with a face like a crab's bus ticket
and skin like a llama's door mat
he was always gonna struggle
nature had seen to that

he dreamt of those old-fashioned movies
where bogart gets the dame
but a lorry load of lorre
is still the score of pain

and he sings i may be ugly
but i've got the bottle-opener
he may be fat but he's got the corkscrew
and in the party party politics of this ugly fame
there is no orderly queue

with a chin like a tramp's juke-box
and eyes like a rhino's ash-tray
it was always going to be pantomime
that made him sing and dance anyway

when you feel like london
and you look like hull
you think travolta pulled newton - john
who did john hurt pull?

and they compliment the compliment
and it's driving you insane
it's like talking to a helicopter
when you know that you're a plane

breath like a mountain goat's satchel
nose like a pool of sick
but you always leave your flies ahoy
'cause the world wants to suck your dick
let it suck!

and he sings i may be ugly
but i've got the bottle-opener
he may be fat but he's got the corkscrew
and in the party party politics of this ugly fame
there is no orderly queue