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pam - victoria wood lyrics

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can i tell you who i am?
i’m pamela patricia, but they call me pam.
i don’t like shorts, or sling back shoes.
my only pair of trousers are my gardening trews.

i don’t say “who”. i do say “whom”.
i never use the toilet, just the smallest room.
i don’t say gay. i still say queer.
i think that mussolini had the right idea.

got engaged in sixty-two,
got married in the april in a nice pale blue.
it all turned sour to say the least.
i was stuck in abergele with a s-x crazed beast.

our wedding night, i heard a cough.
there was harold in the doorway with his jamas off.
i said, “now look, i must be blunt.
i couldn’t give a begger on the whole s-x front.

not me, not my scene.
i prefer a game of rummy and an ovaltine.
harold dear, now do get dressed.
i’ve seen one in a book and i was not impressed

once divorced, i lived alone,
then i chummed up with a woman by the name of joan.
she moved in. she seemed quite nice,
wore army boots and braces, but i didn’t think twice.

then one night she seemed upset.
i said, “are you not happy in my maisonette?”
she drained her rum and babycham,
ran here fingers through her crewcut, said, “i love
you, pam.”

i didn’t faint. i didn’t scream,
just carried on demolishing my custard cream.
she said, “please come upstairs with me.
let me show you just how wonderful a love can be.”

i said, “all right, but don’t be late.
there’s a thing by alan bennett on at half past eight.”
so up we go, and off she went.
but all i seemed to think about was stoke on trent.

not me, it didn’t jell.
i prefer a cup of cocoa and a ruth rendell.
joan dear, do get dressed.
no woman over forty suits a mauve string vest

then last year, to beat the blues,
i booked myself a cabin on a ten-day cruise,
so much to do, so much to see,
with a load of single women who looked just like me.

then one night i clicked like that
with a bachelor called billy in a golfing hat.
we were so happy hand in hand
listening to a lecture on the prostate gland.

i told him s-x had been no go.
he took it as a challenge and we went below.
we kissed and hugged without delay.
he tried to take my rain hood off. i said, no way.

he said i bet you ten whole pounds
i bet you have an -rg-sm while i’m around.
he got stuck in. he really tried,
but i only felt a tremor down my left hand side

not me. that’s my boast.
i prefer a bit of ironing and a slice of toast.
“bill dear, do get dressed,”
but he just fell over moaning as he clutched his chest.

he went “ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”
well, it was that kind of sound.

bill was dead. he’d died for me.
they took him on a stretcher as i drank my tea,
but as i poured another cup,
i thought, i never had an -rg-sm, i’m ten quid up.

- victoria wood lyrics

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