Lyrics:

Darts in soap operas, oh, so wrong, oh so wrong
No one's scoring and there's too much chat between each throw
Worse than this though is when cheers are raised for the bull
Granted, bull's a double and an out, but I know that they don't
Know, therefore
I propose
No Soap Darts

Is your child hyperactive, or is he perhaps a twat?
Sometimes I like to watch Wave Rage down on Fistral Beach
Last Ash Wednesday I had tantric sex and it was shit
Next Ash Wednesday I might strive to lick my elbow
Strive in vain
For they say
Few succeed

I wrote to the Horse and Hounds
To gloat over what I'd done
I stored their magazine in a data retrieval system
Let's face it, what're they going to do?
It's not as if they know where I live
And anyway I cut that caper back in 1984
Heartbroken matrons
On joyless beds
For those whose souls the iron has entered
And if I get to Heaven's gate
I'll doubtless have to wait
While St Peter investigates the inevitable asterisk
The inside of a Halex Three-Star table-tennis ball
Smells much like you'd expect it to