The Wanker

The wanker’s always with us, everywhere we choose to go
Even if we travel quickly, even if we travel slow
When you’re sitting nice and quiet having just a sip of beer
You can bet your bloomin’ socks that some big wanker will appear

As they get out of the car and they loudly slam the doors
You wonder why you take the time to gently close up yours
Then out comes all the camping gear, they take up all the room
The clouds on your horizon gather swiftly in the gloom

You were careful when you got here and you had a look around
For a campsite that was far away from others on the ground
But now you find the Wanker’s gone and set up next to you
Though there isn’t really room enough, there’s nothing you can do

There’s campsites by the dozen to the left and to the right
As empty as the Wanker’s head, but he can’t see the light
You get a sinking feeling that you’ve done this all before
For you know the world is choc-a-block with wankers by the score

He’ll play his music loudly and he’ll shout and make a fuss
And he’ll winge about his missus and he’ll blather on and cuss
Then he’ll get his great big dog out which will piddle on your car
And his kids will bounce a ball until you don’t know where you are

The wanker’s voice is louder than the screaming of a jet
It comes right through your caravan, a sound you can’t forget
He doesn’t have a single thought of how it affects you
As long as he can get away with what he wants to do

Then his mates will all come calling and they’ll stay up all night long
And they’ll all get drunk and stupid, yelling out and singing songs
When you wake up in the morning and the campsite is a mess
You shake your head to clear it, for you’re somewhat in distress

You will find he’s gone out fishing trying hard to rape the sea
For he always takes the limit, plus another two or three
Then finally when you go out to catch a fish or two
The jackass will come over and fish right on top of you

So you give up on your fishing and you come back in to shore
But the wanker’s right behind you trailing tinnys by the score
You came away to get some peace and quiet on your own
But all you do is shake your head and stifle up a groan

Another night of bingeing by the Wanker’s drunken mates
Leaves you wishing you could send him to Saint Peter’s pearly gates
You suffer on in silence and you bend your knee to pray
‘Oh Lord if you won’t take me, make the Wanker go away!’

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Comments

  • Eric Alagan  On January 27, 2012 at 1:28 am

    “wanker”….have not heard that for a long time. Yes, we have our share of boors here too. Loved this 🙂

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