We are bountifully beautiful and fabulously famous –
in any busy shopping mall nine out of ten could name us.
Our hair is very glossy and our teeth are very shiny
and our heads are very big, although our brains are only tiny.
People say that we are lazy, but we’re actually hard-working.
Always chatting on some TV show or in a nightclub, twerking
or showing off our surgically remodelled genitalia
or eating creepy crawlies in a jungle in Australia.
And who are you to criticise? You’re ugly and you’re smelly.
You talk about “achievement” but you’ve never been on telly.
Your face looks like a mask a hippopotamus has sat on
you say you’ve got a “Nobel Prize”, but what game show was that on?
These days we’re getting older and the tabloids have forgotten us
and life returns to normal: that is, mindless and monotonous.
We’re back to cleaning toilets or else stacking shelves in LIDL
and just like you we’ve got big rolls of fat around our middle.
All the same we are still different, we’re special: you can tell us
by this quality that you don’t have and we do, and you’re jealous.
There’s still a bit of swagger in our step, and who can blame us?
We may be washed-up now, but unlike you, we were once famous.