THE WORLD'S WORST CHAT UP LINEYou are the sunshine in my buttered toast,
and it would be a travesty to both of us
if I didn’t make the most of this moment to convey
that there’s something truly special about the sparkle in your eyes,
like laughter in a teardrop;
and I bet you get bothered all the time by similar such baloney,
but I want to climb inside your eyeballs,
‘cause they’re so big and lovely,
so leap in the saddle and we’ll go to a place
where life is kicking the arse out of boredom.
We’ll do a crazy tango on the bouncy castle of love
and throw ourselves at the future
with no sense of decorum,
‘cause I want someone who makes me zing
like a mouthful of Sherbert Dip,
or a cup of Windolene.
If music be the food of love,
then let’s play on and fill our faces,
‘cause only you can occupy this empty space
eating at me from within and slowly gnawing at my spleen.
You see it doesn’t matter to me what paper you read,
whether you have any brothers or sisters;
I don’t really care what you weigh or what you wear,
whether you use Mr Sheen or Dental Floss.
It really doesn’t mater what you do for a living,
and in case you were wondering, I couldn’t give a toss
about your politics, choice of friends or washing powder.
I don’t care if you come with baggage,
three kids and a homicidal ex lover,
‘cause these things don’t matter when two souls collide,
So pull me to your heart and caress my cerebellum.
Let’s grow old and mad together,
and we’ll wrap the world in happy paper.
Let me drive you to a deviant lifestyle,
because it really doesn’t matter
that when I’ve had two Bacardi Breezers
I break out in a sweat and talk about my mother,
because things like this can be resolved by talking;
and it really doesn’t matter that I’ve got a conviction for stalking,
because here I am, offering myself as your man.
I’m very good at hygiene and I put the toilet seat down,
so let’s make both our dreams come true
and we’ll go for a swim in the lake that is you.
By Rob Gee