The Fifth Musketeer

The people speak of Athos, the eldest Musketeer,
A man whose reputation none shall ever dare to smear.
And people speak of Aramis, a soldier yet a bounder,
Whose skill upon the battlefield would make a villain flounder.
And people speak of Porthos, a hero pure of heart,
Seeking of attention yet with knowledge to impart.
Which brings us to d’Artagnan, the hero of the age,
Whose exploits were immortalised on Dumas’ printed page.
And yet there was another man, who history denies,
Ignored by Alexandre in his manuscript of lies,
And left behind in time although a hero just the same:
He came up with the lava lamp, and Mathmos was his name.

Modesty

Sometimes I do kick-ass things but people aren’t impressed,
When I shout into their faces how I rule and I’m the best,
How I’m better than they’ll ever be, and handsome, strong and cool,
How my life is great and theirs is shit and honestly, I rule.
I don’t know what it is with them, you’d think that they’d be thrilled,
Encountering a man like me, who’s sexy, buff and skilled,
So I find it unbelievable when people don’t seem fussed,
But I’m awesome and I win at life, so really I’m nonplussed.

She Is An Astronaut And I Like Beans

She talks of the cosmos, and where it began,
And says that she’s walked on the sun.
I tell her that I am a bean-loving man,
And I ate a load earlier for fun.
She tells me about her last trip up to space,
And the magical creatures she met there.
I push out my farts as we walk to her place,
So there’ll be nothing left when we get there.

If These Walls Could Talk

“Take this bloody Blu-Tac off!
You’re messing up my paint!
And not so many picture hooks –
Please, show some damn restraint!
And fill my bloody crack up, mate,
It’s always bloody hurting.
And don’t wedge cupboards in too far,
You’re damaging my skirting.”

British Men Aren’t Handsome

Ask a global panel,
And many will concur
That British men aren’t handsome,
And never really were.
We’re blotchy when it’s chilly
And scarlet in the heat,
And most of us are thuggish
Or we’re poncy and effete.

Socialite

My job is being trendy,
A shaker and a mover.
I’ve got a burly minder.
I’ve never touched a hoover.

Money Trouble

I’ve got in a bit of a monetary mess,
By living a lifestyle exceeding my means.
I owe quite a lot, and have quite a lot less,
So now I am skint and am living off beans.
It’ll take me an age to save up and reach nought.
I’ve far less than nothing, I’m well in the red,
A truly upsetting and worrying thought -
I can’t help but wish I’d been frugal instead.
A man with no money has more cash than me
(At least in the eyes of the villainous foes
That work in the hole that is Lloyds TSB,
The source of my current pecuniary woes).
I’ve tried spending less, but I find it too hard –
It’s really too easy to spend loads of wonga
When they let you buy booze with a small plastic card,
And you want to keep drinking that little bit longer.
So willpower’s out, and with no options left,
I’m finding I have to devise a new plan.
I may have to turn to the fun crime of theft,
By robbing a shop, or I’ll mug someone’s gran.

Waking Up In Darkness

I’m waking up in darkness,
As winter starts to come.
It’s dark and wet and cold outside,
Like in a penguin’s bum.

A Bad But Hygienic Father Reminisces

Not a day shall go by when I don’t smile and think
Of when I swapped my girl for a new kitchen sink.
It really is gorgeous when filled up with water
And really, I wasn’t too keen on my daughter.
Try as I might, I will never forget
When I traded my son for a moist towelette.
As decisions have been, it was really quite easy.
The boy was a shit, and my chicken was greasy.