Lyrics:

Re: Our gig at Deptford Abyss
Who the hell does Jeff Dreadnought think he is?
Was he even there? (I ask myself)
Does he even care? (dont kid yourself)
Wait til our PR men hear of this

Its a bad review, we got a bad review &oh Lord
Its a bad review  wotta we gonna do? &oh Lord
I cant walk down the street cos other groups I might meet, and theyll smirk
Oh, its a rum old do, is a bad review &oh Lord
And my girlfriends fuming

You hacks dont know where its at
You cant appreciate the master of the Strat
Not that Im concerned (course youre not)
Your papers full of crap (course it is)
I only read the gig guide anyway

Its a bad review, a b-b-b-bad review &oh Lord
We got a bad review, I cant believe its true &oh Lord
Well I know what you look like, so dont ever come near Stroud,
Page 32, its a bad review &oh Lord
My girlfriends fuming

OK  lets go to chapel

Oo-oo  whats to do? Its a bad review
Oo-oo  whats to do? Its a bad review

The fearsome hollow boom of the older boys in the deep end
The green shoots of recovery shrivelled up in harsh tomorrows
Left to pick dry sticks and mumble to myself
A melancholy emblem of parish cruelty