Let's write a bleak tale of murder
A crime novel set in Scandinavia
Give us a gloomy antihero
Given to some antisocial behaviour
Our central character, Sven or Lars
Is often depressed in lowdown bars
He smokes, he drinks, he likes Sibelius
He's haunted by his abject failures
Oh, when writing your novel, all you need to know
Is it's just a Raymond Chandler with a lot more snow
♪
To write a good book, the first in a thrilling series
A stiff is found in Stockholm near the Irish pub O'Leary's
The cadaver is that of Kiersten, a dancer in Mamma Mia
She'd been horribly branded with names of the furniture ranges from IKEA
FAMNIG! (sss) BESTÅ! (sss) BENNO! (sss)
Our man drives to the scene in his Volvo, being careful not to speed
And though it delays him, he buckles his seatbelt, because he's a boring Swede
He tracks his suspect to Malmö after endless days of sleet falls
Meanwhile in a processing factory more bodies are found in a vat of meatballs
A noisy shootout leaves our protagonist temporarily deaf
And book one ends when he works out the killer must be the Muppet Chef
Oh, it was me, Swedish Chef! I did it with my
Moulinex, MagiMaker and my slotted spoon! Mwa-ha-ha!
Woo-hoo! How exciting! Now I can't wait for book two!
Ooh, you'll have to wait for book two, I use my Breville sandwich toaster
Woo-ho-ho-ho-ho!
And an oven mit!
It gets very messy!
Hoo-hoo...
(It's really unfair, they haven't done that before!)
Let's write a fun girly novel
The kind that sports a pastel cover
Set in a world where a good career
Is just as vital as a lover
Bestriding the world in six inch heels
Our heroine does multimillion deals
She's hip and clever, smart and urban
And finds the sight of sheep disturbin'
Oh, she'll never need to wed or cohabit
'Cause in her Hermès bag is a rampant rabbit
♪
To write a good book, a shining example of chick lit
Begin with a fashion editor who drives her Audi to Kwik-Fit
She's immediately attracted to a man in a red Lamborghini
But of course, she assumes he only drives it because his penis is weeny
At a business lunch at the Ivy, she wears Azzedine Alaïa
In the ladies, she pops in some Chinese balls, which set her twat on fire
Then she rushes off to a photoshoot of the latest Jil Sander collection
Which is taking place in an abattoir to set off the clothes to perfection
After shopping at La Perla, it's time to pick her Audi up
And she's nicely surprised when the handsome mechanic drinks from her fuzzy cup
♪
Let's write a celebrity biog
About your rise to national stardom
How you grew up in Romford, Essex
A dead-end life that you have come so far from
Your fledgling career took an upward shunt
When you won actual money on Bargain Hunt
You've a Chinese symbol tattooed on your wrist
You think it says "peace", but it really says "pissed"
Oh, include lots of shots of you in skimpy clothes
It'll obviate the need to write too much prose
♪
To write a good book, and the first book's only a taster
Your mum was a one-legged lesbian, who conceived with a turkey baster
You knew that destiny'd singled you out, a dancer, maybe a singer
And ignored all those jeering jezebels who called you a slaggy old minger
(Slaggy old minger!) Shut up!
You won the heart of the nation in a reality show about slappers
Were captured on film with Ashley Cole being sausaged like the clappers
Then you had your boobs implanted, had them removed, then wish you'd kept 'em
Told the surgeon to give you Britney's nose when he had to rebuild your septum
And now you stand to make millions, well, the tabloids have gone mad
'Cause hubby number three turns out is your biological dad
Though with the likes of Dostoevsky, you'll surely never rank
Sell the movie rights and laugh all the way to the bank
Ha, ha-ha-ha-ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
Ha, ha