Gossip, like neighbours over a fence,
Rumour, even when it's against common sense,
Scandal, about a perfect media couple,
You don't care, your pay will be doubled.
When a royal marriage breaks up, you don't care,
Drunk rock stars on the pavement, you're first there,
You're on some warped moral crusade,
I wonder, to which God have you prayed?
Paparazzi everywhere, shooting with a long lens,
Catch a star in underwear, sleeping with an MP's friend,
Submit those nasty paragraphs, with carefully chosen words,
The man in the street laughs, but the libel really hurts.
You want them to cheat, you want them to sin,
You want them to smile, dressed in designer things,
You'll get the overpaid lawyers fuming,
You want the stars to be super-human.
A little gossip never hurt.. oh yeah?
They won't sue me.. oh yeah?
He's seeing someone else.. oh yeah?
People want to read about it.. oh yeah?
(original 1997, re-written in 2000)
Take 1 presenter, either blonde or ageing comedian
Add 49 coloured balls,
3 different draw machines,
5 ways of winning,
7 years of a contract for Camelot,
Thousands of job losses in the pools companies
And 1/4 of the betting companies' profits.
Stir in allegations of bribes,
And massive profits,
Mix well with political fighting
And some controversy.
Grate off the silver covering
On a scratchcard,
Remove 70 million pounds from people's pockets -
Every week.
You should now be able to take off
Billions of pounds of government debt,
And pretend that a quarter of the money is
Really doing some good.
Simmer gently,
Or boil in a good quantity
Of genuine hype.
This is a difficult recipe after all,
It's not meant for beginners,
After all, you only have a 1 in 13 million chance
Of being the jackpot winner.
(May 1996)
My accountant
Must have trained as a chef
He cooked the books
Until there was nothing left
Skimmed off the cream
Trimmed off the fat
Now I'm left begging
With an up-turned hat
(November 1998)