Half Man Half Biscuit - A Country Practice Lyrics
I feel like a beggar accepting almsThen being pelted with figsI study my steadily declining chart placingsThey greet me with freezing cold inhospitalityHey, where did that bloke go who said I was vital? I possess the mild air of a retail tobacconistThat's because I'm a retail tobacconistBut the mayflies on a Berkshire trout riverWould probably tell you a different storyAbout ham-fisted diadems and momentary daydreamsOf mythical dividends and illusory boardroom suitsIn the room festooned with fat beef certificates From county showsDuff leg Bryn had drank too much againMost of Wem was steering clear of himI've got no time for this 12th consecutive Rose BowlCos at Sunday next at ten to fourI've got an invitation forA trip around Katharine Hamnett's warehouseFollowed by dinner with David EmmanuelWhom I can't wait to tell about my dreamIn which the almost illegal Elton Welsby Is dressed as a French maid on a moonless bywayLicking his lips as he creeps ever closerFast falls the eventideFast falls the eventideThe public appearance of bitter ex-soap starsWho thought they could go on and do other things besideThe Centre Court amusement at the ballboy's mishapThat bobbing up and down thing that they do at the PromsOpinionated weather forecasters telling me it's going to be a miserable dayMiserable to who? I quite like a bit of drizzle so stick to the factsChannel 4 presents "Blowjob" Introduced by Adrian and Sophie HornWho is of course one bloke with a pierced dickWho's just had the nod from Planet 24Hear him say "surreal, bizarre, sad git"Yes indeedy, completely and utterly footy anorak and respectBefore whipping the audience up into doing the Time WarpWatch him take us live to "The Queen's Arse and Firkin"Where Joseph Bloggs and his amazing Technicolour shellsuitAre about to abort their Steely Dan routineAnd instead embark upon 15 minutes of mantra-filled Oompah15 minutes of mantra-filled Oompah15 minutes of mantra-filled OompahAdrian / Sophie wants us, the viewers, to ring inAnd say how we think the punters will react(These are a few of my favourite things)I'm incredibly bored with the word "millennium"And with the Jehovah's WitnessesMillions now earmarked will later be wastedHer Majesty, marvellous, mother the musicalThe fireworks lighting up the Houses of ParliamentDeath in Trafalgar Square, death in the armchairOf clichéd old spinsters who never been lovedEvery day is Australia day"Sons and Daughters" and "Home and Away"But then the news comes on and the sound goes downCos she can't be bothered with all them politiciansThey're all just a bunch of flamin' drongosShe died with her telly on, 87 and confusedWith not enough hospital beds cos all the money's been usedOn the end of the century party preparationsAnd they reckon that the last thing she saw in her life wasSting, singing on the roof of the BarbicanSting, singing on the roof of the BarbicanT for ToxtethT for TennesseeT for Toxteth, T for TennesseeT for Thatcher, that girl that made a wreck out of meOld lady labelled me an idleOld lady labelled me an idleOld lady labelled me an idle layaboutLayaboutLayabout
