Sunny Afternoon

I have no idea how so many people have managed to convince themselves that Ray Davies wrote "Sunny Afternoon" as a genuine attempt to engender pity for this character. Whatever his opinions on the fairness of British tax law in the 60's, this man is a blithering idiot. This is satire and sarcasm at their most obvious, which is not to say the criticism is any less biting. Evidence, you say? Simple: this man's catalog of grievances is objectively ludicrous. The taxman has "taken everything (he's) got"? Ok, he means besides the "STATELY home", the "ICE COLD beer" (which qualifying superlative suggests, beyond the fact that he's an idiot, the existence of other luxurious appliances in his position), his "car" (which clearly not taken by the taxman since it was driven off by a frightened, abused girlfriend). Besides a home, cold beer and a car, which Davies surely recognized were precisely the luxuries that sustained regular folk the whole world 'round, I guess he has nothing. Or, as I think Davies is obviously implying, this man is whining about what has befallen him while constantly letting slip that he still lives in extreme comfort. To working class people "lazing on a sunny afternoon" is a rarity and a luxury. For this man, it is an eternal torment. Now that I think of it, did the taxman even take his yacht? He just laments that he "can't sail (his) yacht". That is a strange way to put having one's boat repo'd. More likely, he is too down and out about having to give taxes away to enjoy his God-given right to, erm, sail in a giant yacht. To give this idea some credence, consider that he asks for someone to "help (him) sail away". Davies wasn't careless with his words, and the repetition of this word suggests that he does not mean another, heretofore unmentioned boat. In fact, maybe it's not that he's too "depressed" to take his yacht for a spin- maybe he really can't "sail (his) yacht" in a practical sense. He doesn't know how to do it, and possibly had to fire a Captain who had done the sailing for him. His plea, then, of "help me, help me, help me sail away" would not be a plea for someone to join him in his escape from a painful present. It's a request for someone to do his bidding without remuneration. He deserves to be waited on, just as he deserves to be on a yacht and to smack his wife around. That part is so obvious I will not mention it beyond laughing at this plea for sympathy for his lost "car" from an abusive, driunken spouse. Anyway, I could go on, but I just had to get the truth in there as I was so amazed that so many people were missing some of the clearest satire in rock n' roll history.