There'll be no more selling fork handles,
And no more "language" from Tim,
No more of those wonderful monologues,
For it's sadly goodnight from him.
I'm troubled by a past mistake,
A stupid thing I said,
The more I try to bury it,
The more it haunts my head.
The sensible thing to do is to learn from such mistakes and move on.
However, sometimes this is easier said than done!
Each time that Britain clashed against
The Continental powers,
We'd turn to him for guidance,
Throughout those dreadful hours.
And as our hopes were dashed again,
And annihilation came,
He'd remind us all, with jokes and quips,
IT'S ONLY A BLOODY GAME!
Sir Terry had a very long and distinguished career at the BBC and I will always remember him for his wonderfully irreverent take on the Eurovision Song Contest.
Don't bother with Halloween costumes,
Like the monster wielding an axe,
Dress up as an unexpected bill,
Or a demand to pay more tax.
Pretend to be negative equity,
An inadequate pension pot,
An interest rate that's climbing,
Or a sinkhole under our plot.
You don't even need to wear scary garb,
You can spook us with what you say,
Tell men they're beginning to lose their hair,
Or women they're turning grey.
For these are the things that scare us,
And truly give us a fright,
Tell us we're facing redundancy,
And you'll keep us awake at night.
But if all that fails to move us,
And you're feeling really bold,
Just remind us we'll never be young again,
And say we look really old.
But the very thought of it scares the hell out of me.