I'm tired of feeling stupid when I can't read any signs,
and chopsticks would be better if they had an edge and tines;
futon's just a fancy word for sleeping on the floor
and God wouldn't have invented chips if fish was nicer raw;
and when I try to ogle all the ladies as they pass,
their tits are unimpressive and they're hardly blessed with arse;
and the Japanese aesthetic has the elegant restraint
of a colour-blind Las Vegas whore who's high from sniffing paint.

Oh, to be in England, eating apple pie and custard,
or a slice of rare roast beef with just a dash of English mustard.
'Cos I'm sick of eating oodles
of subtly different noodles;
and when I ask for HP Sauce, the waitress just gets flustered.




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