Staggered in MaccDonald's on a Friday afternoon,
All the pubs were shut, there was knob all else to do.
I said: 'Give us a big mac, now, you spotty little twat.'
He said: ' Have a nice day, sir, would you like a paper hat?'
I said: 'Have a nice day, bollocks, where's me fucking mac? And I'll have a pint of root
beer in a proper fucking glass. If its some new bloody lager, I'll smash your nose into the
floor, I won't be drinking in MaccDonald's when they change the drinking laws.
Then I'll drink, drink, drink, 'til its coming out me ears, drink, drink, drink, 'til the pub runs out of beer, drink, drink, drink, 'til I can't take another sip, -all day drinking on an intravenous drip.
What's the point of drinking up at three-o-fucking clock? When there's decent hours in
Scotland, but that's all full of Jocks. The penny-pinching bastards have all got ginger hair,
and it takes an hour to buy a pint, you can't understand a word. And they're queuing up outside
the pub, waiting for a sale, bet they wished they put their bags on when it blows a fucking gale,
everyone will buy more beer when they change the drinking laws, they can spend the extra tax
they get, and mend that fucking Wall.'