Little Johnny was told he was special.
Everyone knew he was a runt of a man.
He had worked on his vocal cords and could really rasp it out when he had to.
Little Johnny loved little Flo.
And John Gartland waited in the wings for the scraps.
Because Gartland was a sea gull.
Little Johnny wanted to cut my head off because he thought I was fucking Little Flo, who was now in her thirties and with massive tits.
Also, Little Johnny didn't throw out rubbish.
The Hague was there for him.
'Call us,' they said, 'if you feel the slightest bit of racism against you.'
'I'm going to call the Hague.'
He says the place we live in is a pig stye.
And John Gartland is worse than a thousand niggers.
And that's really saying something.
