Contrived laughter and seasonal cheer,

Turns all nasty with a belly full of bear,

Teenage hormones stupid and loud,

Shut the fuck up make your parents proud.

 

Little boy’s body in a holiday sea,

Near the hotel where we had our tea,

Fake profundity, trying to be funny,

I gave you my time now give us your money.

 

Princess Di reactions to a sad event,

Crocodile tears not really meant,

Rugger bugger, pubby pubby chummey noise,

Grown men acting like twelve year old boys.

 

Sentimental statements posted to all,

Emotional vomit the means sod all

Walking along staring into phones,

Millionaire Carol selling poor people loans,

 

I pull up the quilt, stay in bed,

These are the things that fuck my head

 

Hot tub in the garden do me a favour,

Getting all wrinkly with the sexed up neighbour,

Soaking your tackle in the open air,

Sharing your bath water with Barry and Claire,

 

She’s a teacher, he’s a plumber,

They stewed in the garden all last summer,

We sang along to Barry’s strumming

As Clare got her hands on her neighbour’s plumbing.

 

If your bath’s in the garden and you don’t care,

Then why don’t you put the bog out there,

Put four in a circle and, dependent on the weather,

You can talk shit and shit shit all together.

 

I pull up the quilt, stay in bed,

These are the things that fuck my head

 

 

Meals for two on your own,

The bloke who laid the tarmac at the front of your home,

Its falling apart and that’s no wonder,

A lifetime guarantee and a mobile number.

 

Going home to tell you wife,

Remember that job they said was for life,

Well they’ve told me now they don’t need me,

So we can hold hands on the sofa watch daytime TV.

Emmerdale, Eastenders, Coronation Street,

Repeats of repeats of repeats of repeats

 

The Cilit Bang man, ambulance chasers,

Insurance policies to pay funeral arrangers,

Getting a pen just for enquiring,

Suing for a fortune for the faulty wiring

That sent you flying and hitting the door,

Or for slipping on some batter on the chip shop floor.

 

I pull up the quilt, stay in bed,

These are the things that fuck my head

 

Self help books blaming you,

For all the shit you’re going through,

Just snap out of it, the ship may be sinking,

But you can save yourself through positive thinking,

Then all my optimism lands with a bump

At the thought of President Donald Trump.

 

Bankers that weren’t shown the door,

No room for them in prison, they’re full of the poor

Who weren’t born rich and live down south,

And they never put their willy in a piggy’s mouth.

 

Never got to join those exclusive clubs

Where you share your dirty habits with a High Court Judge,

Eton, Oxford, a privileged start

On a GCSE in the history of art

 

 

Queuing for a fatty latty skinny to go,

Holland’s hootenanny show,

When the clock strikes twelve try to remember,

It’s just him and his mates getting pissed in September,

Boring politicians, computer nerds,

People who call themselves entrepreneurs,

Bragging they’ll be worth a million one day,

Selling all that shit they put on Ebay

 

I pull up the quilt, stay in bed,

These are the things that fuck my head