I've never climbed a mountain Of a particularly challenging size I've never run a bank Reserve or otherwise I've never been the captain of a team And I’ll know you’ll be surprised To find I didn’t invent the Internet Haven’t reached a double A rating yet Abolishing Apartheid seemed to work For F. W. de Klerk
I may not be a powerful Or impressive looking man But I can guarantee that if you hire me I won’t cost you thirty thousand grand And if you are B.T. I will do the gig for free If you’ll just send out a man To sort out my broadband
I’m not married to Paul McCartney I am not an amputee I’ve never played at Wembley Stadium Or made poverty history I haven’t yet been knighted Nor received my MBE I find it hard to leave my living room Yet alone go walking on the moon Never studied the seven favourite tactics of Garry Kasparov
But I can sing and play piano I’ll even do it at the same time I aim to please with melodies And generally amusing rhymes So why not hire me and get a nice song Rather than paying Lance Armstrong Fifty thousand quid to ramble on about cancer And bikes Boring!
I never ruled a superpower Or did the naughty business with a cigar I’ve got no funky birthmark and I didn’t start Democratic reform in the USSR But let’s be honest would you rather eat cake With an ex-head of state Or a nice Australian chap singing songs about inflatable boobs?
I may not be real famous Or particularly good But you should hire me while I’m still a C I might be the next Victoria Wood And if you are B.T. I will do a show for free If you’ll just send out a man To sort out my bloody broadband
I can’t shout like Gordon Ramsey Or chase shadows like Hans Blix Can’t bowl flippers like Shayne Warne Nor have I flipped as many chicks I’m not as honourable as William Hague I don’t dig on politics And I can’t inspire you to strive To be more present in your daily lives Can’t alter human nature in a night Like Anthony Robins might Like Tony Robins might
But I’ve got a quaint Australian accent That’s must be worth a beverage I’m not saying I’m the peer of Germaine Greer Or Dame Edna Everage But everybody loves a true blue Aussie Like the croc hunter, Steve He wore his bleeding heart on his khaki sleeve And I can play piano without looking That must be worth a couple of grand I’ve not got he CV Of Boutros Boutros-Ghali Nelson Mandela or Kofi Annan But let’s be honest, all these luminaries Rambling on about peace Is not as much fun as some karaoke
There’s a lady who’s sure All that glitters is Gold And she’s buying a stairway to heaven When she gets there she knows If the stores are all closed She can seek some legal advice From Ernst and Young
See I do gig-specific references I’ll chuck in a couple of relevant lines I’ll give a birthday shout Or get the Santa hat out I’ll even sing you Auld Lang Syne Cos I’ll be honest See my wife’s eight months gone Now we’re on one income And we just immigrated and we don’t have any furniture I may not be that famous Or impressive to anyone But you should hire me Cos I’m gonna be a daddy and I’ll need to buy nappies for my new born son And if you are BT I’ll do the gig for free If you’ll just send out a man To take us to Ikea in his BT van Buy a crap cot and a Swedish pram But on the way home we can sort out a plan To sort out my fucking Broadband My fucking Broadband