I’d Do Anything

Here’s my version of I’d do Anything from the musical Oliver. It came from nowhere this evening and is presented here (almost) verbatim:

“I’d do anything for fucking mums, bitches and dog poo tits.

I’d do anything for a caged monkey in Peru.

I’d do anything for one last chance at Scrabble.

I’d do anything for Michael Jackson’s mum to raise me up.

I’d do anything for Daz to really work.

I’d do anything for one basic human right to be over.

I’d do anything for toes made of butter.

I’d do anything for you Christmas pie.

I’d do anything for you Barbara Windsor.

I’d do anything for one night with David Dimbleby.

Yes, I’d do anything for you piss head. Fuck off.

I’d climb a tree, paint your bumble bee (with ink made of tortoise spit).

Would you climb a tree?

No.

Paint your face bright blue?

Maybe, maybe not.

Visit China?

Maybe.

Visit Dagenham?

No.

I’d do anything for you, piss head, piss head, piss head.

I’d climb a tree with my legs tied together, but not marry David Blunkett.

I’d do one thing now, and one thing later.

I’d do anything for larger breasts made of syrup.

Don’t talk about syrup tits.

I’d do anything.

Anything?

Anything.

For one night of satisfaction with a revolver.

Put it on my tab.

I’d do anything except elongate my body.

I’d do anything for an imagination.

Would you climb Taylor Swift’s underwear?

Talk to a Brazilian in Chinese?

I’d do anything for you to talk about fish.

I’d do a little bit for you dear, a little bit.

Anything for you!”

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