Don't Get Cocky

As featured in Lucky Bag: The Victoria Wood Song Book, 2nd edition published 1992 by Methuen, ISBN 0-7493-0819-2

This song is from the television sequel to Talent, Nearly a Happy Ending. My character, Maureen, was supposed to have lost three stone at a slimming club and gone out to lose her virginity. I only lost about two stone for the part so we had to do the rest with lots of make-up and a black blazer. The song took place in the Slimming Club, where Maureen is being signed off at target weight (ho ho), and we had a chorus of ladies ranging from the slightly wobbly to the 'Excuse me, who's put a frock on this elephant?' They did a lovely dance routine which was beaten into them by the thinnest choreographer you've ever seen. In fact, you couldn't see her, but you could feel her truncheon.

We congratulate
You on losing weight.
Don't get cocky, baby.
You're going to be back next month.
We'd say six days' grace
Before you stuff your face.
Don't get cocky baby.
You're going to be back next month.

Just take Valerie,
Wouldn't know a calorie

If it came and bit her on the leg.
Starves all day,
And then gives way,
Has eighty bacon butties and a large fried egg.

You don't play hockey, babe.
You do like Choccy, babe,
So don't get cocky, babe.

You're going to be back next month.

Just take Renée,
Fancied a bikini,

Resisted every snack,
Stripped off in the Bahamas,
Has stretch marks like pyjamas,
Grabbed a bar of chocolate and the next flight back.

We don't grudge your fun.
We just know it can't be done.
Spurn the spud or ban the bun,

You're going to be back next month.

Take Fiona,
Twenty-seven stoner,

Slimmed herself to bone and specs.
Husband got conjugal,
Threw away his bugle,
Bought her tiny knickers and demanded sex.

You're a smarty-boots.
We don't give two hoots.
You'll be back in them Crimplene trouser suits

When you waddle back next month.

Just take Heather,
Her jaws were wired together,

An easy slimming method she had heard.
Her husband didn't like her skimpy,
Eloped with Wendy from the Wimpy.
She watched them go and couldn't say a bleeding word.

Don't forget God chose
Those blue eyes, that funny nose.
He made that tissue adipose.

He'll bundle you back next month.

Just take Winnie,
Like a barracks in a pinnie,

Gave up food for Lent.
Her weight loss was fantastic,
But her skin was not elastic.
She's like an inefficient camper in a creased pink tent.

Still, let's not pretend
There's any decent reason why you should attend.
It's the only place you'll find a fatter friend.

You'll have to come back next month.

All right skinny, off you sneak.
You can turn the other cheek,
But it's got you out the bloody house twice a week.

You'll need to come back next month.
She will,
She'll need to come back next month.
Well, this is it,
She'll need to come back next month.

Well, it's the company, basically, isn't it?

© Victoria Wood, 1980