Some People Have It Worse Than Me

Well I wake up in the morning at 11:47 and I can’t

believe I have to face the horror of another fucking

day

And the magnificent magnitude of my morning erection

merely mocks me like the sun in its optimistic greeting

of the day

Managing to manifest a modicum of motivation I meander

to the kitchen make a mission out of mixing Nescafe

But the milk is going off and coffee by itself is

bitter and there’s ants all through the sugar and the

supermarket’s miles a-fuckin'-way

My life is pretty sad

But I know that I should be glad.

At least I’m not a starving Ethiope

Or a policeman in Bagdad

At 11:53 I instigate the day’s ablutions in the hope my

constitution can be altered by some action on the bowl

But the total non-existence of colonic animation seems

to me the perfect metaphor for the utter constipation

of my soul

By 11:59 I have decided that my life would be

immediately improved by a carefully written list of

short-term goals

But by 12.05 my list consists of 1-dot put some pants

on, 2-dot go to the shop, buy some prunes and Panadol

My life is pretty shit

But I know I shouldn’t whinge about it

I could be a Palestinian

Driving buses on the Gaza strip

Yeah how bad can it be?

Some people have it worse than me

I could be a child prostitute

Or Gary Glitter’s family

I have no right to cry

Some people have it worse than I

I could be a thalidomide kid

With something in my eye

At 12:30 I realise I’m feeling so dejected that I’ve

totally neglected the beginning of the Jerry Springer

show

So I settle on the sofa try to focus an iota of my

motor-neurones on the brilliant insights for which

Jerry is known

And although on any other day a show entitled “Midgets

Midget Midgets” would excite me like a virgin at her

year eleven ball

Today those little jelly-wresting fellas fail to free

me of my misery instead they simply serve to make me

feel three foot tall

But how bad can it be?

Some people have it worse than me

I could be a Jewish stand up comedian

In Nazi Germany

Or I could be a Dockers fan

Or an orphan in Pakistan

Or the architect of the World Trade Centre

Or a bobcat driver in Bam Iran

I could be making an investigation

Of a backpack in an underground station

Or I could be a peace-loving speech-writer

In George W’s administration

Yeah I know that I don’t have the right

To be unhappy with my life

I could be Paris Hilton’s mother

Or Shane Warne’s wife

And I know that I shouldn’t be bitchin'

I could be in a worse position

I could be a 3-nippled naturopath

In the days of the Spanish inquisition

I know I have no right to cry

Some people have it worse than I

I could have a serious nut allergy

And be shipwrecked on an island with a crate of

Snickers bars

A jar of Nutella and a fresh baked pecan pie

Some people have it worse than I