Me and Debbie McGee

That evening's gig had not gone well.
I'd been quite unprofessional.
"Please pick a card sir, any card...
Except for that one you retard!"
I sprinted back to my hotel.

I saw her sitting by the bar.
She had the presence of a star.
I made adjustments to my wig,
Tried to make myself look big
And played her just like a guitar.

She became part of my routine.
That girl was a magician's dream.
There were none that she would bow to.
Nobody else knew quite how to
Manipulate the guillotine.

For years our stars they burned so bright -
The king and queen of Saturday night
But they say each dog has its day.
Hans Moretti* had to give way
To all of that Noel Edmonds shite.

It's left us both with time to spare
And cash for the Ballet Imaginaire.
Girls claim to have been sexually healed
By fun size David Copperfield
But I don't need to keep no score,
Debbie's the one that I adore.
Some nights lately I've been dreaming
We're on a hillside and I'm screaming:
"IDOLISE ME DEBBIE McGEE!
IDOLISE ME DEBBIE McGEE!"
One girl's devotion's good enough for me,
Good enough for me and Debbie McGee.

B.R. 15/02/2013

 * Hans Moretti is a German magician who was a regular on The Paul Daniels Magic Show in the 1980s. I well remember this rather scary bald gentleman with his bristling moustache looming large in our living room. If he wasn't shooting an apple off his wife's head with a crossbow whilst blindfolded then he was plunging a dagger into his forearm, causing me to push my Jam Roly-Poly and custard away, untouched. B.R.