chancers on the wind

Elton John was tootling infernally on the television.
"I wonder which candle on the wind he's immortalising tonight," sez I darkly.
"What are you on about?" demanded the Mammy.
I jabbed an accusatory finger at the television.
"Your man," sez I. "He wrote a song about Marilyn Monroe. And then when Princess Diana died he didn't write a new song. Oh no. He just scrubbed out Marilyn's name and inserted Diana's. Real class."
The Mammy snorted in a manner not entirely indicative of respect for my analysis of Mr John's creative integrity.
"Sure you do that all the time," quoth she.
"When do I do it?" I shot back.
"In your poems," sez she. "You know the ones where you put in different girls' names. You even call them Insert Name Of Girl poems."
I was silent for a moment.
I was struggling to formulate an argument along the lines that Insert Name Of Girl poems are a respected literary genre.
"Touché Lil," I said finally.
There was nothing else to say.