Lyrics:

[No I have no ambition to continue on in that field
But I couldn't care less
I just get off what I do
And I do it very well
Thank you, I know
This is why I'm not tolerated
I can't be bothered to tell a lie
There has been something as revolutionary as the Sex Pistols: the ongoing force of ME
And this is something you cannot forget]

Toilet, Toilet

I was wanking her off the other day
And she's pulling a really strange face
These things happen in situations like this, so I carried on
Made her cum all over the place
Then she tells me, that she was imagining me to be a complete stranger
Well thanks a fucking lot, nice one, lovely
Next time then darling
I'll tip up to yours, wearing a mask and postmans uniform
Leave the door unlocked
Just bend over
And I'll shove it up your arse
Throw a few letters on the floor
Just for added effect
Bob's your uncle, theres your random sex
Seven knackered fridges dumped on a piece of wasteland
Next to a house thats burning bridges, with all its neighbours
Twenty-five kids sharing two rooms, ASDA Smart Price
The bus stop's a youth club
Soveriegn cigarettes and mushrooms

Well what are you saying bro?
Would you like a drink? I'll go!
I hear you're the toast of the town
Can I kiss your arsehole?
You don't tell my bird you wanna fuck her
You fucking leave it Michael
You don't say nothing
Sexual encounters like that take a while
Shes gotta get her head round the fact that you're a fat bastard with ginger hair
That's no offence to people with ginger hair
But I wouldn't want it
I'm sick of being talked down to
By desperate blokes in maharishi smoke pants
That shit went down in Scaramanga
We salute you!


Well what are you saying bro?
Would you like a drink? I'll go!
I hear you're the toast of the town
Can I kiss your arsehole?
Another do
I've been invited to that many do's over the last six months
By people who didn't want to know me eight months ago
Makes you sick
I wouldn't mind
But 98% of the music in this city is fucking shit
Armitage shanks, a toilet fucking culture
And if you're not getting your arse shagged
Then you're the phanton bummer
You've heard it all before
You're gonna hear it all again
Well what do you think I'm gonna sing about
My endless love?
You fucking freak

I'd rather die in the gutter darling forget about it
What d'you do man?
When you're on your last legs
And you ain't got a plan
Your sheets are all covered in blood stains
Bruises on your thighs
Shagging the right bird
Your beds surrounded by beer cans
And empty chisel bags
Knangled by your teeth trying to get at the fucking rock that's melting underneath
I'm a vampire
I've got homemade fangs
I make Shane Macgowan look like cross between Joe Collins and Karl Lagerfield
With his fan
Messy fucker, messy fucker
That stained your life
It's upstated mine
I've got oil on my ladder
It's on there all the time

{​​What about Wayne Fontana? he did it..}​​

Living off your wits is just a toilet seat