Above, a photo of that strange little David Furbyish, who used to jerk off to the music of his favorite singer, Smelton John. David even married his idol. Sadly...
....A big scandal today involves poor Smelton John, unable to keep a lid on the shitstorm caused by unfaithful young Furbyish. John's lawyers have toilet-stalled the British tabloids, but the news has leaked out through the World Wide Wet-Net. "Respect my privates," Mr. John declared, but anything famous people do is considered "news" fit to print. His face flushed bright pink, Smelton John begged "Don't Let "THE SUN" Go Down On Me...or the "DAILY MAIL." To no avail. Now we all know his young hubby Furbyish had a three year affair with some other man, and even a three-way (with two other men, of course. The guy wouldn’t do anything perverted!).
Smelton John's mother loathed Furbyish, and others complained that Furbyish was firing people and taking over. Still, some thought the odd little creature was a stabilizing influence on the wild Mr. John, whose life had been going down the tubes. Too bad David needed to take anal vacations from his demanding diva husband. Or bride. Or whatever they call each other.
What an irony. Just a month ago, Smelton was telling Gay Wenner, publisher of the Roiling Scone, “I’ve never been happier. I have an upbeat new album, I adore being a father, or a mother, or whatever the hell I am, and my boy toy is Furbyish! I have homes all over the world, nobody wonders if it's a wig or a weave or a transplant, and as for my meddling stupid old mother, I couldn’t care if I ever see the old hag again.”
More and more tabloids are reporting on Furbyish and his promiscuous game of thrones on the toilet of some pubic hairdresser (who had his hands full thanks to David having pubes all over his body). While some can't believe gay marriage could fail (after all, it doesn't involve TWAT), this union is suffering from, like Springsteen's under lip, a rough patch.
And so, the guy ridiculed early in life for his real name, Wedgie Tight, is now having to endure cracks from the press and some iconoclastic and rude bloggers.
You might well ask, “What is the download below, O Ye of Little Taste?”
It's Smelton’s quickly-done song for his wayward husband, whom he has affectionately called “Fanny Boy.” You'll remember that as soon as Princess Diana and her hummus-faced rich Muzzie crashed, John rubbed out a hit single with revised lyrics to "Candle in the Wind." Once again, he phoned up ex-Grimsby gynecologist-turned-lyricist Bernie Tampon, and said, “Can you re-write the song as “Candle in the Butt?” I want to shine a light on what this asshole did to me."
Tampon replied, “Please, not that bloody song again." A minute later, he faxed over "Fanny Boy" with a note: “This is your song. It’s quite simple. I hope you don’t mind.”
It IS pretty simple. It's about how Furbyish not only cheated, but obviously spent a lot of Smelton’s money in the pursuit of pleasure, even pawning some of Smelton’s treasures when he couldn't get his hands on the joint bank account while seeking to get his hands on some guy's joint. Furbyish supposedly pawned pairs of Smelton's famous glasses and even some gaudy jewel-encrusted knickers. (Those knickers were encrusted with something, we all assume jewels.)
From Bernie’s lyric sheet:
“Oh Fanny Boy, you’ve left me sad and lonely. There is no end to what I’d do for you. You have no friends. I was your one and only. But now you’ve gone. And pawned my wristwatch too. Oh Fanny Boy, I know that you are younger. Just 20 years and I am 40 more. If you but knew about my burning hunger, you would’ve stayed, and not walked out the door. So please come back! And I’ll forget…you took the car and chauffeur.”
“Oh Fanny Boy, you’ve left my board and my lodging. You didn’t realize how good you had it here. My dear young man, police you’ll soon be dodging! You’ll live in style but constant dread and fear. So please come back and all will be forgiven. The stocks and bonds, the crystal chandelier. But bring ye back my mattress and my pillow. I promise I won’t prosecute you, dear….”
Smelton John Fanny Boy