Bending down without something creaking.
Finishing a piss without a bit leaking.

Getting into a chair without a sigh or a groan.
Eyebrows that don’t have a mind of their own.

Being able to see over my belly.
Not falling asleep in front of the telly.

Remembering faces and the names that go with em.
Thinking for one moment that I ever had rhythm.

Thinking I’m a dead set hit with the lasses.
Where the ruddy bloody hell are my glasses?

A sesh on the ale and feeling OK
Not hangovers that last for more than a day.

Not worrying about the state of my heart.
Being able to trust a fart.

A full luscious mane without the grey hairs.
Remembering why I went upstairs. 

Listen to the radio without every song sucking.
Ears that don’t need continual plucking.

Being a thrusting jet-setting go-getter…
That sounds a bit much. Cup of tea? Ahh, that’s better.

In the opinion polls you are slumping.
Of you, the electorate want rid.
No more words need be said,
Go jump into bed;
Have a kid, have a kid, have a kid.

Your celebrity marriage is crumbling.
The papers don’t fete you erelong as they did.
Put those rumours to ground
Of your shagging around;
Have a kid, have a kid, have a kid

You’ve done this quite a few times now.
On procreation you can’t keep a lid.
Not sure the amount,
Wikipedia lost count.
Fuck it, have a kid, have a kid

Been caught doing something you shouldn’t?
Fans deserting you, god forbid?
You know just what to do
When you’re in a snafu;
Have a kid, have a kid, have a kid.

You said something borderline racist.
What’s been done though can be undid.
If you’re making the news
For unpalatable views
Have a kid, have a kid, have a kid.

Have a kid, have a bairn, have a babby,
Have a wean, sprog, Bambino, bin lid.
When you feel your reputation
Is in need of restoration
Have a kid. Have a kid. Have a kid.

You don’t need to appreciate the Beatles.
You don’t have to like Talking Heads.
If you fancy a go
At a radio show
Be famous already instead.

No previous experience necessary,
Your engineer will do all the work.
If you want to be on
Radios 3, 2 or 1
Be famous for something else first.

You don’t need an interest in the medium.
If about music you’re a big ignoramus
We don’t really care
We’ll stick you on air
So long as your dad is quite famous.

Monday and Tuesday hath twenty-four hours.
Every Wednesday hath four-and-twenty.

Thursdays and Fridays hath but twenty-four.
Saturday does also – no less, no more.

Sunday being the Sabbath day
Hath three times eight for rest and play.

Here’s a lesson
About Oganesson.
In memoriam,
It’s Livermorium.

It takes years and years
For civil engineers
To train and design traffic flows.

But you flashing your lights,
Yes it’s you with the right
To decide who must stop and who goes.

What’s that on your head, Fred?
Have you been for the weave, Steve?
Pull on a wig, Stig,
Just get yourself free.

Was it out of a can, Dan?
Drawn on with a pen, Glen?
Buy a new hat, Pat,
And get yourself free.

I’d like to go on the Orient Express,
To travel with such style and grace.
But whenever I look to see if I can book, 
It’s full of folk who won big on The Chase.

It all looks so terribly fancy,
Silver service for breakfast and dinner.
I want to see Istanbul, but the thing’s always full
Of people who outran Paul Sinha.

Perhaps I need lower ambitions –
Find somewhere less exotic to be.
Go on Pointless instead and win just enough bread
For a weekend in Southend-on-Sea.

But I would still like to go on it,
Where Poirot solved his most famous case.
But I won’t reach this goal with a Mastermind bowl
So I’ll have to win big on The Chase.