COUSIN BRUCE

My cousin’s been staying with me for a week

It’s driving me mad, I must say

The things that he does make me holler and shriek

I hope that the bugger won’t stay

‘Cause when he’s been out with his mates for a drink

He lets himself down, a lot more than you’d think

Like combing his pubic lice into the sink

And forgetting to rinse them away

Oh cousin Bruce, why the hell did you come?

Go back to Oz; you’re a pain in the bum

He’s loud and he’s crass and incredibly rude

Whenever my friends come to call

He eats like a pig, with his mouth full of food

He’s grateful for nothing at all

It seems he’s addicted to prawn vindaloo

It’s fatal to follow him into the loo

But hey, he’s my cousin, so what can I do?

I’m banging my head on the wall

Oh cousin Bruce, why the hell did you come?

Go back to Oz; you’re a pain in the bum

And boy, is he boring! He never shuts up

He farts and he’s drunk all my tea

His favourite film is Two Girls and One Cup

That’s something you don’t want to see

I’ve had it to here, I can’t take any more

I wish I could kick his arse out of the door

And tell him “Get lost or I’m calling the law

Go home and forget about me”

Oh cousin Bruce, why the hell did you come?

Go back to Oz; you’re a pain in the bum

The Dogging Song

I could write some silly rhyme

As a way to pass the time

But it wouldn’t help me chase away the blues

I don’t drink and I don’t smoke

And I don’t understand Sudoku

And I’m running out of themes for self-abuse

So on Friday night I’ll end my week of slogging

With a pleasant way of pushing back the boundaries of shame

‘Cause I do enjoy a little bit of dogging

It’s a highly social network where nobody knows your name

On a dark and steamy night

It’s a most inspiring sight

Watching bodies slowly writhing on the ground

And the dropping of the drawers

Leads to thunderous applause

With the noise of one hand clapping all around

Yes, I do enjoy a little bit of dogging

Down a country lane at midnight, in a car or on a porch

As I give myself a very gentle flogging

With my right hand on the business and the other on the torch

If you have some time to kill

It’s a special kind of thrill

Seeing other people get their ends away

And you never notice faces

‘Cause you’re looking other places

So you wouldn’t recognise them in the day

Now please do believe me when I tell you that it

Is a harmless entertainment with no reason for regrets

But I hope my girlfriend doesn’t catch me at it

‘Cause she thinks I’ve only gone to buy some late-night cigarettes

Yes, I do enjoy a little bit of dogging

Down a country lane at midnight, in a car or on a porch

As I give myself a very gentle flogging

With my right hand on the business and the other on the torch

GRANNY’S OAK

They’ve cut down the oak tree in Granny’s back garden

The one with the humorous bulge

They carried it off without begging her pardon

For reasons they wouldn’t divulge

And even though Granny was fond of that tree

She grudgingly had to admit

Her view was improved to a startling degree

And it brightened the place quite a bit

What’s more, as our Granny’s so strictly devout

Once the woodsmen had finished their labours

She hurriedly fished her binoculars out

And proceeded to spy on her neighbours

At first they all looked quite a virtuous lot

Conventional, boring and clean

But finally, Granny found one who was not,

The fellow at Number Fourteen

Yes, now she could see what old Sammy Divine did…

Behaviour that you’d throw the book at

She told me, “I’ve always been pretty broad minded

But some things, you don’t want to look at!”

Apparently, Sam had been at it for years

With nobody any the wiser

He kept re-enacting the “Three Musketeers”

With a goat and a bottle of Tizer

The things he got up to whilst perched on a shelf

Were so shocking, she had to look twice

It seemed that the goat was enjoying itself

And that wasn’t terribly nice

When Animal Welfare appeared in the yard

Of Sam and his bearded companion

They found him disguised as the Marquis de Sade

And the goat was dressed up as d’Artagnan

But now that’s all over, there’s nothing to see

She’s found curiosity can die

She’s dug up the stump of that trusty oak tree

And planted a great big Leylandii

Will Hames

Bang It on the Wall

“Bang it on the wall,” she said

“The neighbours won’t object

I know it doesn’t bother them

I went around and checked

I’ve asked the folk at ninety eight

And those at ninety four

Say if the banging doesn’t help

Then slam it in the door”

It’s getting rather crusty now

A nasty shade of grey

And there’s a crack right up the back

I’m very sad to say

I’ve done my best to straighten it

I’ve brushed the fuzzy parts

And sprayed it with deodorant

To neutralise the farts

She thinks I ought to throw it out

I’ve often heard her say

The dustman wanted fifty quid

To take the thing away

I’d like to turn it into cash

I thought perhaps I’d try it

I took it to the auction rooms

But no one dared to buy it

The Council’s special helpline

Were no help at all because

They put the phone down on me

When I told them what it was

It looks as if we’re stuck with it

There’s no one else to call

So bear with me a moment

While I bang it on the wall.

Norwegian Blue

with apologies to Monty Python

This parrot is no more, my man

What you just sold to me

You try to wake him, if you can

For he has ceased to be

There’s no point getting loud and rough

He’s quit this world of toil

He’s had enough, and now he’s shuff…

…led off this mortal coil

He’s joined the choir invisible,

He’s took his final walk

And your assertion’s risible

That he’s just tired and shagged out after a particularly long squawk

You nailed him to the perch, you fraud

D’you take me for a prat?

He isn’t pining for the fjords

What kind of talk is that?

In this here parrot’s book of life

He’s wrote his final chapter

His metabolic processes

Are not a current factor

I now insist on recompense

Yes, that’s what I’m demanding

This parrot’s stuffed, in every sense

His plumage notwithstanding

If I don’t get a pet what squawks

I’ll take it out on you

You’ve got a slug? It sings? It talks?

Well, that’ll have to do

Nonconformist Army

I'm a member of the Nonconformist Army
An offshoot from the League of Awkward Gits
We're united in our rancour
We're obstructive and cantankerous
Our uniform is anything that fits

I'm a member of the Nonconformist Army
Our enemy's the System, don't you know
Any member's charged with treason
If he stoops to rhyme and reason
And neglects to find a wobbly he can throw

I'm a member of the Nonconformist Army
We march away from any passing trend
Oh, how numerous this band is
But what I don't understand is
Why I haven't got one single bloody friend.

Will Hames

Words of Wisdom

My son, look on this hair of grey
Observe how wise I am today
And hear these words I speak to you
They rhyme, they scan: they must be true

Throughout the ages, thoughtful men
Discovered mighty truths and then
To help instruct their fellow man
They made them rhyme, they made them scan

As generations come and go
What everybody needs to know
Is formed to stand the test of time
See how it scans! Just hear it rhyme!

Yet evil men with ill intent
Mislead us and misrepresent
The painful truth I have to tell
For bullshit rhymes and scans as well.