When two names are not the same
but share the game that we call fame,
it’s time to play the bungle game
and look from whence this jungle came.
If Women’s Day had thought to say,
when the photo came their way,
in a call to B Fevola
on his solar Motorola,
“You ridiculously stupid, callous and disrespectful prick, what on earth were you thinking! You should be ashamed of yourself. Even Sam Newman wouldn’t do that, and that’s saying something!
– no way will we pay,”
we’d be back to cricket as the ticket
and just a model with a waddle.
But in comes Max who has some yaks
with those hacks whose work is lax,
and before they cack their dacks
he gets to work behind their backs.
Meanwhile Clarke is yelling fark
with an Aston Martin back to park,
and to plumbers the poor man hollers,
“It’s $200,000 dollars
that’s gone down my Bondi dunny!”
But it’s not about the money,
and it really isn’t funny …
Cause he’s thinking runs and creases,
sinking tons and breaking leases,
if he could only get away
from the barking media fray.
Let’s hope for him it’s not too loud
in the land of the wrong white crowd
for him to do what he does best
and pin the poo on all the rest.
We’re near the end now of this jingle
but I’ll lend just one more tingle:
so now it’s over, tell me Lara,
Um, where the bloody hell are ya?