Well I wake up in the morning at 11:47And I can't believe I have to face the horror of another fucking dayAnd the magnificent magnitude of my morning erectionMerely mocks me like the sun in its optimistic greeting of the dayManaging to manifest a modicum of motivationI meander to the kitchen make a mission out of mixing NescafeBut the milk is going off and coffee by itself is bitterAnd there's ants all through the sugar and the supermarket's miles a-fucking-wayMy life is pretty sadBut I know that I should be gladI could be a starving EthiopeOr a policeman in BaghdadPoliceman in BaghdadAt 11:53 I instigate the day's ablutionsIn the hope my constitution can be altered by some action on the bowlBut the total non-existence of colonic animationSeems to me the perfect metaphor for the utter constipation of my soulBy 11:59 I have decided that my life would be immediately improvedBy a carefully written list of short-term goalsBut by 12.05 my list consists of one-dot put some pants onTwo-dot go to the shop, buy some prunes and PanadolMy life is pretty shitBut I know I shouldn't whinge about itI could be a PalestinianDriving buses on the Gaza stripYeah how bad can it be?Some people have it worse than meI could be a child prostituteOr Gary Glitter's familyI have no right to crySome people have it worse than II could be a thalidomide kidWith something in my eyeSomething in my eyeAt 12:30 I realise I'm feeling so dejectedThat I've totally neglected the beginning of the Jerry Springer showSo I settle on the sofa try to focus an iota of my motor-neuronsOn the brilliant insights for which Jerry is knownAnd although on any other day a show entitled "Midgets, Midgets, Midgets"Would excite me like a virgin at her year eleven ballToday those little jelly-wresting fellas fail to free me of my miseryInstead they simply serve to make me feel three foot tallBut how bad can it be?Some people have it worse than meI could be a junior life saferOn a Banda Aceh beachOr I could be a Collingwood fanOr an orphan in PakistanOr the architect of the World Trade CentreOr a bobcat driver in Bam IranI could be making an investigationOf a backpack in an underground stationI could be a peace-loving speech-writerIn George W's administrationYeah, I know that I don't have the rightTo be unhappy with my lifeI could be Pol Pot's motherOr Shane Warne's wifeYeah, I know that I shouldn't be bitchin'I could be in a worse positionI could be a 3-nippled naturopathIn the days of the SpanishOf the Spanish inquisitionI know I have no right, no right to crySome people have it much, much worse than II could have a serious nut allergyAnd be shipwrecked on an island with a crate of Snickers bars, A jar of Nutella and a fresh baked pecan pieSome people have it worse than I!