I am gonna to Hollywood,
I am, I’m gonna be a big star,
my name in lights and stretched limosine,
a house in Beverly Hills you know what I mean,
I’m gonna be a great big movie star.
You are talking out of your arse son,
you can’t appeal to anyone,
you sit around in your grubby little pants,
with your packet of biscuits and a pen in your hands,
that is when your hand isn’t down your grubby little pants.
You’ll see, nobody can stop me,
my name is going down in history.
You write all your letters to MGM,
on your exercise book with your booky’s pen,
nobody in Hollywood will be receiving them.
Why has nobody been receiving them?
Has someone, someone been diverting them?
Yes it was me, I broke into your flat,
and nicked all your letters from your Scooby Doo bag,
then buried them under a pile of farmyard shite.
