The Sleaze Ball

Welcome to the sleaze ball
where the pot-bellied call the different
kettle of very fishy fish indeed
black as the battered night
(Come into the garden maudlin)

the sleaze ball where the worsted suits
are busted and flush with walls of silence
where the funnybone is a whopping fibula
and The Incredible Gunk
hubbles for months like sickening fondue

Welcome to the sleaze ball
where members cannot tie their tongues
and gobbledy turkeys
stuff themselves with slippery fingers
pressing flesh at The Last Suppurate

the sleaze ball where one wallow
does not make a summer
and the fast buckhander does not stop here
but dances a slaver nagila
with their thousand nicker in a Ritzy twist

Welcome to the sleaze ball
where the rich whisper of pursed lips
melts questions like globs of goo
and the wildgoose fat of wax was
dips into shadow like small wet wicks

the sleaze ball where thin ice skaters
skirt the tissue of lies
and blow their gaffes like strumpets
in the blubber-white morning
with a quick slap and trickle


Welcome to the sleaze ball
where the jumping jack gas of today
is tomorrow's leaden emission
and the slurp is of soft suckers
up to their snouts in a slurry

the sleaze ball where thick geysers
spout their sump total of experience
and man the bilge pumps in the greasy spittoon
yet fall overboard with one last heave
when their mistress flares go up

Welcome to the sleaze ball
to the bribe and the groom in the oil aisle
("where there's a swill they're away")
and the marriage of private money
with public convenience

the sleaze ball you can shoot
once you glimpse the pinks of their eyes
and the custardy phlegm
in the drivel line down their chinny chin chin
calling their Carpe Diem: sleaze the day after.

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From the book Tony Blair reminds me of a budgie