When it comes to comedic musicians, one of the biggest influences and front-runners is Tim Minchin. An Aussie who, in 2020, was appointed a Member of the Order of Australia, he has gained a worldwide following through his songs which touch upon religion, love, and social issues — all with a comedic twist.
An accomplished pianist, Minchin has enjoyed a great deal of fame over the years, sustaining a loyal fanbase drawn to his opinionated musings. Despite all of his jokes, puns, and punchlines, the messy-haired yet sharply dressed piano player is more than just a comedian, proving his worth as a legitimate musician and even inspiring the likes of Bo Burnham.
Here, we take a look at the greatest works of Tim — listing his greatest pieces. You can listen along with this article here.
F**k The Poor
One of Minchin’s shorter songs, this track expresses his belief that many people only donate to charity to ease their own guilt rather than out of genuine remorse.
Changing the lyrics for different occasions, he claims he’ll pay the small amount of “50 bucks to take away my guilt” with the recipient buying vodka rather than helping the less fortunate. He suggests personal perception motivates charity more than generosity, saying it’s “the force that drove Teresa” (referring to Mother Teresa) and “that school that Oprah built.”
In this short number, he reflects on the lack of real care behind some charitable donations.
If You Really Loved Me
Starting as a heartfelt-sounding love song, the mood is soon broken by the jarring line: “And if you really cared for me, you’d let me video you while you wee.”
The song escalates with absurd demands, such as “purchase forty cockatoos…and s**t the words ‘Tim is God’ on my ex-girlfriend’s Hyundai,” and “sing me passages from the Qur’an wearing nothing but a Bob the Builder hat to the tune of ‘Waltzing Matilda’,” mixing religious, national, and pop culture references.
After an extended piano solo showing his technical skill, Minchin delivers more outrageous requests, like adopting “so that you could stay thin,” before ending with a tongue-in-cheek religious jab: “I dig you like an Aussie digs pies, like born-agains dig Jesus like Jesus dug guys.”
Ten Foot C**k and A Few Hundred Virgins
Introduced as a song about “anal sex and God,” this is clearly not aimed at the devout.
Opening with “So you’re gonna live in paradise, with a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins?”, Minchin questions the logic behind religious promises of posthumous virgin encounters. Through hypotheticals, innuendo, and sharp critiques, he connects sexual imagery with religious structures, such as comparing steeples to penises.
The humour gives way to self-reflection, as he wonders if he’ll be “the first to go” to Hell for rejecting these doctrines.
Three Minute Song
Often dismissed as no more than comedic fodder, Tim’s musicality in this short song is on full display. As this track is so strict in timing, the Australian can use his well-versed knowledge of the keyboard to work the song around the confined time slot.
A song altered for whatever show he’s on and the audience present, he has performed on the Royal Variety Show, Ruth Jones’s Show in Wales, and on the Conan O’Brian Show on TBS in the USA. He even once referenced the tune when appearing as a guest on the BBC panel show Quite Interesting.
The song is a somewhat parodical reflection of pop music at the time, with Minchin confining himself to having a song that may go no longer than 3 minutes, with no profanity or inappropriate content. Using playful double entendre throughout, he repeats the term ‘For China’ to sound like ‘vagina’ and remarking he’ll get a “giggle with my fingering” before using the technique of the same name to play a piano solo.
A supposedly clean song littered with euphemisms, it constantly finds more bizarre ways to fit sexual content into the tune. He finally ends the song, finishing the piece at exactly 3 minutes (the reason for this in the song’s context is not to lose viewer interest and make it playable due to its conveniently short length).
Some People Have It Worse Than I
Opening with “Well, I wake up in the morning at 11:37 and can’t believe I have to face the horror of another f**king day,” Minchin lists petty first-world problems before contrasting them with far more serious global issues.
He jokes that he could be a starving Ethiopian, Gary Glitter’s family, or the architect of the World Trade Centre — then veers into absurd territory like “a serious nut allergy” while stranded on an island with only Snickers, Nutella, and pecan pie.
The song blends dark humour with satirical social commentary, showcasing Minchin’s awareness of world events.
Cont
Performed with the Heritage Orchestra, this provocatively titled track opens with blatant bigotry — “I don’t like Jews, neither should you” — before escalating into a list of racial and religious groups.
Near the end, Minchin reveals the song’s actual title is “Context,” changing the meaning of the opening lines. The prejudices are not against entire groups, but against individuals who commit harmful acts.
The reversal turns what seemed offensive into a clever misdirection, underscoring the importance of judging deeds rather than identity.
You Grew on Me
What starts as a comedic metaphor — “You grew on me like a tumour” — evolves into a genuinely moving ballad about love’s slow burn.
Using metaphors of illness to describe deepening affection, Minchin delivers one of his most heartfelt vocal performances. The song’s emotional crescendo, paired with his piano work, creates a poignant contrast to his usual comedic tone.
Prejudice
Billed as “a song about prejudice and the language of prejudice,” Minchin teases the audience with six letters that seem to spell a slur. After a long build-up, he reveals the word is “ginger.”
Only gingers, he insists, can call another ginger “ginger,” before recounting mock hardships of redheaded life with puns, playful insults, and comedic exaggeration.
It’s a masterclass in audience misdirection and wordplay.
Inflatable You
Described by Minchin as “a love song,” it initially sounds sincere before revealing the subject is a sex doll.
From there, every romantic line takes on new meaning — praising her lack of weight issues, her extra “air hole,” and her inability to complain. The absurd imagery escalates until the song deliberately breaks down musically, ending with a chaotic piano solo and a Beatles callback.
Thank You, God
Minchin’s magnum opus, this orchestral piece blends gospel stylings with scathing satire, mocking the idea of divine miracles.
He sarcastically thanks God for curing a friend’s mother’s cataracts while ignoring global suffering, calling God a “sexist, racist, murderous c**t.” He lists the improbable odds for such a “miracle” before concluding God must have taken a break from “giving babies malaria.”
A signature piece performed at events like the 2012 Reason Rally, it encapsulates Minchin’s blend of sharp wit, fearless social critique, and musical mastery.
