Not Okay Cupid
 

Now Cupid’s no hero to husbands and wives:
His love of the bottle has wrecked many lives.
You might still believe he’s a chubby-cheeked youth;
Well listen up, stupid – for this is the truth.
He’s known round the bars from Milan to Torino.
For 3000 years he has been on the vino.
He hums to high heaven. More so than a skunk.
He’d rather not wash cos he’d rather get drunk.
He drinks so much vino it seeps from his pores.
His skin’s gone all crusty and covered with sores.
That once curly mop on the top of his head
Is balding and patchy and flaky and red.
He’s lazy, a drunkard, a slovenly blob,
It’s clear he’s really not up to the job.

He gifts love and lust with his bow and his arrow,
But after twelve pints he can’t shoot straight and narrow.
D’you think that your love life has oft gone askew?
The chance is that Cupid has ‘happened’ to you.
Ever woke in some bed, eyes red and all blinking,
Your conquest and hangover, equally stinking,
You turn to yourself and say, what was I thinking?
Well now you know why: it’s cos Cupid’s been drinking.

Half the world’s problems would soon go away,
If Cupid was sober for even one day.
But Cupid thinks drinking’s a form of fine art,
Which means that he’s normally pissed as a fart.
Take Billy. He found himself filled with desire
Cos Cupid was plastered and failed to expire
His arrow on target. It soon did transpire
That Billy was shopping. He’d shagged a papaya.
Or then there’s the tale of poor David, of course,
Who after one evening of fine intercourse Discovered he’d actually buggered a horse. And all because Cupid had been on the sauce.

Now these two strange tales might seem notably bad. (Poor Billy’s wife Jane’s understandably mad.) One horrible tale, though, got right out of hand Its consequence spiralling all through the land: