Lyrics:

I fancy I'll open a stationer's
Stock quaint notepads for weekend Pagans
While you were out at The Rollright Stones
I came and set fire to your shed
'Cos you probably work at an all-night garage
You probably work at an all-night garage
You probably work at an all-night garage
With Talk Radio on

And you curse my soul if I don't want petrol
Curse my soul 'cos I don't want petrol
I only came down for a tube of Pringles
&Sour Cream and Chives

Because you gotta get up off your fat arse to go and get my crisps and you gotta go around the counter and it's really inconvenient; and when you come back, you toss them into that sliding metal tray device thing that separates us and you say: "One pound thirty-five", as opposed to: "That'll be one pound thirty-five please, sir". This is of course done to annoy me but has the opposite effect of amusing me no end, because suddenly I've got other things to buy&

"I'll have two Scotch eggs and a jar of Marmite,
Two Scotch eggs and a jar of Marmite
Two Scotch eggs and a jar of Marmite
&what sandwiches have you got?"

Well now you become quite irate and your voice becomes louder, and you start to sound like Leadbelly at the Depot&

"I got ham, I got cheese, I got chicken, I got beef,
I got tuna-sweetcorn; I've got tuna-sweetcorn&"

"I'll have ten Kit-Kats and a motoring atlas
Ten Kit-Kats and a motoring atlas
And a blues CD on the Hallmark label
 that's sure to be good"

Oh he went to play golf on a Sunday morn' just a mile and a half from town
His head was found on the driving range and his body has never been found