When I go out with all my mates 
In Manchester at night,
I knock back ten pints of lager, 
So I get rather tight.

We don't make troubles in the clubs
'Cause they've got bouncers there,
But when we're in the streets again
We let down our hair.

We like to vandalize a bit,
Smash everything we pass,
'Cause there's no sweeter sound for us
Than that of breaking glass.

Telephone boxes, bus shelters, 
The windows of the shops - 
They are all such easy targets,
And there's no problem with the cops.

There is no point in arresting us - 
Too many forms to fill - 
So it's just: "Turn a blind eye, chaps,
Insurance will foot the bill!"

Some no-brain came up with a scheme
To fine us on the spot;
His notion that we'd pay up proves
He's really lost the plot.

I'm glad I live in civilized times
With all my human rights,
And not in some barbaric age
With funless sober nights.

So, all you progressive thinkers,
Thank you for your support!
You can't begin to know what joy
To lads like me you've brought.

Grasmere, 2004