It’s popped, the collar on my tight polo shirt
My bootcut G-Stars flow over my moccasins
Minus three but jackets are as gay as ice cream
Me and the lads cross streams behind some Biffa bins
But this pub and that pub have options of vegan grub
Ask for a steak these days all you get is arrested
This place looks like a Spoons so why are my nephews drinking in here
And now starting to block the entrance
We’re just here for lager, Stereophonics and mince
Let shoot some truth straight from the dick
Yer weans look like ham orcs
And your wife resents you for that
Let me shoot some truth straight from the dick
The queen’s no gonnae shag ye
But the Bullingdon boys will make sure you’re fucked
We end up in a Topolabamba what the fuck?
They serve lager, the food’s great but I still convince the lads I think it’s foreign muck
They can’t know, they mustn’t know, they will never know
That I never enjoyed Roy Chubby Brown’s UFO
My dinner’s on the pavement, the polis are taking statements
From the guy I smacked but I made tracks ‘cause of four prior abatements
It’s chippy time for us, we cross streams on the bus
We sing land of hope and glory but they don’t know the words
We’re all about to part ways but Tam’s no had his day till he’s slapped us wae his dick
But in a straight way
I sit alone at a swing park the WhatsApp my wife sent suggested she’ll be up for three hours more
Interacting with my family is a great chore
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