Vic Reeves Oh! Mr Hairdresser
Oh, Mr Hairdresser,
do me a hair sculpture with your magic tweezers,
ease it, tease it and then grease it,
put a flange on the front, and then leave.
Oh, Mr Cat Burglar,
theive me some muesli from Van Morrisson,
lay it random on the veranda,
so the parsley club of Uganda can conceive.
Oh, Mr Magnetic Bullrush,
wave your special gloves in an arc,
prepare a lovely crisp salad,
and have sex with a kestrel above a caravan
Vic: Go on then Bob, play your mandolin.
Bob: Aw, thanks!
Oh, Mr Bogus Pendant Salesman,
why do I buy from you pendants made of ice,
make me one in the shape of Africa,
so I know what it looks like when I go there.
Oh, Mr Serial Killer,
kill my cereals with your wipe-out glove,
stop them coming for me at midnight.
with their axes made of bran and their knives of dust.
Oh, Mr Keyboard Wizard,
go twiddly twiddly dee on your Korg,
cover your face with your cape,
so that all the dull lovers can’t see you smiling at
them.