I dreamed I saw Hutchence last night,
Alive as you and me:
"Michael," I said, "I thought you're dead -
Saw the funereal on TV."
"Yeah, that's right Ron," the Hutch replied,
"That's why I'm not in heaven -
They told me no one can get in
If they've worked on Channel 7."
I just could not believe my ears,
But he looked me in the face:
"That's right, Ron: 7, 9 or 10,
And it's down to the Other Place."
"I'm in the Wanker's Section, Ron -
Where tossers only meet.
It's got a nickname down in Hell:
We call it "Brunswick St".
"I asked the Devil what I did wrong,
Could I have a second chance?
He said "You sealed your fate for good
By wearing black leather pants;
Same rule, Mike, for roller blades,
Or certain brands of runners."
"But Daryl-" I said. He cut me short:
"You call me Mr. Sommers."
"I'd met some fucking tossers, Ron,
But we've got it all down here:
There's latte drinkin', creative thinkin',
There's only foreign beer;
"I blew my chances with God, too, Ron:
He's a fucking brutal prick.
If you've no excuse for wanking,
You're down here pretty quick.
Like, A.D.D. or P.M.T -
Those excuses just won't stick:
God just replies: "P.M.O.D."
That stands for "Pull My Other Dick."
"It's a fine line, I'll tell you Ron,
Getting in to heaven:
Steve Waugh will get in quite all right,
But no way Michael Bevan.
God don't read modern poetry;
He thinks Andre Sarrano's a turd;
God prefers the sports section,
And he worships James Hird.
God just looked at Piss Christ, Ron,
Said: "Fucking wank, for mine;
That boy Jesus! Arty pounce!
It's an insult to urine."
I've got the worst news ever, Ron,
That wankers have ever heard:
I've been to God's place; now I know -
He's from the Western Suburbs!
"I want you to warn all people, Ron,
Though forget Dina Ah Neid -
Some wankers can escape their fate:
Too late for her, I'm afraid.
And don't worry about The Dirty Three;
Nor The Prodigy - 'specially Keith;
And you can sure as fuck forget about
That little cunt Peter Reith.
But warn the rest not to end up here -
Ron, you must be my saviour,
Or I might spend eternity
Talking to Helen Razor.
Now the devil calls me back to hell!
Ron, my fate to you I've showed.
One final warning I wish to give:
There's a speed camera near Punt Road."
But before Michael Hutchence disappeared
Back to his hellish prison
I heard him scream one final line
"The biggest wankers are in a band called-" Then I woke up.
Alternate verses:
"I'm in the Wanker's Section, Ron -
Where only tossers are.
It's got a nickname down in Hell:
We call it Victoria.
"I'm in the Wanker's Section, Ron
(Though the knob's taken off my door).
It's got a nickname down in Hell:
They call it the North Shore.
God don't like much of modern art;
He really hates Andre Serrano;
God prefers the sports section,
And He drives an old Monaro.
