out the pipe and declare it is a voice brag. It’d be super if you dined with him. The constabulary pop in for a swift tea. He doffs his hat at a passer when he is going out in public. Because Mr.B is a proper chap, his mustache is required to be constantly trimmed and waxed. So he uses a hair dye solution called Grecian 2000.

Please don’t grumble. Try to act humble. You embarrass yourself when you bumble going on about your mother like that with a hat that’s jaunty angled. Mr.B says that a proper “Gentleman Rhymer” should conduct himself in a dignified, modest manner.

The shag is so smooth. Mr.B’s got a chair by the fire so he shan’t move. Talk of murder is so tawdry. Mr.B has a crime record like Charles Hawtrey. A good Duncan Fearnley is the tool. My dear boy, you bowl like a fool at cricket. He’ll take you to The Oval maybe. Mr.B. is such an avid cricket fan that he has his own personal box seat there. On hand to observe Mike Brearley.

And when Mr.B is with the bat, he is batting straight out for Surrey. He’ll keep bowling his arm straight as he will never chuck. You’ll be out third ball in a hurry. But you don’t dare chuck at him. For when he is at the crease it’ll be a duck. He attacks the ball with vigor with the strength and force he hits with. His score gets bigger and you know this. He’s knocked it on the scoreboard to show this. Mr.B really doesn’t mind if you don’t rate these chaps. For their country, they’ve got a hundred caps. He’ll send you packing with a legal straight arm. He’ll whack another boundary in a minute. Mr.B goes to find a gap in the outfield to go and fill it. So if you’re on a deck chair in the front row, you best watch yourself. You might get rather miffed. Which of course you’re entitled to.

Mr.B will stroll over there in his whites and frighten you. But when a jolly Hottentot from the seats throws the ball back in bits, he will charm her with wits and with her blouse signed. She’ll leave ecstatic. Mr.B is so charismatic! The definition is clear. You’re the witness of a grilling. That’s taking place before a gruel. You may give MR.B a little lip. But a sledger like you gets hit down the bowling strip like Dennis Compton.

Let Me Smoke My Pipe is Mr.B’s dignified, modest cover of DJ Kool – Let Me Clear My Throat.

Mr.B likes to smoke his pipe with a cup of tea that is Lapsang Suchong and devilled kidneys. His pipe smells nice. Why would anybody want to stop him? Mr.B is a man of taste and finesse. But he must get something off his chest. He’ll abide by the laws of your watering holes. But he won’t stand in the rain with a pack of ruddy proles puffing on their Marlboros or Mayfair Lights. Or worse, those herbal trade fair types.

If he was in the club with a broadsheet waiting for a pinky rub on his bored feet, he would watch them from the window in their sportswear shoes. Now he’s got to go out and be bored there too. So Prime Minister Sir, this just won’t do. The smoke’s all gone, but now the pubs smell of wee. Won’t you come and smoke a pipe with Mr.B?

More Kissing in Porn Please, We’re British explains that Mr.B likes pornographic content that involves kissing. The song uses a warped ragtime piano over a jazz standard and amorous themes. Why can’t there be more kissing in porn? Where has all the romance gone?

Mr.B is a man of the simplest of pleasures. He’ll read an erotic pamphlet of his leisure. But never with anything else on his mind. Then making the most of the passing of time. Mr.B is a romantic at heart as you know. But he’s also starting to grow. So he’ll delve slightly deeper inside until he finds something that turns his insides on. It seems the tide has turned when all of his dreams on amorous themes. Holding hands have been dashed long before the bishop’s been bashed. The cash to be made from depravity, illicit, and filling bodily cavities in darkened lavatories have replaced the seductive arts. Why can’t there be more kissing in porn? Where has all the romance gone?

Mr.B like to think his doctrine is methodical. His theory is simple enough. A little more kissing. A little less muff is the start of a gentleman’s night timely dreams and not the extremes that are brought on these screams. He doesn’t want to see one single more rerun of some rotter chuffing in some filly’s face. He has flipped through pages of the Anamata periodical. “Good lord! That thing is the size of a tree trunk!”

And from where this gentleman rhymes, there’s no sense of whimsy. Their plots are so flimsy And 10 seconds in it’s just wall to wall mimsy. Why can’t there be more kissing in porn? All he can see is pissing and scorn. Where has all the romance gone? That’s why Mr.B likes kissing in porn.

I rate this album 5/5*****!

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Writer, narrator, research archivist, and content curator for Bout Dat Online.

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