Song meaning of Industrial Disease by Dire Straits

Oh boy, buckle up, folks! We're about to take a wild ride through Dire Straits' "Industrial Disease" - a song that's more twisted than a pretzel at a yoga class for contortionists. So, let's decode this lyrical rollercoaster together. Picture this: Warning lights are flashing at Quality Control because someone messed up big time and got tossed in a hole. Rumors are flying faster than a pigeon on Red Bull, and suddenly, WHAM, the walls come crashing down like a failed Jenga tower. The boardroom resembles a crime scene investigation, the washroom is leaking like a sieve, and sneaky personnel are playing hide and seek in the shadows. But hold the phone, could all this chaos just be... industrial disease? The caretaker is being roasted like a Thanksgiving turkey for napping on the job, the watchdog has rabies, and the foreman's scratching like he's auditioning for a flea circus. It's a full-blown circus of calamities, with panic on the switchboard and tongues suddenly tying themselves in knots faster than a ninja in a spaghetti-noodle-eating contest. Blame is flying faster than a dodgeball in gym class - management points fingers at employees, employees point fingers at management, and the janitor is just chilling, trying to figure out why everyone's losing their marbles over a darn sneeze. It's like a soap opera written by monkeys on typewriters - madness, I tell ya! Fast forward to the workforce collectively flipping the bird, innocence getting trampled like a doormat, and everyone and their grandma seeking compensation like it's a Black Friday sale. Oh, but wait, it gets even juicier - Doctor Parkinson strolls in like a boss, diagnosing folks with everything from smoker's cough to Betty Davis' knees. And the cherry on top? Industrial disease, baby! But hey, it's not all doom and gloom - we've got a couple of faux-Jesuses duking it out, a protest singer belting out tunes like a musical Gandhi, and a sprinkle of geopolitical commentary that's more confusing than trying to fold a fitted sheet. So there you have it, folks - a lyrical labyrinth of absurdity, chaos, and enough drama to rival an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. And just like that, we reach the grand finale, where Jesus himself catches a bad case of industrial disease. Because hey, if even the son of God isn't immune to this wacky world, then what chance do the rest of us have? And with that bombshell revelation, we bid adieu to this musical masterpiece that's as bonkers as a squirrel on an espresso bender. So, remember, folks, next time you're feeling down or under the weather, just blame it on the ol' industrial disease!