I slipped
I tripped
Walked into lamp-posts, whilst waving my goodbyes
They called me the man of a thousand claims, or ' Pop-out Pound-sign Eyes '
I could smell the waft of compensation, it's true I tell no lies
Quicker than a summertime dog-poo is detected by the flies

So the authorities decided I was a detriment to society
A bastion of dishonesty, the Don of impropriety
One day they brought my latest cheque, I answered the door enraptured
A stun-gun caught me unawares, at last I had been captured

They asked me the question hypothetically
" Do you object to being iced cryogenically? "
Before I could answer, they were strapping my knees
And my body was plunged into deep freeze

Twelve years later

" Awake! " they cried, and suddenly... everything had changed
Whilst I'd spent my time with frozen peas, the world had gone deranged
They thawed me out, and told me that Disclaimers were now king
No longer could I bang my head and shout out loud " Kerching! "

My food was all in liquid form
So it couldn't stick in my throat
They fitted seat-belts on my armchair
And installed a parachute in my coat
Wet floor signs on the motorway
Caterpillar tracks on my shoes
Seems I'll have to earn an honest wage
I've got the Post-claim-era blues