June 10: RIP Rik Mayall ...

I used to watch the Young Ones, such a bloody funny show

And we marveled at the depths Rik’s trashy humour it could go

With his badly soiled white y-fronts, and his unwashed pimply face

As he flexed before the mirror, his scrawny body a disgrace

Unkempt hair and filthy clothes, once white bedsheets brown and green

Not one washed up pot or pan, and such filth you’d never seen

No cutlery, no crockery, they all had trashed the lot

The furniture it was splintered, so they lived on what they’d got

Also there was Vivian, who you wouldn't like to meet

Silver studs nailed to his head, Romper Stomper’s on his feet

And their house was full of vermin, but they didn’t care a bit

And Vivian was joyous so as long as Rik was there to hit

Not a stick of furniture survived Vivian’s daily violent rage

I laughed so much at what he did, my brain could not engage

He’d bash and crash and beat up Rick, who was just a little gay

But payback was worth waiting for, each and every day

Though Rik he was a ladies man, clad in flannels from New Orleans

But all his best liaisons they took place within his dreams

In that zone he was successful and the girls to him would flock

But Vivian put an end to that, when he woke him with a rock

And Neil the hippy pacifist, who lived on brussel sprouts
I really don’t know how he survived, living with those louts

Once Neil was a copper, and he knocked on his own front door

“Open up it's the pigs", he cried, which brought a fridge from the third floor

We laughed so hard it hurt us as we watched them in their mess

Unadulterated violence, back then we couldn’t have cared less

Now Rik he’s gone to heaven, but as only Vivian could say

“The selfish bloody bloody bastard, I should have killed him yesterday”