D  Bm  D  Bm


[Verse 1]

  D                            Bm   D                       Bm
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,
     D                           Bm                D  Bm 
Hey, where did that bloke go who said I was vital?
  D                         Bm                 D                     Bm
I possess the mild air of a retail tobacconist, that’s because I’m a retail tobacconist
        D             Bm                          D                   Bm
But the mayflies on a Berkshire trout river would probably tell you a different story
      D                      Bm
About ham-fisted diadems and momentary daydreams
   D                      Bm
Of mythical dividends and illusory boardroom seats.


[Instrumental]

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[Verse 2]

       D                   Bm                    D                Bm
In the room festooned with fat beef certificates from county shows
D                 Bm                    D               Bm
Duff Leg Bryn had drank too much again, most of Wem was steering clear of him
D                           Bm                  D         Bm
 “I’ve got no time for this twelfth consecutive Rose Bowl”
        D              Bm               D          Bm
‘Cos on Sunday next at ten to four I’ve got an invitation for
  D                   Bm                   D                       Bm
A trip round Kathrine Hamnett’s warehouse, followed by dinner with David Emanuel
      D                           Bm                 D              Bm
Who I can’t wait to tell about my dream in which the almost illegal Elton Welsby
   D                             Bm              D                      Bm
Is dressed as a French maid on a moonless byway, licking his lips as he creeps ever closer
D              Bm        D              Bm
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
    D                               Bm                  D  Bm
Who thought they could go on and do other things besides
    D                             Bm
The Centre Court amusement at the ballboy’s mishap
     D                                   Bm
That bobbing up and down thing that they do at the Proms
 D                              Bm                            D
Opinionated weather forecasters telling me it’s going to be a miserable day
Bm                        D                         Bm
Miserable to who? I quite like a bit of drizzle, so stick to the facts.


[Instrumental]

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[Verse 4]

Em                            D               Em                    D
Channel Four presents “Blowjob” introduced by Adrian and Sophie Horn
                                  Em                              D                  Em D
Who is of course one bloke with a pierced dick who’s just had the nod from Planet 24.
Em                       D               Em              D
Hear him say “surreal, bizarre, sad git, yes indeedy, completely and utterly
       Em                 D                             Em                           D
Footy, anorak and respect” before whipping the audience up into doing the Time Warp.
Em                             D
Watch him take us live to “The Queen’s Arse and Firkin”
      Em                            D
Where Joseph Bloggs And His Amazing Technicolor Shellsuit
    Em                          D
Are about to abort their Steely Dan routine
            Em                             D                    Em D
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.

Em                   D                               Em
Adrian stroke Sophie wants us, the viewers to ring in
                         D
And say how we think the punters will react.
Em                    D                Em
These are a few of my favourite things.


[Instrumental]

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[Verse 5]

    D                         Bm
I’m incredibly bored with the word “millennium”
D                             Bm
 I’m with the Jehovah’s Witnesses.
D                           Bm
Millions now earmarked will later be wasted
    D                    Bm
Her Majesty, marvellous, Mother – The Musical.
    D                         Bm
The fireworks lighting up the Houses of Parliament
D                          Bm
Death in Trafalgar Square, death in the armchair
   D                            Bm
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”
             D                     Bm
And then the news comes on and the sound goes down
         D                      Bm
‘Cos she can’t be bothered with all them politicians
        D                           Bm       D Bm
They’re all just a bunch of flaming drongo’s.

    D                              Bm
She died with her telly on, eighty-seven and confused
     D                                     Bm
With not enough hospital beds ‘cos all the money’s been used
       D                  Bm
On the end of the century party preparations
         D                              Bm
And they reckon that the last thing she saw in her life was
D                    Bm                    D                    Bm
Sting singing on the roof of the Barbican, Sting singing on the roof of the Barbican.


[Instrumental]

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[Outro]

E                               A                          E
T for Toxteth, T for Tennessee; T for Toxteth, T for Tennessee
B7                                                 E
T for Thatcher, that girl hath made a wreck out of me.
                  B7              E             B7
Old lady labelled me an idle, old lady labelled me an idle
    E             B7             E    A      E    A      E     A  E
Old lady labelled me an idle layabout.   Layabout.   Layabout.