He Needs To Scratch His Nuts, But He's On The Escalator, So There's No Way He Can Do It Now

There's no polite way of saying this:
He needs to scratch his nuts,

But he's trapped on the escalators,
So there's no way he can do it now..

It's one of those really long escalators,
And there's a beautiful woman two steps above him looking down -
Well it would be, wouldn't it?
So there's just no way he can scratch his nuts now..

The itch is on the right-side of his right one.

Driving him to insanity,
Brain-quake silent monk profanity.
Oh the inhumanity of such dead beat urbanity.
Why do gorgeous women always appear when you really don't want them to?

How can I vanish the itch on my right-side baby pomegranate?
I need to banish it with sandpaper and granite!
Why is this escalator so slow?
Maybe as many as fifty more seconds more to go..no..no, no.
Now my itch is morphing into an alien lobster -
Travelling up and tickling my knobster:
It's a fucking imposter!
I need to scatch my nuts. Now!
Forty seconds longer to go.
Forty more seconds of extreme toasted right conker,
And it's driving me fucking bonkers..
She's still looking down:
I'm a woebegoner;
I need to get hands-on the crab-nabbed doner..
Old Macdonald had an itchy doner
ow ow ow ow oh
And he needed an itch grater on the escalator
ow ow ow ow oh..
Ten more seconds to go.. 
Nine,
Eight,
Seven,
Six,
Five
and
a
half..
Five..
Nearly there..
Three,
Four,
I forgot four..
Two..
I mean three..
One!
No two,
One!
Half!
A quarter!
Zero!!

Just walk a few metres,
And past the turnstile,
And..
The itch...
- Gone?!
The cheeky bastard!
It's done one - it's gone!
How dare it do that?
Itch: Come back here right now!Come back!