I thought I’d given up
Drinking and smoking
When I told Big Andy, he said
“You’ve got to be joking”
So I had six cans of Guinness
In between the frequent tokes
I realised my patter was better
Than my poorly written jokes
I was cracking myself up
As Andy testified
Normally when I tell jokes
People want me crucified
So I am going to change my act
Just get fucked instead
Then if I kill onstage
I won’t remember what I said
This will force me to be inventive
By squeezing the creative juices
Each gig will be an experience
As I run out of excuses
On second thoughts, nah
I had better plan material
Although it is harder work
It is probably more ethereal
Then if the gig goes well
I can get pished to celebrate
If it doesn’t, I can’t put it down
To the fickle winds of fate
So it’s back to the drawing board
Maybe I will get stoned to write
After all a lot of good comedians
Just talk a pile of mundane shite
So we inebriated ourselves all night
As we killed ourselves laughing
It wasn’t so funny in the morning
When I ended up barfing
Cheers!
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