| What’s a laugh?
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| The sound of common-sense falling apart
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| What’s common-sense? |
| A million unthinking hearts
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| At the end of the working day
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| And who am I?
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| Call me the barman standing waiting for the workers
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| To drink their work away
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| I’m the man who serves the laughter
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| To the drunkards of disaster
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| After they’ve got plastered on the news
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| And I’ve got the situation comedy blues
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| What’s the situation?
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| This man has been abandoned by his woman
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| What’s the reason?
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| He’s lost his sense of humour
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| This man is sober
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| And so he s gone to bed with another writer’s scripts
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| And his wife has had to move in with her mother
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| And the man who serves the laughter
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| To the drunkards of disaster
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| After they’ve got plastered on the news
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| Has got the situation comedy blues
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| He’s been devising a new series
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| Where the first man to appear is
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| Pakistani and the second is a queer
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| Who rings the bell in tights and biker’s gear
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| And he tells them that he’s sorry to disturb them
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| But the sari that the wife had on today was out of sight
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| And could he maybe borrow it tonight?
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| And the man who serves the laughter
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| To the workaholics after
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| They’ve got drunk on the disasters of the news
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| Has got the situation comedy blues
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| So the Paki asks the queen in to his brilliantly-lit kitchen
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| Where he demonstrates his do-it-yourself tools
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| He’s the type who doesn’t gladly suffer fools
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| But he electrocutes his finger in his biggest Black and Decker
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| When his wife appears in towel and rubber hat
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| And the bath she s running floods the neighbours' flat
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| I’ve been sitting here unhappily
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| Trying to write this comedy
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| When I hear a sudden laugh in the next room
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| And thinking it’s my woman who’s come home
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| I call her name expectantly and, glad that she’s come back to me
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| I throw away my trivialising pen.
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| And then the television laughs again
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| Marie come back to me |