| We’re all cuddles and smiles
|
| At the press photocall
|
| Though you hate to touch me
|
| And I couldn’t love you at all
|
| Because I’m not an ordinary guy
|
| And you’re not an ordinary girl
|
| But that’s how we have to appear now we’re
|
| The best in the world
|
| And The Sun is uncharacteristically wise
|
| When it captions the photograph
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| 'Love on ice'
|
| Love on ice
|
| One perfect couple on four perfect blades
|
| We execute two perfect figures of eight
|
| We accept the bouquets but we’d just like to say
|
| Before these flowers wither like all accolades
|
| I’m only doing this for Christopher
|
| And you’re only doing it for Jane
|
| In the Radio Times and on breakfast TV
|
| Our faces appear because young healthy faces
|
| Are what the world’s dying to see
|
| In an advert promoting a diet
|
| We skate to a halt and say 'Try it!'
|
| But how could a straight have a figure or skate
|
| Without my anxiety?
|
| And the caption they use in the Radio Times
|
| And over their products is
|
| 'Love on ice'
|
| Love on ice
|
| One perfect couple on four perfect blades
|
| We execute two perfect figures of eight
|
| We accept the bouquets but we’d just like to say
|
| Before these flowers wither like all accolades
|
| We want to come out of the closet
|
| We’d give up the life of the stars
|
| If Christopher wasn’t our manager
|
| And Jane didn’t do our cocaine and our PR
|
| It began to go wrong
|
| But the press wouldn’t leave us alone
|
| We lost to a couple of Soviets who skated like robots
|
| And when we came home
|
| The tabloids said I’d died of AIDS
|
| And you’d set up camp with the Greenham Brigades
|
| And the serious papers we offered our story said 'Sorry'
|
| And slammed down the phone
|
| But in City Limits they mentioned us twice
|
| In a feature and letter they titled respectively
|
| 'Love on ice' and 'Gay love on Ice'
|
| One perfect couple on four perfect blades
|
| We execute two perfect figures of eight
|
| But the ice is a mirror in which people see
|
| Their nation and their sexuality
|
| And now we’ve come out of the closet
|
| No-one remembers our names
|
| And Christopher isn’t our manager
|
| And we need the PR more than Jane needs our cocaine |