It fucking makes me sick.
And don't make me start on the bloody nonces....should be tied up and raped by 30 stones, siberian-horde mountain gorilla's with 2 gallon cocks.
I tell ya, ya don't get yer moneys-worth here...god save the queen 'n that. Bah! Bollocks to that idea, bring on the bloody round-heads for all i care.
Bugger me, there ain't a place I can go without some wigga hastleing me for a mug of fucking kenco, who do they think they are, eh? The countess of fucking Bognor? Bleeding chavs.
Don't forget it, bitches.
First I was afraid, I was petrified
Just thinking how my crops would fare, without my pesticide
I spent so many days, trying to beat insects from my lawn
But I was strong, and thought I'd write this song
But now you're back, from your hiding place
I didn't realise until, I swat that cockroach from my face
I hit that fucking thing so hard, and had it fried up for my tea
I ran around my crops a-yelling, with my voice a-full with glee
At your service.
