by Pam Ayres You know this world is complicated, imperfect and oppressed And it's not hard to feel timid, apprehensive and depressed. It seems that all around us tides of questions ebb and flow And people want solutions but they don’t know where to go. Opinions abound but who is wrong and who is right. People need a prophet, a diffuser of the light. Someone they can turn to as the crises rage and swirl. Someone with the remedy, the wisdom, and the pearl. Well, they should have asked my ‘usband,
He’d have told’em then and there. His thoughts on immigration, teenage mothers, Tony Blair, The future of the monarchy, house prices in the south The wait for hip replacements, BSE and foot and mouth. Yes, they should have asked my husband
He can sort out any mess He can rejuvenate the railways he can cure the NHS So any little niggle, anything you want to know Just run it past my husband, wind him up and let him go. Congestion on the motorways, free holidays for thugs The damage to the ozone layer, refugees and drugs. These may defeat the brain of any politician bloke But present it to my husband and he’ll solve it at a stroke. He'll clarify the situation; he will make it crystal clear You'll feel the glazing of your eyeballs, and the bending of your ear. Corruption at the top, he’s an authority on that And the Mafia, Gadafia and Yasser Arafat. Upon these areas he brings his intellect to shine In a great compelling voice that’s twice as loud as yours or mine. I often wonder what it must be like to be so strong, Infallible, articulate, self-confident... and wrong. When it comes to tolerance – he hasn’t got a lot Joyriders should be guillotined and muggers should be shot. The sound of his own voice becomes like music to his ears And he hasn’t got an inkling that he’s boring us to tears. My friends don’t call so often, they have busy lives I know But its not everyday you want to hear a windbag suck and blow. Encyclopaedias, on them we never have to call Why clutter up the bookshelf when my husband knows it all!
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