Kitchen utensils

 Spoons: they can dish it out, and they can take it.

Bowls: they can take it, but they can't dish it out.

The meaning of Brief encounter

 Perhaps the film is an answer to the question:

Where in this clothes shop do you keep the underpants?

Briefs on counter

Badger sett free

 I'm so black and white

Black and white that's me

I only see right and wrong

The grey shades don't occur for long

I wanna live like a colour TV

I wanna trade in my coat

I've been picking up my giro

On the unemployment lines

Benefits to badger

Wildlife welfare cheques

They treat me like a charity case

On the breadline, I wanna break their necks

All the money goes on car parks anyway

These well wishers, it's true

But why don't they just try living for a day like we do

On the Badger Breadline

Hard lined, and hard nosed sniffing out grubs

From under a rose

What I like I'm stubborn until I get it

I'm unimpressed by their cameras

watching where my Sett is

How would they like it if I set up shop outside their home and started filming

everytime they come and go?

Noting what they eat and when and even every time they take a shit

There's no dignity in it

Anyway I'm changing, the emperor's changing clothes

I'm going to paint myself a rainbow badger

See what Chris Packham and his wildlife crew

Will do

They'll probably pull their hair probably re-write natural history

They'll put it down to badger stress from living on the breadline

He didn't turn grey, just for badgers, he turned multicoloured

Like a TV with its wires crossed like a satellite on the blink

Like the moon shone a disco ball of sparkling strobe lighting

And I just let myself go and danced like Grease Lightning

I just slicked back my rainbow locks and rocked around the BBC garden

I just let rip my rainbow ship and it sailed off into the horizon to harden

I've had enough of living like a pauper

I'm gonna live like Cindy Lauper

Because Badgers just want to have fun

Badger breadline

This one's going out to all my 

mustelids out there

All my polecats, weasels, stoats,

All my skunks from other mothers

My pine martens and otters

Keep it real brothers

Sacred is the Murray mint and humbug 

I'm just another badger on the breadline

I'm just another badger on the breadline

I'm just another badger riding the badgerline

It's from Frome to Rome and it is on time

I've got to get myself together in time

I'm just another young badger living on the breadline

You wanna roll with me, you've gotta take the punches

You wanna eat squirrel well we'll have worms for lunches

We ain't buying our meals from Greggs or subway

We're lookin in fields, digging up dead stumps anyway

We can

Just another young badger on the Breadline

I'm talking about breadline, dread-line, that homeless feeling deadline 

Always on the run, ready, get Sett, go!

Watch the farmer's gun

Always lookin for our badger cave

Better make sure we don't dig our own grave

Living underground, away from busy traffic sound

Below and beyond the blue yonder

When we come out its starlit wonder

Black and blue the heavens chew

Over our immortal questions we ponder

Who was the Holy Badger Father

Head of our Order

The brotherhood of the Badger

Jean Paul Sartre 

Came from Secret World 

Rescued By the Abbot

Came to live in the habit

With Run away rabbits

But he brings them all in

When he gives his sermon

All the animals sing

Hail to the king

Hail to the brotherhood

Order of the skunk

Hail to the Holy Badger

High up Holy Monk

Storm at sea

 Oh your teeth are chattering and your cage is rattling

And I can hear your glass ceiling shattering

Well outside is the rain

And inside is the pain

Of my heart crashing against yours

Like some Viking longboats

Clashing oars

Pandamonium all aboard

This ship of success

Break through the storm

Until you see the sky

Wild wiley loon

Flowing along the cutting edge

Of the blade of your love

That falls like a lightning strike from above

Right into the heart of me

Through the storm's eye

Joke 678

 I went to a peanut farm and asked them to tell me how they grew them, in a nutshell.

Bowsprit

 I wake to the sound of traffic

Buzzing in my ears

Busy bees so hard at work

Goes on and on for years

Where do they get to while I rest?

A few more miles up the mountain

Pushing the boulder as Sisyphus

To reach the eternal fountain

Well I'm down here in my hovel

But I don't bow and I won't grovel

It seems like spit is rain off my shovel

I'm staying home today