Norman Fowler.
Leslie Crowther.
The Price is Right.
The fist is tight.
He's a tight-fisted bastard,
as tight as they come.
If he was homosexual,
he'd have a price tag on his bum.

Are you one of the disadvantaged many,
one of the moaning minnies who haven't got a penny?
If you are, don't despair, go to the local DHSS, Norman Fowler's waiting there.
With rosy cheeks and beaming smile, he'll scrutinise your personal file.
And when you ask for a nice new coat, don't despair Norman's there,
offering without hesitation, a crisp, new, ten shilling note.

Are your clothes all tattered and torn, or is your baby about to be born?
Or if you're on the verge of death and can't afford your final death.
If you are, don't be shy, go and see Norman, he won't lie.
Ask him why your stomach aches, your roof leaks, your walls are damp.
Ask him why your hopes are dashed, every time your Girocheque is cashed.

Norman always has the answer, it isn't him who wants to cut the costs.
It's not his fault when your files are lost.
He'll always quote a paragraph, a sub-section or two.
Safe in the knowledge that DHSS rules, don't mean a thing to you.
But Norman's words of wisdom will put pride back in your heart.
Even though you keep on saying, that "Norman's word's of wisdom aren't worth a silent fart".

Norman Fowler.
Leslie Crowther.
The Price is Right.
The fist is tight.
He's a tight-fisted bastard,
as tight as they come.
If you want to contact Norman Fowler,
write to Number 10, Downing Street,
care of, Margaret Thatcher's bum!

© Edward ian Armchair 2002