Lyrics:

Piling in the back seat, party on in Duke Street,
Carry on, and turn right, we're all tanked up.

Knocking on the door, like,
Didn't have an invite,
His face didn't look right
So we beat him up.

Eh Up! Let's sup! Where's the fucking ale, lads?
Sirens go, Plod pulls up, Stez is in the garden puking up.

By god, you should have seen us
Fifty pints between us,
Beater had a flabby penis
He's all tanked up.