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The Good Ole Days
Let’s go back to the good ole days
when men were men
and women stayed at home
cooked the kids
cleaned the food
and gave birth to furniture.
In the good ole days
Christmases were whiter
summers were drier
and autumn fog buggered yer lungs.
The good ole days by Gad
a golden age
when the squire shagged yer daughters
rubbed yer face in the shit
at least once a week
ye could depend on it.
The good ole days by Jove
drenched in Victorian family values
while the Prince of Wales fucked whores by the score
and nobody north of the Watford gap knew a thing
Reminds me of when I was a nipper
and Phillipa Hucklesberry
(Or was it Hillipa Fuh…no definitely Phillipa)
showed me her erm, erm, forgotten what it was now
but it was jolly rude
oh yes, I remember - she showed me her Watford gap
egad - what a sight.
By the Lord Harry, I must dash, got to go
haven’t shot a peasant today don’tcha know
and they do rely on me
dependability and so forth, what, what, eh?
Chin-chin, ta-ta and all that.
(Read a first draft of this at university yesterday. We were having a few mince pies etc. and I dedicate this to the lady who said a quiet ‘ouch’ when I read the ‘gave birth to furniture’ line)
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In five hundred years time, most of us will be forgotten dust. But Hitler will still be remembered, God loves irony.
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The Logical Locust And God
