he's one sandwich short of a picnic

he's two cards shy of a deck
he’s lost in the woods
he’ll never come good

he’s burnt out, a gibbering wreck

he's mostly away with the fairies

his ship is on the rocks
his nerves are shot
the man is not

the sharpest tool in the box

they say that he's not the full shilling

and he's got no gas in the tank
he's no flipping use
he's got a screw loose

he's thick as two short planks

I reckon he's having a meltdown

he's constantly losing his rag

he's turned off the light
unable to fight

his way out of a paper bag

he's one tinny short of a six-pack

two citizens shy of a jury
he's an “also ran”
wouldn't trust him to plan

a piss-up in a brewery

he can’t tell his arse from his elbow
can't find that same part with both hands

his reason’s gone missing
his mind has gone fishing
he’s living in Cloud Cuckoo Land

he needs to be put in the nuthouse
he’s barking, he’s hare-brained, he’s challenged

a dingbat, a loon
he hooooooooowls at the moon
a fruitcake, unhinged and unbalanced

he’s ga-ga, he's toys in the attic

there’s cotton-wool under the dome

he’s Bungalow Bill
he’s The Fool on the Hill
you knock but there’s nobody home 

he’s a jackass, a dope, he’s a head-case

he's bananas, he’s gone round the bend

he's out for lunch
and it's my hunch

he talks to invisible friends

his brain cell is getting lonely

he's cracked, he's not all there

he’s off his trolley
he’s building a folly

he didn't pack a spare

he's wacko, he's bats in the belfry

a numpty, a nutter, a dork
he's full of rot
he's lost the plot

he can't tell butter from Stork

he's up shit creek with no paddle

he's leading us down a blind alley

he's dazed and confused
his wiring has fused

he’s bonkers, he's gone doolally

it's rumoured he's losing his marbles

so humour him, he’s not too bright

the reason the town
must keep talking him down

is fear
that

he’s probably...