(intro ) Re Our gig at Deptford Abyss Who the hell does Jeff Dreadnought think he is? Was he even there? - I ask myself, does he even care? - don't kid yourself Wait 'till our PR men hear of this. It's a bad review; we got a bad review, oh ha It's a bad review, what are we gonna do? Oh ha I can't walk down the street 'cos other groups I might meet and they'll smirk Oh, it's a rum old do is a bad review, oh Lord An' my girlfriend's fuming. You hacks don't know where it's at; You can't appreciate the master of the Strat Not that I'm concerned - 'course you're not, your paper's full of crap 'Course it is, I only read the gig guide anyway. It's A bad review, -bad review, oh ha We got a bad review, I can't believe it's true, oh Lord Well I know what you look like so don't ever come near Stroud Page thirty-two, it's a bad review, oh Lord My girlfriend's fuming. ) OK, let's go to chapel. Oo-oo what's to do? It's a bad review Oo-oo what's to do? It's a bad review The fearsome hollow boom of the older boys in the deep end Green shoots of recovery shrivelled up in harsh tomorrows Left to pick dry sticks and mumble to myself A melancholy emblem of parish cruelty. Oo-oo what's to do? It's a bad review Oo-oo what's to do? It's a bad review Bad review, bad review, bad review, bad review.