(no subject)

Well, it's the last day of the financial year, and that means after another year of incompetence and venality, her Majesty's government take the better part of half everything I've earned in order to pay for the priviledge.

I could be bitter, but am I? Why, no! You see, reading sister's copy of Girl! Magazine (or whatever it's called) last night I note from the fashion news that the incredibly ugly midriff-exposing clothes that have been female summer fashion for the last few years are now completely old hat, and low-cut tops are going to be back in for this year so it's going to be cleavages a-go-go on the streets when the sun comes out.
Leaving my interesting experiences clubbing last week aside*, this delights me. In fact, I'm so happy, I think I can feel a song coming on!

(To the Tune of Food, Glorious Food from Lionel Bart's Oliver!)


The scene: a miserable garret office, in which David sits hunched over business figures. His brow is creased with worry, and his once-youthful eyes are dimmed with care. As the music begins, he trudges across the room to an enourmous bin marked "Taxes" into which he tips the meagre contents of his wallet. With that, he begins to sing...

Is it worth the working for?
If I live 'til eighty four
All I ever get is tax bills!
Ev'ry day I say a prayer --
Will Gordon strip the cupboard bare?
Still I get the same old tax bills!
There is not a groat, not a penny I can find,
Can I beg, can I borrow, or cadge,
But there's nothing to stop me from getting a thrill
When I just close my eyes and imag...ine

Boobs! Glorious boobs!
Hot women are mustard!
Now I’m in the mood --
I’m getting all flustered!
Filthy pillows and low-cut tops
What next is the question?
Standing out like organ stops
I’ve an…

Boobs, glorious boobs!
I’m anxious to try ‘em.
Just shout out “wahey!” --
And from brassieres pry ‘em

Just picture a great big rack --
Pert, medium or huge
Oh, boobs,
Wonderful boobs,
Marvellous boobs,
Glorious boobs.

(David looks out of the window from where it is possible to see the town Beadle, Mr. Brown, spending like there is no tomorrow. And the way he's going, there probably won't be.)

Boobs, glorious boobs!
Don't care what they looks like --
Small! Oversized! Crude!
Don't care what the cup’s like.
Just thinking of ladybumps --
My senses go reeling
One moment of knowing that
D-Cup feeling!

Boobs, glorious boobs!
They’re why we invented computers!
I waste six hours a day
Surfing pictures of hooters!
What is it I Google for?
What fills my search history?
Hours of looking for, that
Female mystery!

Boobs, glorious boobs!
What wouldn't I give for
That extra bit more --
That's all that I live for
Why should I be fated to
Do nothing but brood
On boobs,
Magical boobs,
Wonderful boobs,
Marvellous boobs,
Fabulous boobs,
Beautiful boobs,
Glorious boobs!

I think I need to get out more.

^{*You really don't want to know.}