Intro verse 1 I feel like a beggar accepting alms, then being pelted with figs. I study my steadily declining chart placings; they greet me with freezing cold inhospitality, Hey, where did that bloke go who said I was vital? I possess the mild air of a retail tobacconist, that’s because I’m a retail tobacconist But the mayflies on a Berkshire trout river would probably tell you a different story About ham-fisted diadems and momentary daydreams Of mythical dividends and illusory boardroom seats. Instrumental verse 2 In the room festooned with fat beef certificates from county shows Duff Leg Bryn had drank too much again, most of Wem was steering clear of him “I’ve got no time for this twelfth consecutive Rose Bowl” ‘Cos on Sunday next at ten to four I’ve got an invitation for A trip round Kathrine Hamnett’s warehouse, followed by dinner with David Emanuel Who I can’t wait to tell about my dream in which the almost illegal Elton Welsby Is dressed as a French maid on a moonless byway, licking his lips as he creeps ever closer Fast falls the eventide, fast falls the eventide. Instrumental verse 3 The public appearance of bitter ex-soap stars Who thought they could go on and do other things besides The Centre Court amusement at the ballboy’s mishap That bobbing up and down thing that they do at the Proms Opinionated weather forecasters telling me it’s going to be a miserable day Miserable to who? I quite like a bit of drizzle, so stick to the facts. Instrumental verse 4 Channel Four presents “Blowjob” introduced by Adrian and Sophie Horn Who is of course one bloke with a pierced dick who’s just had the nod from Planet 24. Hear him say “surreal, bizarre, sad git, yes indeedy, completely and utterly Footy, anorak and respect” before whipping the audience up into doing the Time Warp. Watch him take us live to “The Queen’s Arse and Firkin” Where Joseph Bloggs And His Amazing Technicolor Shellsuit Are about to abort their Steely Dan routine And instead embark upon fifteen minutes of mantra-filled oompah. Bridge N.C. Fifteen minutes of mantra-filled oompah. N.C. Fifteen minutes of mantra-filled oompah. Adrian stroke Sophie wants us, the viewers to ring in And say how we think the punters will react. These are a few of my favourite things. Instrumental Verse 5 I’m incredibly bored with the word “millennium” I’m with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Millions now earmarked will later be wasted Her Majesty, marvellous, Mother – The Musical. The fireworks lighting up the Houses of Parliament Death in Trafalgar Square, death in the armchair Of clichéd old spinsters who’ve never been loved. Verse 6 Every day is Australia Day, “Sons and Daughters” and “Home and Away” And then the news comes on and the sound goes down ‘Cos she can’t be bothered with all them politicians They’re all just a bunch of flaming drongo’s. She died with her telly on, eighty-seven and confused With not enough hospital beds ‘cos all the money’s been used On the end of the century party preparations And they reckon that the last thing she saw in her life was Sting singing on the roof of the Barbican, Sting singing on the roof of the Barbican. Instrumental Outro T for Toxteth, T for Tennessee; T for Toxteth, T for Tennessee T for Thatcher, that girl hath made a wreck out of me. Old lady labelled me an idle, old lady labelled me an idle Old lady labelled me an idle layabout. Layabout. Layabout.