Jodie Mush

Think of you with fishy knickers
Think of your street cred
Don’t you know she’s rather smelly
You must be off your head

you know that she’ll grow old and scabby
and all on live TV
Don’t marry the Jodie

And its not worth the diseases
you’ll allegedly receive
She’s so desperate for love you see
That she’s paid off MTV

Shell suck your sweaty bollocks
For all the world to see
Don’t marry the Jodie

And the Sunday sun shines down on sleepy Brentwood town
As they wake to the latest exploits of their local clown
they hang their heads in shame,
at her desperate bid for fame
Don’t marry the Jodie

Those lovely Sunday mornings
When you used to lie in bed
Will soon be replaced by joyful trips
To see Marge and Parge instead

She’s sure to rip your soul right out
And throw away the key
Don’t marry the Jodie

And the house is never tidy
And the wardrobes full of tat
Shes a diploma in porno gurning
And she doesn’t like your cat

When your head is full of dreams of bliss
But she’s the reality
Don’t marry the Jodie

And the Sunday sun shines down on sleepy Brentwood town
As they wake to the latest exploits of their local clown
they hang their heads in shame,
at her desperate bid for fame
Don’t marry the Jodie

And the Sunday sun shines down on sleepy Brentwood town
As they wake to the latest exploits of their local clown
they hang their heads in shame,
at her desperate bid for fame
Don’t marry the Jodie