You say, “Work on, wipe the glasses, my girl.”
And just slip me a dirty six-pence.
And your pennies will be taken, and your beds will be made,
(But I doubt if forty winks will come anybody’s way)
And you still don’t know in hell who’s talking,
You still don’t know in hell who’s talking.
Still one fine day there’ll be a loud bang from the harbour,
And you’ll ask, “Jesus Christ, what was that bang ?”
And you’ll see me standing right behind the window,
And you’ll say, “Why has she got the evil eye ?”
And the ship, eight sails shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, Sir,
Will be aimed at this town.

So then lads, it’s time for tears, no more laughs at the bar,
For the walls will be at your ankles.
And look out, lads, the town will be flat as the ground,
This dirty shit hotel will be spared wrack and ruin
And you’ll say, “Who is the fancy bitch lives there ?”
You’ll say, “Who is the fancy bitch lives there ?”
There’ll be rows of people running round the hotel
And you’ll ask, “Why should they have spared this hovel ?”
And you’ll see me in the morning leaving lightly
And you’ll say, “That one, her , she lived there ?”
The same ship, eight sails shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, Sir,
Flies crossbones and skull.

In the midday sun a hundred men will step ashore
All tramping where shadows crawled.
They’ll lay their hands on men, hiding shit-scared behind doors
Lead them in chains here before this silent woman,
And they’ll say, “Well, which ones shall we kill ?”
They’ll say, “Which ones shall we kill ?”
Come the dot of twelve, it will be still in the harbour,
When they ask me, “Well, who is going to die ?”
And you’ll hear me whispering, oh, so sweetly, “All of them!”
And as the soft heads fall, I’ll say, “Hop-l!”
That same ship, eight sails shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, Sir,
Disappears with me.

(The guests enter. Ulf Aminde goes directly to the pianist and begins to read accompanied by her piano)

Ulf Aminde:

Dear dad, I am doing well. How about you, How are you? When are coming home? We are waiting for you to come home again. Will you bring me something? I was bothered again by Kleo in school. I didn’t do anything and she came from the back and pulled my ears. When are you coming? I am making a band with Marta.  I hope you are doing well, you always have to work so much. Today I listened again to the song “Pirate Jenny” in Mum’s computer. I listened to it many, many times. Lost of love, Marie.

And the ship, eight sails shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, Sir,
Will be aimed at this town.

I have read this letter to you, from my daughter who writes to me because I am so often away from home. She wonders why I am away and not with her, and I wonder why she likes so much the song of Pirate Jenny. Perhaps I could be the captain of such a boat that makes Jenny so happy.

That same ship, eight sails shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, Sir,
Disappears with me.

Felix Ensslin:

When I think of Jenny, I make totally different associations. Jenny Müller, Jenny Jetke, Jenny Ulmaier, there is this sort of secret society of Jennys here in Germany, women that are now 44, 45, 46 years old and they are all called Jenny. And one realizes this all of a sudden, when you are in a party, in a children’s party perhaps, and in one corner you can see one Jenny, then in the other corner there is another Jenny, and she says, I know you, but she does not continue talking. And then of course you wonder, what is that supposed to mean? And when you do a little research, you realize they always had their holidays in the same place,  In the SDAJ (socialist working youth),  in Rostock, in Dresden, and of course their parents were all in the DKP (German communist party), and then the daughter had to be called Jenny, like the daughter of Karl Marx. One of those Jennys came to me and said: Hey Felix, Do you remember, we were together in the communist, anti-authority toddler school in Charlottenburg, and I said, Well to tell you the truth that memory is not that present right now, and then she showed me this picture, saying “Look at this picture, that is you” and I could see six, seven children, all naked, painting the walls, drawing, running around, and there were wooden blocks and on one of them there was this one child sitting, very shy and silent, and wearing clothes, and that was me.

(The guests enter. Ulf Aminde goes directly to the pianist and begins to read accompanied by her piano)

Ulf Aminde:

“Lieber Papa, mir geht es gut. Wie geht es dir? Wann kommst du? Wir warten, dass du wieder nach Hause kommst. Bringst du uns was mit? Heute bin ich in der Schule wieder von Kleo geärgert worden. Ich habe nix gemacht und sie kam von hinter und hat mir auf die Ohren gehauen. Wann kommst du? Ich mache jetzt mit Marta eine Bande. Ich hoffe dir geht es gut, immer musst du viel arbeiten. Heute durfte ich wieder die “Seeräuber Jenny” hören, auf Mamas Computer. Ich habe es ganz, ganz viele male gehört. Viele liebe Grüße, Marie.

Und ein Schiff mit acht Segeln und mit fünfzig Kanonen wird liegen am Kai.”

Diesen Brief hier lese ich vor, der ist von meiner Tochter, die mir schreibt, wenn ich viel unterwegs bin und ich frag mich natürlich, warum bin ich jetzt hier, warum bin ich nicht da, bei ihr, aber ich frage mich vor allem auch, wenn sie so gerne das “Jenny – Lied” hört, ob ich eigentlich der Kapitän sein kann, der das Boot, auf das sich die Jenny freut, lenken wird.

Und das Schiff mit acht Segeln

Und mit fünfzig Kanonen

Wird beflaggen den Mast.

Felix Ensslin:

Also wenn ich an Jenny denke, dann kommen mir erstmal ganz andere Assoziationen, Jenny Müller, Jenny Jetke, Jenny Ulmaier, es gibt so eine Art Geheimgesellschaft von Jennys hier in Deutschland, von Frauen, die sind alle so 45, 46, 44 Jahre alt und die heißen alle Jenny. Und die erkennen sich auch alle gegenseitig, wenn man auf einer Party ist, auf einer Kinderparty und in der einen Ecke sagt eine, sie heißt Jenny, dann sagt die andere Jenny in der anderen Ecke, ah, ich weiß du – aber sie spricht es nicht aus. Und dann fragt man sich natürlich, was steckt da dahinter? Und wenn man genau hinguckt, dann erfährt man, die haben auch alle ihren Urlaub immer gleich verbracht. In der SDAJ, in Rostock, in Dresden, und dann natürlich, die Eltern waren alle in der DKP, und dann musste die Tochter, wenn sie erstmal geboren war natürlich den Namen erhalten und der war ganz selbstverständlich Jenny. Nach der Tochter von Karl Marx, Jenny. Eine von denen kam neulich zu mir und hat gesagt, hey Felix, erinnerst du dich noch, wir waren gemeinsam im ersten kommunistischen, antiautoritären Kinderlager in Charlottenburg, ich habe gesagt, ne, ehrlich gesagt, so richtig lebendig ist die Erinnerung nicht, die hatte ein Foto dabei und sagte, guck dir das Foto hier an, da bist du auch drauf, und es waren so sechs, sieben, Kinder, alle nackt, die haben an den Wänden gemalt, irgendwelche Zeichnungen, zwei, drei, sind noch durch die Gegend gerannt, und es waren so Holzklötzchen, relativ große und auf einem in der Mitte saß einer, ganz angezogen. Und das war ich.

We have as well a mysterious new Klau Mich show coming up IN AUGUST 3 with Felix Ensslin, Ulf Aminde and Ellen Blumenstein. We only know that the title is “putting paid”. It will be introduced by Tabu. Here are some of the sentences that will be said during the opening monologue:

“Meine Damen und meine Herren welcome to the Klau Mich show, or, in English, the STEAL ME show. Very welcome the audience here in Ständehaus, very welcome to those who see us through local television, and very welcome to our world wide audience seeing us live. My name is Tabu. I know the name sounds funny but it is extremely common in Polynesia, where I come from, and where as you perhaps know, Tabus were invented. Polynesia. Do you know what a Tabu is, right? Do you sir? Could you name some tabus? Well, there in Polynesia, we had tabus before you here in Europe or in Greece knew the name for those things that bothered you so much, that made your life so difficult, like being in love with your mother, your father or your brothers and sisters, and finding it hard to admit it to yourselves, and then all of a sudden you found the name for that: Tabu. And so this is my name. I am a woman and I was born 25 years ago in Polynesia. French is my mother tongue. If you have been in other Klau Mich shows before… Has anyone here been in other Klau Mich shows before? yes? Then you perhaps know that I have been here since the first Klau Mich show, I am the stewardess, or the hostess, serving water to the guests, doing what they tell me to do, yes, I am a sort of servant. Do you know how the Klau Mich show begins normally? yes, indeed, first there is the host who welcomes the audience, ask questions about where do you all come from, looks for a bit of audience participation, like singing… or answering questions… and then the show begins. Do you believe in audience participation? Do you? Do you? You? The difference today, is that there is no host. There is no host!! Don’t ask me why… perhaps it has to do with the fact that documenta is now in its second half already and a lot of things don’t work anymore an a lot of artists are leaving. So here the host wasn’t there and then, in panic, they asked me- Tabu, you must be the host. Mais monsieur, je ne sais pas comment être le host. But Tabu, you have been here from the beginning and you know how it goes. Oui monsieur, mais je ne connais pas le invités je ne connais rien. Tabu, you do it and that’s an order; and now good bye I am going on holidays. Good bye.

So here I am, there is nobody else. Yes, I am the hostess, a servant if you want. I don’t know who the guests are; I don’t know what they are going to talk about. I know nothing, je ne sais rien, quoi!! I know the title, as you know it: putting paid. What does it mean? I did my job well, I looked it up: Putting Paid means-

(Tabu reads from a paper)

Putting paid: something has been terminated, and paid. Putting paid to something. It means that something is over, it bothers us no more. Someone was annoying, now he no longer sucks: you put paid to him. It means also to end with the ilusion of somebody, to suddenly stop someone from being able to do what they want or hope to do. It also means that something is finally done, and now there is time and space to start something new. It also means that something is no longer important.

But that’s all I know, I don’t know anything else, I am nobody here, the fucking hostess! Lights dim in the public, the light concentrates on the stage, very powerful- Tabu goes to the record player while repeating- the fucking hostess… the fucking hostess… I am a servant… I am…

Ladies and Gentlemen, Pirate Jenny!”

http://youtu.be/aFP3x4bKpZE