Nick Currie (born February 11, 1960 in Paisley, Renfrewshire, Scotland, UK)… Read Full Bio ↴Nick Currie (born February 11, 1960 in Paisley, Renfrewshire, Scotland, UK), more popularly known under the artist name Momus (after the Greek god of mockery), is a songwriter, writer, blogger and artist. Most of his songs are self-referential or postmodern.

For more than twenty years he has been releasing, to only marginal commercial and critical success, playful and transgressive albums on labels in the United Kingdom, the United States, and Japan. In his lyrics and his other writing he makes seemingly random use of decontextualized pieces of continental (mostly French) philosophy, and has built up a personal world he says is "dominated by values like diversity, orientalism, and a respect for otherness." He is also known in certain circles outside the U.S. as a producer. He is fascinated by identity, Japan, the avant-garde, time travel and sex. Live Momus shows are rare but when he does perform he often sings the crowd favourite 'maf' from the Stars Forever LP.
He wears a patch over his right eye because he lost the use of it after contracting acanthamoeba keratitis from a contact lens case washed with Greek tap water.

Nick Currie currently resides in Osaka, Japan.

His Majesty the Baby
Momus Lyrics

Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴

Crooked smiles, mongol eyes and a toothless grin

I hate his majesty the baby
His bowels and bladder uncontrolled
Sitting astride a throne of nappies
As though his shit were made of gold
As though a cherub on a fountain
He suckles breasts as big as mountains

Then pisses freely on the women
Who so lovingly surround him

I hate his majesty the baby
The bald and dribbling little git
The polymorphous little pervert
In every orifice a fluid
Born in a filthy burst of semen
Some tosser planted in a woman
The spitting image of a tosspot
Let us assassinate the despot!

And if you cooing mothers should come cooing around me
Will you be ready for the struggle, the struggle to be free
From the instincts of your gender, from your social role as mothers
When I execute your tyrant will you claim me as your saviour
Or simply tear a traitor limb from limb
Fuck my imbecile brother, then begin again?

I hate his majesty the baby
In my pathetic jealousy
I hear the voices of the ladies
Demanding what he's done to me?
This bastard's shitting on my shirt
I'm deep in excrement and dirt
I demand a revolution!
I demand an execution!

I'm well versed in fencing, playing the lute, and rhetoric
I am toilet trained and elegant, an effervescent wit
But the girls prefer the company of a balding little pisser
It is mothers who make men misogynists
They could have kissed me, they chose to kiss
A stupid, stinky little pool of piss

I hate you, imbecilic women
Who gawp around His Majesty
Don't you know he'll grow up, God willing
A twisted little shit like me?
I tossed him off one day at lunchbreak
One human life is not that difficult to make
Let us assassinate this despot!
His Imperial Majesty the tosspot

O King, now you have reached the Age of Reason
The facts of life are laced with treason
There is going to be a sudden palace coup
And my new mistress, Madame Guillotine, will soon be nursing you .....

Crooked smiles from toothless gums
A grating voice and a stinky bum
Mongol eyes and a toothless grin
The king is naked - let's do him in!
It's time to rise up free from tyranny
Wouldn't you rather be with me?

I'll show you, ladies, LIFE
And its imperial majesty

Overall Meaning

In the song "His Majesty the Baby," Momus expresses his hatred for a baby who sits on a throne of nappies, as though his feces were made of gold. The baby is depicted as a tyrant who pisses freely on the women who surround him, demands the attention of his cooing mothers, and is born in a filthy burst of semen. Momus demands a revolution and an execution of this despot, presumably in anger over the attention and affection granted to the baby by women, despite his own virtues such as being well-versed in fencing, playing the lute, and having an effervescent wit. He claims that mothers make men misogynists by choosing to kiss the "stupid, stinky little pool of piss" instead of someone like him. Momus invokes the imagery of madame guillotine, suggesting that the baby will meet his end as a victim of a sudden palace coup.

The song's lyrics are a commentary on society's obsession with babies and motherhood, especially in the context of male-female relationships. Momus accuses women of prioritizing the needs of their babies and treating them like royalty, rather than paying attention to men like him who have more intellectual capabilities. He suggests that society's obsession with motherhood leads to misogyny and a disrespect for men who do not conform to the traditional gender roles.

Line by Line Meaning

Crooked smiles, mongol eyes and a toothless grin
Describing the physical appearance of the baby as unappealing.

I hate his majesty the baby
The singer has a strong dislike for the baby.

His bowels and bladder uncontrolled
The baby has no control over his bodily functions.

Sitting astride a throne of nappies
The baby is placed on a throne-like structure made of diapers.

As though his shit were made of gold
The people around the baby treat his excrement as precious.

As though a cherub on a fountain
The baby is likened to a cherub, a mythical creature associated with angels.

He suckles breasts as big as mountains
The baby feeds on large breasts without any shame or inhibition.

Then pisses freely on the women
The baby urinates without any regard for those around him, including the women taking care of him.

Who so lovingly surround him
Despite the baby's behavior, the women are still caring for him.

The bald and dribbling little git
The baby is described as bald and drooling.

The polymorphous little pervert
The baby's indiscriminate behavior is likened to that of a pervert.

In every orifice a fluid
The baby secretes different kinds of bodily fluids from every orifice.

Born in a filthy burst of semen
The singer refers to the conception and birth of the baby in crude terms.

Some tosser planted in a woman
The singer believes the father of the baby to be a worthless person.

Let us assassinate the despot!
The singer suggests killing the baby or getting rid of him in some way.

And if you cooing mothers should come cooing around me
The artist addresses the mothers around him who are baby-talking to the baby.

Will you be ready for the struggle, the struggle to be free
The artist poses a rhetorical question about whether the mothers are prepared to break free from their maternal instincts.

From the instincts of your gender, from your social role as mothers
The singer believes that maternal instincts are tied to gender and social roles.

When I execute your tyrant will you claim me as your saviour
The singer offers to save the mothers from their role as caregivers once the baby is gone.

Or simply tear a traitor limb from limb
The mothers may react violently towards the artist for suggesting getting rid of the baby.

Fuck my imbecile brother, then begin again?
The artist questions why the mothers chose the baby instead of him or others that they may perceive as more suitable.

I hear the voices of the ladies
The artist is aware of the women's opinions about him and the baby.

Demanding what he's done to me?
The singer wonders why the baby is getting more attention than him.

This bastard's shitting on my shirt
The baby's feces have landed on the artist's clothing, signifying his unwanted presence.

I demand a revolution!
The singer wants a radical change in the treatment of the baby and the attention he receives.

I'm well versed in fencing, playing the lute, and rhetoric
The singer lists his skills to showcase his superiority over the baby.

I am toilet trained and elegant, an effervescent wit
The singer takes pride in his manners and wit as opposed to the baby's lack of control over his bodily functions.

But the girls prefer the company of a balding little pisser
The artist is jealous that despite his skills and manners, the girls are still more interested in the baby.

It is mothers who make men misogynists
The artist suggests that mothers are responsible for creating men who hate women.

They could have kissed me, they chose to kiss
The singer is bitter that the women chose to be with the baby instead of him.

A stupid, stinky little pool of piss
The singer derogatorily describes the baby as a small, dirty object.

I hate you, imbecilic women
The artist is full of contempt for the women around the baby.

Who gawp around His Majesty
The women idolize and fawn over the baby.

Don't you know he'll grow up, God willing
The artist acknowledges that the baby will eventually grow up.

A twisted little shit like me?
The singer wonders if the baby will end up being like him, twisted and bitter.

I tossed him off one day at lunchbreak
The artist confesses to masturbating and possibly thinking about harming the baby.

One human life is not that difficult to make
The singer believes that human life is not that valuable or difficult to create.

O King, now you have reached the Age of Reason
The singer addresses the baby as if he were a king, but now that he is grown up.

The facts of life are laced with treason
The singer suggests that the truth about life has been kept hidden as a form of betrayal.

There is going to be a sudden palace coup
The artist forecasts a revolution or overthrow of the ruling class, which includes the baby.

And my new mistress, Madame Guillotine, will soon be nursing you .....
The artist warns the baby that there will be consequences once the revolution takes place.

The king is naked - let's do him in!
The singer suggests that the perception of the baby as a king or ruler is false and it is time to get rid of him.

It's time to rise up free from tyranny
The singer wants to overthrow the oppressive regime of the baby and those who support him.

Wouldn't you rather be with me?
The artist tries to persuade the women to leave the baby and be with him instead.

I'll show you, ladies, LIFE
The artist promises to show the women what life is truly like without the baby ruling their lives.

And its imperial majesty
The artist sarcastically refers to the baby as an imperial majesty.

Contributed by Liliana Y. Suggest a correction in the comments below.

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