Louie Spence

I’ve seen an apple turnover; I’ve seen an Orange squash,

But to see a pineapple dancing, is really Oh. My. Gosh.

Louie Spence, the dancing fruit, he spins and he sashays,

He’s pirouetted into place as Britain’s favourite gay.

He’s camper than a row of tents, his dance moves over zealous,

He’s left other gay celebrities feeling deathly jealous.

Which famous gay will kill Louie, give him his final breath?

It’s thought that John Barrowman will jazz hands him to death.

It seems like that wont stop him, Louie’s fame will thrive,

So George Michaels gonna pick him up and take him for a drive.

But Louie will not fall for that, he’s quite a clever smarty,

Michael Barrymore will have him round for one of his pool parties.

It’s said that Boy George would do the job, there’s just one tiny snag,

The police can tell his whereabouts from his electronic tag.

Someone’s gotta step it up, put Louie 6 foot beneath,

There gonna try and slash his throat with Alan Carr’s huge teeth.

They have to end his gallant reign; it’s time for his good bye,

There gonna bore poor Louie to death by getting Stephen Fry.

Dale Wintons got a Temple of Doom, he will release those balls,

He’ll put Louie in a hole in the ground, or perhaps just a hole in the wall.

It’s time to get the big guns out, to ensure that Louie’s gone,

They’ll hissy fit him to death by getting Elton John.

Thus they’ll succeed in Louie’s death, and we’ll all miss him greatly,

He’s gone to the great G-A-Y up in the sky, to dance with Stephen Gately.

So we can only speculate who next will take the throne?

Perhaps Britain’s biggest closet case, Louie Walsh or Andrew Stone.