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