For the Sake of the Song: David Ford “Cheer Up (You Miserable F*ck)”

It has been twenty years since the release of “I Sincerely Apologise for All the Trouble I Have Caused”, an album that, according to David Ford, in his wryly entertaining autobiography I Choose This, was a second chance to nearly make it in the record industry.

Ford, joined by a wonderful collection of musicians, Michelle Stodart, Demi Marriner, Beth Rowley and Ed Blunt, recently performed the whole album at the Union Chapel. This was a reminder of how good those songs were, and still are. Ford crafted a great balance of heartbreak, humour and hope in these tracks, and it was a delight to hear Ford rediscovering them on stage.

One of the album’s highlights, for me, has always been ‘Cheer Up (You Miserable Fuck)’. A song that is equal parts lullaby, pep talk and existential crisis; a song that is both heart-wrenching and oddly comforting. It begins with ghosts and dust and ends with them, too. “Ghosts, walk through the walls/They catch your rise and falls/Then sink back to sleeping again”. These aren’t horror-movie phantoms but the quieter kind; memories, regrets, the lingering presence of old versions of ourselves. In Ford’s world, the past is never quite gone; it’s just sleeping in the spare room.

Then comes the plea, “Will you shake me from myself and tell me I’m alright?” It’s a line that still cuts deep, the simple, universal yearning to be pulled out of one’s own head by someone who cares. And when the chorus arrives, “Oh you, well you are no fun/And I’m so dumb/But please let us not be lonely, again”, it is a self-deprecating confession where the brilliance lies in how conversational the despair feels.

And then, of course, there’s that line, “Cheer up, you miserable fuck”. It still raises a laugh, even as it hits with the force of truth. It’s not cruel, it’s affectionate frustration, the kind of thing you say to someone you love because you can’t stand to see them suffering. There’s something cathartic about it, that rare moment when anger, humour and tenderness co-exist perfectly.

Songs are always personal, but, for me, ‘Cheer Up (You Miserable Fuck)’ is especially so. I have a lovely memory of asking Ford to write its blunt but life-affirming message to my daughter a few years ago. He had a slightly worried look on his face, but hopefully I eased his concern when I explained that the song had always lifted her spirits. Whenever she was feeling low, I would ask whether we needed to play that song. It never failed to make her smile. I suspect that it might have been the rude word to start with, but I have always hoped that some of the cathartic message has seeped in too. Ford doesn’t know this, but he wrote that message for her during a period of real struggle. She was amazed, and a little shocked, that Ford actually did it. The poster is still up in our house.

That’s the power of Ford’s writing. His songs are never detached observations. They’re lived-in, painfully human and generous in their vulnerability. ‘Cheer Up (You Miserable Fuck)’ captures that perfectly – a song that looks depression straight in the eye, swears at it, then takes it gently by the hand.

Twenty years later, the ghosts are still walking through the walls, and the song still tells us, in its beautifully blunt way, not to give up on being okay.