Listelss. A rap.

How the blazes it came to this no-one quite knows – but in a development which will have my former philosophy tutor at Cambridge spluttering over her Wittgenstein essays in disgust, I have penned my first rap.

Actually, the question of how the blazes this came about can be answered immediately, and with greater ease than had previously been suggested. An associate, on reading my critique of D. Rascal's Bonkers, had suggested that I did the man a disservice, in chiding him for lack of depth in his lyrics. 'Twas a social commentary, and examination of the human condition, he argued. Specifically, he claimed, Bonkers is about listlessness, disaffection and the negative preoccupations of the subject of his verse.

In my capacity as The Most Gullible Person I Know, I must admit to being a little unsure of the sincerity of these comments. I listened again to Bonkers – always a pleasure, never a chore - and while the lyrics could certainly be construed as interpretations of the themes suggested, I would hardly compare them to Wilde in terms of intelligence, variety and general exploration of the richness of language. They rhyme, and they're catchy, but I've heard better rap (from Mr Rascal himself, I might add).

However, I am inclined to think 'tis wrong to judge a man until one has walked a mile in his shoes. I therefore endeavoured to write my own rap about listlessness and disaffection.

I should point out that it works rather better if heard, rather than read, and would also certainly benefit from some sort of melodious background accompaniment. Be that as it may, do please go right ahead and knock yourself out, with Listless.

I'm so full of talent, got so many skills
Hold tight, or your legs give way at my skills
I can click with my left, do fifty-six sit-ups
These just some my skills, y'all playing catch-up
Skills, mad skills, talent, flair, gift, skills
Donde mate, just a shame I'm so listless

I'm listless mate, and it's not my fault
Everything takes effort, which I don't got
It's not fair boss, no-one works to support me
Don't give money, cars, girls, won't do anything for me
I got so many talents no-one else should survive
But I'm listless mate, so y'all be deprived

Check out my skills mate, I can make pasta
Get the sauce from a jar, and believe, it's top pasta
Nutritious, delicious, and not too firm blud
Done eight minutes flat, only needs hot water
I'm so slick it's unfair, go warn your peoples
Donde mate, just a shame I'm so listless

I'm listless mate, and it's not my fault
Everything takes effort, which I don't got
It's not fair boss, no-one works to support me
Don't give money, cars, girls, won't do anything for me
I got so many talents no-one else should survive
But I'm listless mate, so y'all be deprived

And yes yes mate, watch me make paper-planes
There's gold in these fingers when I make paper planes
I'm all over the folds, flaps, wings, tip, nose
Check out the creases, watch my talent you knows it
Sometimes they die – true – but sometimes they fly – yes
Donde mate, just a shame I'm so listless.

I'm listless mate, and it's not my fault
Everything takes effort, which I don't got
It's not fair boss, no-one works to support me
Don't give money, cars, girls, won't do anything for me
I got so many talents no-one else should survive
But I'm listless mate, so y'all be deprived