I used to buy pizzas in packs of four
You couldn’t see my face for spots,
I caught a cold stepping out of doors
I stayed up til 3am every night,
watching the Hit Man and Her
Didn’t like the choice of hit man,
but I was quite taken with her
Better living through cookery
You won’t get far with Sociology
Don’t need a stable home, I need my greens
Mr Taggart I need more beans!
Filling up on bourbons, emptied the biscuit jar
And the hot cheese solidified inside
made my dreams so bizarre
Fell asleep with my stereo to Randy’s
Diary of Madman
Too tired to read Gogol,
talking dogs knew I was a sad man
Better living through cookery
It’s what you put on your crockery
Your bum will bleed when it’s stuffed with meat
You can’t scratch that itch as you
wriggle in your seat
I don’t want to change the colour of my skin
Drinking counterfeit orange juice and gin
Seems I’m surrounded by these human sugar bins
Cultivating their Johnny Vegas chins
They tease themselves with the pants and moans
of Lara Croft
But I can tell you from experience
they’ll be the ones
pulling themselves off
Better living through cookery
Turn your back on your diety
Gods won’t help you lose your fat
They starve you on their naughty mat
I don’t want to spend an hour on the bog
Low quality reading sat here waiting for a log
The unforgettable pleasure of clean break wipes
You will never have them when you’re
clogging up your pipes
THE YORKSHIRE RAP (from the ghost of G.R. Stein’s)
Better living through cookery
A low carb diet is a mockery
Eat and sleep right it’s all you need
Keep on the wheat germ, keep off the weed
And believe all the health scares you read
THE SERMON ENDS WITH SOME WORDS OF WISDOM
FROM MR WARBY
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