Cheering up Spewy Cameron

Lat week, in what can only have been a bout of insanity, I drove my tatty little car to Wales and back. The car made it okay. I was impressed, I really thought I’d have to buy a new one while in Wales and had even taken along all the documentation just in case.

The trip there was good, there was a break in the middle. The trip back was awful. At one point it was taking an hour to get 10 miles further on the M6, because it was Friday and everyone seemed to be heading to Blackpool for a dirty weekend. After the Blackpool junction, matters improved but then roadworks around Glasgow meant I missed the turnoff to Stirling and had to backtrack.

Finally heading for Stirling, there was a diversion (more roadworks) along roads that led through the pitchest blackest part of Scotland towards Perth. A trip that should have taken 12 hours ended up taking 16 and I had to work today. Not very hard, because I was knackered.

One of the shop staff, Cameron, is ill. He has imminent vomiting disease and I was sympathetic and helpful, as you would imagine. I advised him not to think about cold greasy tripe and raw eggs, offered to take his mind off it by describing some of the things I’d found in the toilets in the past (he declined, oddly enough) and distracted him from his potential emetic adventures by telling him about the blue stuff in blue cheeses.

None of it seemed to help so I thought I’d write him a cheery song because I actually quite like the scrawny wide-mouthed gobshite. He has curmudgeon potential.

Anyhow, set to the tune of Kasabian’s ‘Underdog’, here’s a song to distract him from his stomach’s determination to push that ‘return to sender’ button.

I call it  ‘Spewmaster

Poke me if you dare
Throw my guts up everywhere
Keeping food down is such a strain
I’m the Spewmaster
Left my lunch on the staffroom floor
When it comes back it’s not the same
When it comes back it’s not the same…

Lunch in technicolour sprayed on the floor
Well I’ve been retching up this mucus ’til there’s nothing at all
I got a dodgy curry and I ate it all
Left a taste inside my mouth like sweaty badger’s balls

Feels like I threw up a kidney
Or maybe that was my spleen
Pretty sure that was a kidney
Oh here comes breakfast again…

Poke me if you dare
Throw my guts up everywhere
Keeping food down is such a strain
I’m the Spewmaster
Left my lunch on the staffroom floor
When it comes back it’s not the same
When it comes back it’s not the same…

It don’t matter, I won’t spew where you say
You got a bucket, plastic sheeting, I won’t spew that way
I just aim for the people, I can splatter them all
And the rest is in the shadows so you’ll slip and you’ll fall

Still not sure if that’s a kidney
Looks pretty mangled and drab
Curry gods, won’t you forgive me?
Think it’s a pitta kebab…

Poke me if you dare
Throw my guts up everywhere
Keeping food down is such a strain
I’m the Spewmaster
Left my lunch on the staffroom floor
When it comes back it’s not the same
When it comes back it’s not the same…

Tell me if you’re down
Throw your breakfast to the ground
Try to eat things that won’t cause pain

Curry set your arse on fire
Join the queue for another one
Use an ice cube to quench the flames
When it comes back it’s not the same…

 

 

Well if that doesn’t cheer him up and take his mind off the twisting of his duodenum into a pretzel shape by the virus currently chewing its way through every organ in his body, I don’t know what will.

Go on, Cam. One last laugh before the grave. You’ll get a cheap funeral because they only have to dig a half-width hole. Maybe they’ll cremate you – they could coat you in wax and use you as a candle for that one. Look on the bright side, you might have days left to live yet.

These young people. They worry about every little thing, don’t they?

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