My husband’s infidelity,

Brought out the crafty witch in me.

He left me for some younger twit,

With a taut tum and gorgeous tits.

He told me,” Laura, I must be true,

I met a girl, younger than you.

She does things you wouldn’t believe,

With the sexy tricks tucked up her sleeve!”

 

“You and me don’t have enough sex,

I’m moving on, end of subject.

I’ll have my lawyer draw up papers

For the divorce, talk to you later.”

 

He left me there, sipping Chablis,

Forty-years old, suddenly free.

I told myself, “Laura ma chère,

Revenge is sweet, Gianni beware!”

 

I’m an interior decorator,

So changed our flat’s minimalist flavour,

To something vulgar, gaudy, crass.

Oh mon Dieu, I had a blast!

 

I glued a duck-poo green vile carpet,

To the gorgeous antique parquet!

With those swirls of orange in it,

It made you feel a little seasick.

 

With the bathroom I got bold,

The heirloom bath and sink I sold.

Replaced them with orange crap,

Dirt cheap from Conforama!

 

I had all our lovely furniture,

Stored in a massive container.

A plastic couch I went and bought,

In black and gold, the very worst!

 

And wait, the bed, so fantastique!

You’ve never seen something so kitsch!

With zebra sheets in polyester,

That bed is certain to impress her!

 

The static electricity will zap,

Any writhing in the sack.

The built-in radio played shortwave,

The crackle itself was “le bouquet”!

 

I sold all the crockery,

Replaced it with pink melamine.

The fireplace ledge, just wait for this!

I covered with synthetic lace!

 

Black velvet posters in DayGlo,

Adorned the walls of the palazzo.

Blue porcelain horses, a golden clock,

I left a note, he’d have a shock.

 

And then I packed my Vuitton cases,

Rode a cab to the Six Senses.

I’m so proud of this great job,

I did for Gianni and his salope!

 

Now I’m here in Ibiza,

With my friends Celeste and Gemma.

This summer’s about to get très juicy,

So grab the book Just Like A Movie!