This was a wasted opportunity. If I had the ability, and the time to spend on it (Which should really be spent on analysing data for my essays rather than writing lyrics for someone with greater technological abilities to use if they ever find this whilst watching Half Blood Prince and wondering why Philosopher's Stone is on tomorrow and they're not showing the films in order.) here's how my version would go: -
Nom nom nom nom,
Nom nom nom nom.
I want the big ones like they make in Millie's, please,
Break 'em up and eat 'em after dipping in my tea (I'd dunk it).
Chocolate and fruit pieces, chunks in spades all through the dough,
I'm completely hooked, one by one I will swallow.
Nom, nom nom nom, nom, nomnomnomnomnomnom,
I'll eat them hot, gooey chocolate.
Nom, nom nom nom, nom, nomnomnomnomnomnom,
I'll eat them hot, gooey chocolate.
Can't eat my, can't eat my,
No you can't eat from my cookie tin,
(He won't share with anybody.)
Can't eat my, can't eat my,
No you can't eat from my cookie tin,
(He won't share with anybody.)
Coo-coo-coo-cookie tin, coo-coo-cookie tin,
(Nom nom nom nom.)
Coo-coo-coo-cookie tin, coo-coo-cookie tin,
(Nom nom nom nom.)
Roll the dough and cut it, bake it, hard it then will be,
Baking with some flour is more fun when you're with me (I throw it.)
Snack time between meals can be more than just some gum,
And when it comes to treats if it's not crumbly it's not fun, fun.
Nom, nom nom nom, nom, nomnomnomnomnom,
I eat them hot, gooey chocolate.
Nom, nom nom nom, nom, nomnomnomnomnom,
I eat them hot, gooey chocolate.
I'll stuff my, I'll stuff my,
Oh yes I'll stuff my cookie face,
(He's got a chunky body.)
I'll stuff my, I'll stuff my,
Oh yes I'll stuff my cookie face,
(He's got a chunky body.)
Stu-stu-stu-stuff my face, stu-stu-stuff my face,
(Nom nom nom nom.)
Stu-stu-stu-stuff my face, stu-stu-stuff my face,
(Nom nom nom nom.)
I won't eat no chocolate brownie,
Or potato smiley,
'Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin,
I'm not lyin', I'm just fussy with my night-time snackin'.
Just like a chick in Anon Alchis,
My addiction causes injuries,
I promise this, promise this,
Leave my tin alone, I'm dangerous.
Unfortunately this isn't the first time I've decided to write new lyrics to a song that hadn't been spoiled for too many people before. The last one was to the tune of that 'Romeo and Juliet' song by the girl that I always call Delta Goodrem in my head despite knowing that they're two completely different people, so I always end up with 'Innocent Eyes' stuck in my head after hearing/thinking about the Romeo and Juliet song.
My version was about a guy in my Guide and Scout student society that came on to every female in the club, and any other club that was unfortunate enough to pitch their tents next to ours at national events, who was nicknamed Romeo by one of the female Sea Scout members. She called him this to his face several times, he took it as a compliment and used it himself. My own experiences with him included one camp where someone decided to take the single-layer tepee as we were a small group so would all fit in together and it was the middle of the summer. Of course, as this particular camp was being hosted in South Wales, it rained. Persistently. So when Romeo and I were the first of our club to arrive back after the first afternoon's activities to find that the rain was coming in, I immediately grabbed the roll of bin bags that I keep in my kit bag for instantaneous waterproofing and started moving all of the kit to the middle of the tent and ripping bin bags to cover everything. In the mean time, Romeo decided to take all of his clothes off and demand a hug. When I said "I don't think that's entirely appropriate." he responded with an indignant "Why not?" to which I replied "Because you're naked." and, luckily, having finished saving the girls' bras and knickers, was able to walk out and find shelter with people wearing more layers.
We then had some problems with his Criminal Records Bureau check not coming back with everyone else's, and a risk that it wouldn't come back in time for a camp where there would be under 18s on site. As I was on the Students' Union's societies' committee as well as the club's committee at the time, I was volunteered to speak to the Societies' Officer about our options, and used this experience to illustrate why we were concerned. Unfortunately the Societies' Officer was about to go on holiday, and had to share the story with the rest of the Sabbatical team, who, along with the Societies' Officer, would become my colleagues after the elections for the following year's Sabbatical Officer team.
A similar thing happened when a student with mental health difficulties took my concern for his welfare as something else, and started showing up at Student Union events I was hosting and waiting outside my office after hours. I mentioned it to a friend who worked in the Union shop, who convinced me to tell a female member of staff in the office in case things escalated. Who said that I needed to tell someone on my Sabbatical team, so as the only female on the team, I just told the Welfare Officer. Who then had to tell the staff member in charge of building security and health and safety. Who then told the President of the Sabbatical Team. Who shouted "That's a threat, that is." Then, the member of staff whose office overlooked the door to my office was told. Then, when she was off work, two members of staff with offices down the corridor were told. Then, when they were also away, the receptionists were told to keep an eye for him entering the building. Then, after each significant 'incident', I was taken to speak to a different person for advice. So last year, when another student with welfare issues took a personal interest in me, sending me love songs, I told the head of the Union's staff team that there may be a potential problem. He was going to include more staff members, but luckily changed his mind when I almost cried at the thought of everyone talking about me again considering the gossip that I was sleeping with a student (who was a friend) had finally died down.
The moral isn't really to not tell people about these things I suppose, since things would have been a heck of a lot worse if I hadn't had people to help me out when he was waiting outside the building for me. However I think I may have to create a Facebook page for a really, really big, tough, scary-looking 'boyfriend', and wear t-shirts with this profile printed on them whenever volunteering/working with men with mental health problems. Although I've met half of my stalkers with mental health problems when not working/volunteering. I would try converting to lesbianism, but pretending to have a girlfriend has only exacerbated problems with unwanted love interests in the past.
If I ever find the song I wrote about Romeo I'll probably post it up here some day.
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