Twenty-Four Hour Garage People

I fancy I'll open a stationer's
Stock quaint notepads for weekend pagans
While you were out at the Rollright Stones
I came and set fire to your shed.

‘Coz you probably work at an all-night garage
You probably work at an all-night garage
You probably work at an all-night garage
With talk radio on.

And you curse my soul if I don't want petrol
Curse my soul ‘coz I don't want petrol
I only came down for a tube of Pringles
Sour Cream and Chives.

And because you've got to get up off your fat arse to go and get my crisps
And you've gotta go round the counter and it's really “inconvenient”,
And when you come back you toss them into that sliding metal tray device thing that separates us and you say “One pound thirty five.”
As opposed to “That'll be one pound thirty-five please, sir.”
This is of course done to annoy me, but has the opposite effect of amusing me no end, because suddenly I've got other things to buy

I'll ‘ave two scotch eggs and a jar of marmite
Two scotch eggs and a jar of marmite
Two scotch eggs and a jar of marmite
What sandwiches have you got?

Well now you become quite irate
And you're voice becomes louder
And you start to sound like Leadbelly at the depot
“I got Ham, I got Cheese, I got Chicken, I got Beef, I got Tuna Sweetcorn, I've got Tuna Sweetcorn”.

I'll ‘ave... ten kit-kats and a motoring atlas
Ten kit-kats and a motoring atlas
Ten kit-kats and a motoring atlas
And a blue CD on the Hallmark label, that's sure to be good.

Oh, he went to play golf on a Sunday morning,
Just a mile and a half from town.
His head was found on the driving range,
And his body's never been found.