Tour de France Lyrics

I feel the cold

despite the fat

I've been around

Since Mike was black

Tempers flare

When in a crowd

I lock my door

And stay a twat

It's speculated

Yes it's speculated

It's speculated

That indeed I might be a cunt

Blondes in ranges

Trailing horses

Stuck up bitches

That's Britons classes

Head to town

You can't go fast

There's twats in lycra

It's Tour de France

Let them ride

Those lycra mites

Into crowds of wolves

I hope they bite

I beg your pardon

You've quite the right

It's speculated

I'm full of shite

It's speculated

Yes it's speculated

It's speculated

That indeed I might be a cunt

I start to shout

Then simmer down

Just like the Fonze

I'm cooler now

A Buddhist monk

I've got the call

No need to shave

It's on the floor

I Don't have friends

That I can call

I lost their numbers

Or binned them all

I'm either high

Or in a grump

And it's speculated

That I'm a cunt

It is speculated

It's been speculated

How is life so

Shake it up

Elvis

Is a cunt

I'm innocent no prints

I'm innocent no prints

I'm innocent no prints

I'm just kidding cunt

It's speculated

Yes it's been speculated

It's been speculated that indeed

I might be a cunt

We have your results, Mr Bellissi

And it's speculated, that indeed you are a cunt