You’re like a cheese-grater

On a bullet wound,

If I saw you again,

It’d be an eternity too soon

 

Like licking urine off a nettle.

After twenty pints of lager

You’re the curry that won’t settle.

 

You look like a turtle

Without its shell

Marriage to you must be a living hell.

 

 

You’re like a pair of socks

After the hundred-year war

So old, dirty and smelly

We all wonder what you’re for.

 

With the charm and social grace

Of a pubic louse

You couldn’t be worse

Even if you were scouse.

 

With the people skills

Of a rabid Rottweiler

You’re about as popular

As a Northern Rock mortgage advisor.

 

You’re sharp and abrasive

Just not much fun

You’re like sand-paper

When wiping my bum.

 

I could do something to save all the tears

If I killed you

I’d only do twenty-five years.

 

So when you hear this

You may just go berserk

But I want the whole world to know

You’re my Nazi boss at work!