Swearin' Lord Chiltern

So what am I? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, the second coming? I don’t need this shit. I’m flesh ’n blood like you. No matter how much you think I get stuff right, or I’m perfect and all that shit, I still have to take a dump after I eat, y’know? Yes, I fucked up. Guys fuck up, too! Should everything go to hell because of one fuck-up? ’Cause my life’s over. I ain’t worth shit now. But what I don’t get is what makes you so damn special that you can screw up and get away with it. If I’m the better man, shouldn’t I get it easier? Put up with less crap, not more? It ain’t no blessing – it’s a downright butt-fuck, that’s for sure. Don’t envy me, ’cause I envy you. All you bitches who don’t have to put up with reputation and all that shit. You broads got it all wrong: strong sex, weak sex, bullshit! All for the birds! You hit a guy in here [taps the left side of his chest], it’s the same as hittin’ him here [holds his scrotum]. So take your admiration, your awe, and shove it up your ass! ’Cause I don’t want a fan, or a fuckin’ follower. I want a companion, cut from the same cloth as me. I want love, is all, and to hell with the rest.