When I die I want everybody to go for a drink/ And leave cos it’s pricey and the music is shit/ King Antisocial not born for the nightlife/ I’m slippers and pipe after dinner and wine with my wife/ And nobody else…/ Here’s some advice, I hope that it helps/ People are arseholes, I know I can tell/ Out on a Friday night, or at home by yourself/ But for me, I’d rather watch the British women swimming team/ Than sit in a pinkish limousine on my way to a flippin’ “Cream”/ For a dance and a rave/ “Where’d you meet your missus?” I was dancing away/ But that was different, that was back in the day/ Now I’m older and I’m grumpy and I’m stuck in my ways/ “Dunt your missus like to danc…” …Stop interrupting me mate/ I’m trying to make a point about how it’s rubbish to rave/ How it’s rubbish to pay, a couple hundred for a/ Glass of summat you coulda made from your cupboard today/ Then you can shout at your mates over loud shit songs/ And have a dance with your dignity…oh it’s gone/ Shame for you, it’s not a shame for me/ Not saving up to kill my liver for a daily fee/ But with each chosen night that I don’t go to I/ Can’t complain if I’ve got no social life// CHORUS x2 Stick in the Mud, it is so good/ To never go out for a drink to a club/ Stick in the Mud, it is so good/ To never go out on the piss to a pub// So I feel I’ve got no mates left/ I may as well up sticks and head stage left/ Jump on the M62 head straight west/ Get a bigger house, make a great nest/ But the reason I’m feeling there’s nobody left/ I’m the antisocial one who’s stubborn as heck/ And hasn’t been out for a pint for a while/ Without a frown, or pout but a smile/ Ready to spout all types of denial/ About how I’m sound and my life int a pile/ Of steaming dog turd without seeming awkward/ Don’t generally speak how you feel in Yorkshire/ Stiff upper lip with a zip/ But getting pissed quickly unzips/ Soon you’re telling your mates missus she’s shit/ And isn’t good enough for him, like you think she’s a bitch/ Wake up the next day, brain in a messed state/ Wait, did I just say I hated my good mates lass?/ Didn’t mean that/ Can I take it back?/ Damage kinda done/ Feelin like a twat/ Cheers alcohol you’re the best/ Now I’m in a whole other mess/ This is why I don’t go for a Becks/ And just stay inside with smoke in my chest/ Feeling old and depressed// CHORUS x2 When you leave without saying “bye” it’s called a “French Exit”/ When you put idiots in charge you get Brexit/ When you give lads booze you get sexists/ Is there a girl over 18 that hasn’t been molested?/ By a guy, getting touchy and feely/ Trying to justify he was drunk, was he really?/ Or does every man just love to reveal he/ Is a mammal that requires rape just to feel he/ Passed, his sperm down the line/ The world is designed to further his climb/ To the top – adverts are so posed/ Hip-hop with endless reference to “those hoes”/ The idea a woman can look so-so/ And isn’t worth your time and effort with those clothes/ Get the new “this” and please pay for “that”/ Face up facts, it’s the makeup mask that’ll make those lads undertake that age old task/ Find your inner Kate Moss that’s/ Just what we all want/ …Add personality…it’s just as important/ …But said that – just cos we all nod/ But deep down we lust for a jaw drop/ Or a heart throb, or a super model/ But you won’t find love in your two McDonalds/ I’m not out doing battle on Tinder and stuff/ Perhaps if I hadn’t bumped into my love/ And that’s why our social life int up to much/ We’re in, just a couple of sticks in the mud//…. CHORUS x2