Middle Aged Punchbag

You know what's heaven to me
Is a nice cup of tea
Not too much milk
And a big, comfy chair
And some loose underwear
Perhaps in silk
I think of grilling some kippers
So I put on my slippers
In the kitchen I bemoan the lack of storage
Which reminds me now I need a bigger mortgage
'Cause now I'm semi-detached from you

I am a middle aged punchbag
Lonely since your departure
And as I griddle my brunch I listen to The Archers
For comfort

I eat lentils and rice
It's not very nice
But it helps me poo
I recycle my glass
It's a pain in the ass
And so are you
Like a chair from IKEA
You are merely veneer
And although I have a topped-up mini icer
Now it seems you find another icer nicer
I'm losing interest in you

You are a middle aged slagbag
Skulking 'round all bar one
You coyly twiddle your handbag, hoping to have some fun
With bankers
Wankers

That's not where this story ends
I'm persuaded by friends
To try a date
They tell me not to despair
I've still got all my own hair
It's not too late
Though the restaurant is rowdy
She looks pleasantly dowdy
Over lunch she tells me she belongs to Mensa
And I noticed that she shops at Marks & Spencer
Well that's good enough for me

I am a middle aged punchbag
I live in queue
I have a middle aged hunch that
You're a punchbag too
You say you're really a fat hat
That's cool with me
At home, I show you my porn mag
Anal Thumper 3
Or 4
Or more