Tuesday, 10 June 2014

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”

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