LYRICS

TOUCHING ROBOTS IN PARIS

Speeding round Sloane Square in a Jaguar Swilling down Bollinger and caviar The chauffeur starts to swear in Mandarin Slams on the brakes And I lunge forward and start vomiting Stalking the mansion of a diplomat In a pink poncho and a cream cravat The waiter offers me a vol au vent I say "Don't you know who I am? Now leave me be! I've got a fox to hunt" I’m touching robots in Paris I’m pinching puppets in Rome Manhandling mannequins in Monaco I’m snogging jugglers in Venice Caressing clowns in Berlin Waltzing round Walsall With a washed up harlequin The locals often kick me in Kneeling in Tussaud's with a Triple Sec Next to a waxwork of Toulouse Lautrec The tourists snap me on their Polaroids If I retain this pose for too long I’ll get haemorrhoids Stumbling round Swindon in a sweaty haze Dressed like a duchess from the olden days Just like a glossy top shelf magazine I should not be observed By anyone under eighteen Chin chin, old bean I'm goosing gaylords in Paris I'm licking Ladies in Leeds Fondling dandies till my finger bleeds I'm kissing Kings in the palace I'm tonguing Queens in the shed Swanning round Swansea With a contract on my head The locals often wish me dead It seems to me that there are no Decent songs on the radio So that's why I wrote this one Cos if you play this melody On radio then finally There will be something good on But that in turn means what I said About radio being dead Wouldn't really quite work And this song would be stripped of all Its underlying rationale And that would just make me look Like a berk (x4) I don't wanna look like a flipping berk I wish I'd never brought it up And anyway this song is cursed So you will all die if you put it on

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