Thursday 15 May 2014

I wanna be yours....

It's not actually her birthday until the end of next week, but because the celebrations are starting this weekend, and because I probably won't have a chance to post tomorrow, I thought I'd put this up now.

To my beautiful wife.

I Wanna Be Yours, by John Cooper Clarke

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner
breathing in your dust
I wanna be your Ford Cortina
I will never rust
If you like your coffee hot
let me be your coffee pot
You call the shots
I wanna be yours

I wanna be your raincoat
for those frequent rainy days
I wanna be your dreamboat
when you want to sail away
Let me be your teddy bear
take me with you anywhere
I don’t care
I wanna be yours

I wanna be your electric meter
I will not run out
I wanna be the electric heater
you’ll get cold without
I wanna be your setting lotion
hold your hair in deep devotion
Deep as the deep Atlantic ocean
that’s how deep is my devotion

Happy birthday!

* please note that no actual vacuuming is guaranteed as a result of this. Indeed, on previous track record, this seems very unlikely indeed.... It's a metaphor, innit.

1 comment:

  1. I also like this one, but it's probably a little bit less appropriate:

    TWAT by John Cooper Clarke.

    Like a Night Club in the morning, you’re the bitter end.
    Like a recently disinfected shit-house, you’re clean round the bend.
    You give me the horrors
    too bad to be true
    All of my tomorrow’s
    are lousy coz of you.
    You put the Shat in Shatter
    Put the Pain in Spain
    Your germs are splattered about
    Your face is just a stain

    You’re certainly no raver, commonly known as a drag.
    Do us all a favour, here... wear this polythene bag.

    You’re like a dose of scabies,
    I’ve got you under my skin.
    You make life a fairy tale... Grimm!

    People mention murder, the moment you arrive.
    I’d consider killing you if I thought you were alive.
    You’ve got this slippery quality,
    it makes me think of phlegm,
    and a dual personality
    I hate both of them.

    Your bad breath, vamps disease, destruction, and decay.
    Please, please, please, please, take yourself away.
    Like a death a birthday party,
    you ruin all the fun.
    Like a sucked and spat our smartie,
    you’re no use to anyone.
    Like the shadow of the guillotine
    on a dead consumptive’s face.
    Speaking as an outsider,
    what do you think of the human race

    You went to a progressive psychiatrist.
    He recommended suicide...
    before scratching your bad name off his list,
    and pointing the way outside.

    You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart.
    You’re heading for a breakdown,
    better pull yourself apart.

    Your dirty name gets passed about when something goes amiss.
    Your attitudes are platitudes,
    just make me wanna piss.

    What kind of creature bore you
    Was is some kind of bat
    They can’t find a good word for you,
    but I can...