Farewell El Swanko

If you're young-ish, hip & chic
Spend your Christmas at Flat Magique
The music's good, but the rhymes are weak
Listen to our song tragique

Splishy splashy! It's time to dreenk
It's like sucking dew from a duck's beak
Unwrap your turban Mr. Sikh
Let your hair down, give your nipples a tweak
Lots of singing, not much speak
A few more beers we shall seek
Morning after, vom technique
We've woken up in Mozambique!

Ian's just a Hollyoaks freak
The acting's shite, wooden as teak
His hair is nice, his car is sleek
To make up for his tiny pricke

Si's always in a panique
He's so uptight his buttocks squeek
His eyebrow ring is still septique
Comics, movies, fucking geek!

Jon's got all the CDs musique
Come climb his rack to the peak
Your ears may bleed, your fluids leak
But don't knock his taste, it's eclectique

Down the chimney Santa will sneak
His trousers rip, you hear a shreak
In the fireplace, a bare arse cheek
He's followed through, his pants they reek

So say goodbye to a year so bleak
Look forward to one that'll be unique
Apart from more repeats of Dawson's Creek
El Swanko's gone, here's Flat Magique