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As the temperature drops on the drunks out in Clapham I turn on my box and it's like punk never happened The community's charged up and the West End's alight And it's Jimmy Bloody Tarbuck on a Saturday night And I'm sick to the back teeth, frony teeth and tonsils Of hit making factories and kids niffing Ronseal The run down, the hard up and the national health And it's Jimmy Bloody Tarburbuck on a Sunday as well Friends, Romans, country fans If you're happpy and you know it You can clap your hands and say yeah! Yes sir no sir three bags full of newspaper Sleeping by the greengrocers over by the undertakers Died in a house fire mummy was at the bakers Buying broken biscuits, digestives and iced wafers I've broken my dentures, got senile dementure And I'm losing my barnet I'm an alternative Alf Garnett From Letras Mania