| Good evening, do you know any good monsters?
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| Did you ever swerve your car at today’s top speed
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| Of thirty-five miles an hour into an automobile?
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| Do you ever do the dishes for your wife? |
| I should say not
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| Mrs. Carter doesn’t really mind washing her teflon-coated pans
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| New, vital and fashionable
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| Fond of children? |
| Well, it’s only natural
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| Yes, you can’t get away from it
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| There are branches everywhere
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| And it’s safe? |
| Yes, sir
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| Deep down, down between the trees
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| Nestled in the laves, gleams a TV screen
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| Near a small lad sitting in th tall grass
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| It’s an odd transmission to be broadcast
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| Listen as we talk dark thoughts and soar past
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| The watershed line before your bedtime
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| You’ll panic like a rabbit that is caught in headlights
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| Reckon we’re manic? |
| Of course, you’re dead right
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| You better exercise more caution next time
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| Or you’ll end up in tomorrow morning’s headlines
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| Obituary, nothing more than «born and then died»
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| And not a single family member or a friend cried
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| Tune into the madness
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| Tune into the madness once more
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| Tune into the madness
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| Tune into the madness, encore
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| This remarkable offer, the first and only one of its kind
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| Delicious, nutritious breakfast cereals
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| Shot from guns
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| Yes, sir! |
| You could buy eight additional teaspoons
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| Oh, look who’s come for tea, are you sitting comfortably?
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| All of the children better sit still then
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| ‘Cause when little kiddies fidget then I kill them
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| Class is now in session, time you learned your lesson
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| Stare into the glare until your mind is effervescent
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| Bubbling the troubling, you’ll find it less depressing
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| Open up your eyes, you’ll be surprised what you might let in
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| The violent and the tragic, hiding in the static
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| This silent, enigmatic child had better pack it in
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| And leave the schedule to the grown-ups
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| Revel in the pestilence Auntie Beeb throws up
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| As a result of long continuing results in commercial explosives
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| Pepsodent’s new, improved formula cleans teeth whiter than ever
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| Mhm, it certainly does
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| Tune into the madness
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| Pictures handpicked to be sickening, queasy
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| Tune into the madness
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| Transfixed and bewitched by the flickering TV
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| Up, hold up, don’t touch that dial
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| Look at our isle of muck and bile
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| With a saviour clad in a paper bag
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| That must be one ugly child
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| Gaze into the space between the pixels on the screen
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| There, you’ll see a place between the signal and the screams
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| Feel the oscillation of the crystal in your dreams
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| Just switch off your brain and let it sizzle in the beams
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| These scenes, some viewers may find disturbing
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| Violent and unnerving, frighteningly alluring
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| Slightly stomach churning, why would you be turning over?
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| Oh, so many programs for discerning viewers
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| Who are just like you
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| Eyes locked to the box for the schlock like glue
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| Shambling in their droves, scrambling their lobes
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| Get mangled in the strobe ‘til you’re cross-eyed too
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| Here’s a message to millions of people
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| Who are continually pale and washed out, weak and run down
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| All I do is bring you pounds and pounds of baby food
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| Good, lean butcher’s steak, very satisfying cake
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| Impress this fact upon mother
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| Boys and girls have overactive oil glands
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| Don’t say it like that! |
| You’ll make her sound ungainly
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| Tune into the madness
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| Tubes swimming with miasmic blackness
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| Tune into the madness
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| Sit glued to your viewing apparatus
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| Izzy, wizzy, let’s get busy
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| Such a pity diddy kiddies threw a tizzy
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| Don’t be silly, what’s the trouble, little Timmy?
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| Itty-bitty nippers should be giddy for the TV
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| Strange lights are disguised in the bright glare
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| Daytime television’s hellish in the right mindset
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| Too much time staring’ll make your eyes square
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| Any more, you’ll end up like that child there
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| Can’t toggle off the gogglebox so pop another bottle top
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| Top up your cup and sup the propaganda, prost, mazel tov
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| They say it’s challenging to break a daily habit
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| Pacified into paralysis, a state of telly addicts
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| Maybe one day, the cathode rays will be chromatic
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| Bringing colour to the pallor of the faces in the static
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| Taking off the mask, my behaviour is erratic
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| Claiming to be sane but I’m just asymptomatic |
| Wait, did you hear that? |
| Someone’s pacing in the attic
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| What in the blazes could be making such a racket?
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| Ooh, I say, you gave me a fright there
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| I think I’m having another little nightmare
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| Tune into the madness
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| Urchins channel-surfing and subservient to the sadness
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| Zoom in with the cameras
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| Squirming as the sermon’s stirred into your hippocampus
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| Cream
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| Not a soap, not a liquid but a dainty cream
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| It covers everything easily and beautifully
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| And what an eyeful they’re going to get
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| Mhm! |
| Mhm-hm
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| Feast your eyes 'til you’re anaesthetised
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| Lead a peaceful life for the cheapest price
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| No need to seek advice or plea to Jesus Christ
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| In the deep of night, you’ll really see the light
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| No one observes just how ominous the world is when monotonous
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| Channelling the brightest minds
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| Until they turn witless and ponderous
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| Their alertness is interred in this infernalest sarcophagus
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| The absurd and the preposterous, burned in by the phosphorus
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| Uncertain what lurks under the surface of your consciousness?
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| Observe it and you’ll learn that it’s perturbing
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| Sick and monstrous, keep surfing through diversions
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| Uma Therman’s new detergent
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| Normal service will return after a word from our sponsors
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| Ladies, what’s your problem?
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| Gracious! |
| I’ve nothing for the Johnson’s yet
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| Keep calm, folks
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| Buy the gifts that will look more expensive than they are
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| Two-hundred different formulations of dynamite
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| So powerful that it’ll kill a rat
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| Press this secret button right here
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| And an authentic western pistol pops out and fires
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| Tune into the madness
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| A bountiful lineup of schooling and comedy
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| Huge wins at the Baftas
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| Bound to be prizes when you’re every nominee
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| Tune into the madness
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| Tune into the madness, once more
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| Tune into the madness
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| Tune into the madness, encore
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| No guest is ever really happy without the right kind of tea
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| Well don’t keep staring at it, taste it
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| Getting high on life could be habit-forming
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| You just can’t grow up fast enough, can you? |