These scenes sound like a nightmare ...

Tune: The Nightmare Song, from Iolanthe by Gilbert and Sullivan (more or less)

Granny's Nightmare Song

When you've been to the shops to buy kidneys and chops, and to stock up on beer and tobacco
And the checkout queue's long, with the usual throng, and the Austrian nude shoppers look wacko
When your bags are all packed, and you feel really whacked, as you look for your car for a minute
What you spy makes you think that you're worse for the drink, for there's four hunky fellows sat in it
So you reach for your gun, which you wave, and they run, and you load the stuff in slow and silent
Then you put in the key, it won't turn, deary me, you get out, and the number is different
So it's out of the car, and it's not very far till you spot your own car quietly standing
And you feel such a fool (which you don't as a rule), and 'what's next to do?' you're demanding
So it's down to the nick, making time double quick to confess to the cops all your folly
And the four hunks are there, as you sit in the chair, and the sergeant thinks this is so jolly
Still he mutters 'no charge', as relief this is large, so you're free to go back to your motor
But a squad car sits there, and you think it is fair that to drive off in that's what you ought'ter
So the siren blares loud as you drive through the crowd, you decide that you're neighbourhood watching
Search for robbers and thieves and don't give them reprieves, for the lot you sure want to be catching
And you break up a fight between bunnies, that's right and it doesn't seem odd when you do it
And a garden gnome stealer is there with his dealer, another one caught who will rue it
Then you're called to a crime which seems right at the time about beer and a traffic controller
But a munchkin that swings by his neck loudly sings that you're car has become a hot roller
Then the car's a PC that's possessed, as you see, by some newfangled devilish virus
But St Pat's eating beef, so he gives no relief, we need something new to inspire us
Maybe birds that don't sing when they're up on the wing
Or cocks with no head who'd be better off dead
Or a startled old moose who kicks cars on the loose
Or some boring old men watching sap now and then
Or a Mardi parade where your underwear's laid
Or Twinkies you like when the maker's on strike
Or songs about food, for these always sound good
Or tiples, or possums, or taverns with Jello or wondering where it's all at
Are you mad or insane? Is it all in the brain? Or a regular day at the Mudcat