How’d I Get So Sweaty?

How’d I get so sweaty?
I’ve not done eff-all yet,
And still my sodding t-shirt
Is all sodden with my sweat.
It’s not like I’ve been active,
Or been out for a run,
This sweat could not be caused
By anything I’ve bloody done.
But now I’ve got these patches
And they’re with me for the day.
It was, perhaps, in hindsight,
A cock-up wearing grey.

The Adventures Of Zakk Wow

MONDAY
You’d think that, with a name like this, I’d hang around in space.
Instead I’m in a chip shop with a grimace on my face.

TUESDAY
I should be from the future and be pissing round with rockets,
But I’m buying an extension lead – my house has fuck-all sockets.

WEDNESDAY
I should be fighting aliens, traversing space and time,
Instead I’m doing washing up, as nobody likes grime.

THURSDAY
I should be crossing black holes from dimension to dimension.
Instead I’m slightly balding due to inter-office tension.

FRIDAY
I should be finding worlds, and planting flags and naming planets.
I’ve got a worktop catalogue, I’m just up to the granites.

SATURDAY
I should be stopping overlords from leaving thousands dead.
Instead I’m all hungover and I’m eating eggs in bed.

SUNDAY
I should be killing monstrous things with futuristic rays.
Instead I’m sitting on my arse and watching Songs Of Praise.

The Results Are In

We’ll start off with the audience, then view you from a wide,
Then a close-up so we see you beaming, overwhelmed with pride.
And as you start to sing the crowd will burst into applause,
Which hopefully will cover any opening-note flaws.
This isn’t just a song – we want the audience in tears,
Simultaneously sad and swinging from the chandeliers.
It’s a happy song, but heart-breaking, so folks’ll be confused,
We want truly tragic smiles, we want a lot of tissues used.
Your performance will have audiences eating from your hands,
Overwhelmed by twin emotions no-one really understands.
Your voice will crack at one point like you really are upset,
And we’ll have some TV magic that no viewer will forget.
And you’ll stand up from the stool just as you start the second verse,
And the grannies who are crying will start crying slightly worse.
Smile with sadness in your eyes and walk across the studio floor
And the tears upon the nation’s cheeks will flow a little more.
Then the stagehands cut the wires and the balloons fall from the ceiling,
And we’ve basically controlled how fifteen million are feeling.

That Bloke From That Thing Was In Here Earlier

That bloke from that thing with the people.
You know him, that one with the hair.
He was standing there, right where you’re standing.
Imagine that! Standing right there!
His name is, shit, give me a minute.
He was good in that advert before,
Where he talks to the girl from that programme
That was in that dead good thing on Four.
He’s hard to describe, he’s just normal,
He crops up on the box all the time.
He was in that one thing with the doctors,
And that rubbishy one about crime.

Leisure Time With The Sole Survivor

As the only man left after nuclear war,
I don’t really watch much TV any more.
Unwinding is hard, but I try to relax,
While evading the mutants who hunt me in packs.

Chip Shop Girl

A pretty girl just sold me chips
And brightened up my day.
Perhaps I should have told her.
Should I go back and say?
“You’ve made my day a better one
By being oh so pretty.
Just seeing you has made the world
Thirteen percent less shitty”.
She probably wouldn’t like it,
She’d be freaked out I think,
But maybe she’d be flattered
And we’d go out for a drink.
Perhaps she’d lean towards me
And she’d kiss me on the lips
And then she’d be my girlfriend
As romance would bloom from chips.

Thumbs

A thumb upon my right hand,
But not upon my left.
One hand is quite intact, you see,
The other’s thumb-bereft.

Four-Day Weekend

I’ve booked a four-day weekend,
It’s coming really soon.
I really really fancy
Time alone in a cocoon.
I’ll do a bit of gaming
While sat round in my smalls,
Occasionally pausing
To adjust and scratch my balls.
I’ll get a load of fizzy drinks,
And massive piles of snacks,
And not one thing will be achieved
Because I shall relax.

Court Order

I’m banned from being near, at your insistence,
Your insistence.
Though lots of girls look like you from a distance,
From a distance.
The last few months I’ve rarely dared
To brave the streets, lest you get scared,
And ring up nine nine nine for armed resistance,
Armed resistance.

Guts in Jars

I’ve got a load of guts in jars,
They’re what I’m all about.
The glass keeps all the guts in,
And keeps prying fingers out.
I really love my guts in jars,
And love my gut-jar shelf.
I’ll sometimes even talk to them,
When I’m all by myself.
I think about the people,
How they lived, and what they did,
And I’ll sometimes have a little cry
While fingering the lid.
When I get old and perish,
Please dissect my wrinkled arse,
And burn the skin and skeleton,
And store my guts in glass.