£2.20 is the first song we ever recorded, taking inspiration from a couple of nights out which ended messily and from people who criticize your choice in drink (I will water down my single malts and there's nothing you can do to stop me). Why not send us £2.20 in thanks? (I mean, there are several reasons, but still. Do it.)
lyrics
Why all the Jager, you don't have a cough.
Stop drinking Pinot Grigio, you look like a toff.
You only like your ale when it's brewed in a sock,
So sip your fucking mocktails you pretentious cock!
We've had five too many, too drunk to stand,
In the middle of the high street with our heads in our hands.
It's not big nor clever, to forget to remember.
You're not an oxymoron, just the last five letters!
Sat in a bus lane, too far gone, mate.
It's good the #67 doesn't drive here this late.
We would have got a taxi, but last time you blundered,
We were about to get in and then you fucking chundered.
[Chorus]
I'm not saying that ignorance is bliss.
All I'm saying is drunkenness is.
I'm not saying that ignorance is bliss.
All I'm saying is "fucking down it"!
Barely get your keys in, and you stumble through the door.
And after just a few steps, you're on the kitchen floor. (Ah, shit.)
Turn on late-night telly, and you focus on the screen.
You see yourself on "Bouncers", now you know where you've been!
(Uh, 'scuse me mate, could you step out the taxi, please?)
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