Telling tales you’ve heard before, he holds the sticky floor,
Has to be the centre of the universe, and more.
For every single fact you state, he’s certain that it’s wrong.
Ready with a loud opinion all day long.
Empty pockets, full of brag, and always running late,

In every pub and on the bus, he’s sealed your weary fate.
Spilling half his pint again while blaming it on you,

Always got a "mate" who knows exactly what to do.
Laughing like a drain at jokes that only he finds great,
Waving his vape around the place to help him concentrate.
And when the silence would be gold, a treasure to behold,
You know his most repeated story has to be retold.
Standing there, he'll clap off-beat and try a clumsy dance.

Adopting a political (and soon-to-change) new stance.
Proudly offering his thoughts, a constant, flowing stream,
Insisting that he knows the truth behind the grander scheme.
Leaning in to share a tip with a conspiratorial wink,
Letting you know everything, he doesn't think.
Oblivious to the shared grins, the patience was wearing thin,
Confident he's charmed all the places he's been in.
Keeping life from being dull, a bore