*Trumpet solo* There's a big group of lads at the bar They've got Ralph Lauren shirts on and gel in their hair The fruit machines rigged so it never gives out A pint of John Smith's is less than a pound And it's beer and a burger for dinner again With all of the pubs on the high street the same With laminated menus and terrible music Really bright lights and some puke in the toilets Another nameless, faceless town Another Friday night Let's hope that some of these lads get laid Before they start getting into fights It's all good though, it's all gravy This is Middle England baby *Trumpet solo* And the roundabouts circle the towns The carpet got swept and the factory closed down No-one remembers the town they once knew And all arrows point to the next Wetherspoons Where we drink away our sorrows with smiles on our faces I know this cause I've been there, I'm a fan of getting wasted Makes me feel good, drives me crazy This is Middle England baby *Trumpet solo* Makes me feel good, drives me crazy This is Middle England baby