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