Love on Ice - Momus

We’re all cuddles and smiles

At the press photocall

Though you hate to touch me

And I couldn’t love you at all

Because I’m not an ordinary guy

And you’re not an ordinary girl

But that’s how we have to appear now we’re

The best in the world

And The Sun is uncharacteristically wise

When it captions the photograph

'Love on ice'

Love on ice

One perfect couple on four perfect blades

We execute two perfect figures of eight

We accept the bouquets but we’d just like to say

Before these flowers wither like all accolades

I’m only doing this for Christopher

And you’re only doing it for Jane

In the Radio Times and on breakfast TV

Our faces appear because young healthy faces

Are what the world’s dying to see

In an advert promoting a diet

We skate to a halt and say 'Try it!'

But how could a straight have a figure or skate

Without my anxiety?

And the caption they use in the Radio Times

And over their products is

'Love on ice'

Love on ice

One perfect couple on four perfect blades

We execute two perfect figures of eight

We accept the bouquets but we’d just like to say

Before these flowers wither like all accolades

We want to come out of the closet

We’d give up the life of the stars

If Christopher wasn’t our manager

And Jane didn’t do our cocaine and our PR

It began to go wrong

But the press wouldn’t leave us alone

We lost to a couple of Soviets who skated like robots

And when we came home

The tabloids said I’d died of AIDS

And you’d set up camp with the Greenham Brigades

And the serious papers we offered our story said 'Sorry'

And slammed down the phone

But in City Limits they mentioned us twice

In a feature and letter they titled respectively

'Love on ice' and 'Gay love on Ice'

One perfect couple on four perfect blades

We execute two perfect figures of eight

But the ice is a mirror in which people see

Their nation and their sexuality

And now we’ve come out of the closet

No-one remembers our names

And Christopher isn’t our manager

And we need the PR more than Jane needs our cocaine