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