Holiday

After 3 long painful hours

We finally step off the train

It don't look like in the brochure

It's all kind of brown and grey

Helter skelter's covered up

Lights out at the fairground

And if the you walk along the pier

You'll see why they burnt it down

Lets wish upon these stones

And we can throw them out to sea

I know it all looks kind of hopeless

But I believe they'll come back to me

And every wave that crashes down

Is a promise I'm making you

Let's take over some old pub

We can make this town brand new

Could have gone for sun and sand

Seen the sights of new Japan

Maybe Thailand or Jamaica

Been enlightened in Malaysia

But I decided we're coming here

It's a washout but we're gonna persevere

In the town that time forgot

We're gonna have fun whether you like it or not

We're going away on holiday

So pack your bags

Away the lads

And leave your dignity behind

For the broken lights on the promenade

And what's left of the skyline

In the pub he's red like lobster

Knocks them back he won't be outdone

Union Jack swimming shorts

In case we don't know where he's from

Goliwog in the shop front window

By the flashing vacancies sign

No wonder when the world turned

It left this town behind

Two lovers in a chip shop doorway

Huddled up 'cos it's howling down

Falling in and out of love tonight

But right now they're stood on common ground

Drunk Romeo and Angry Julie

Cuddly shark and a takeaway

Battered painting

See it fading

From the golden glory days

Who's gonna choose dirt and rain

When you could just fly to Spain

Wou can get there pretty cheap

Stay for about 'alf a week

But not us we like it here

Greasy food and pricey beer

We're the only ones remaining

We find it all entertaining

Just wake me up when it stops raining

We're going away on holiday

So pack your bags

Away the lads

And leave your dignity behind

For the broken lights on the promenade

And what's left of the skyline

He straightens up his bowtie in the mirror

Checks that his teeth are squeaky clean

For 35 years he's performed

His proudly politically incorrect routine

Bye the time the punchline arrives at climax

The silence is deafening

He realises he's the punchline

As the cold truth dawns on him

The spotlight fades out and the smoke disappears

And he shines he eyes right to the back of the hall

Aghast he screams as he falls to his knees and he sees

Ain't no audience after all

Just swarms of locusts

Rats and roaches

No applause no bunch of roses

We've moved on now he's dying

Cos we don't want to hear your racist jokes

Or your greased lightening

We're going away on holiday

So pack your bags

Away the lads

And leave your dignity behind

For the broken lights on the promenade

And what's left of the skyline

We're going away on holiday

And we know we won't have to queue

Because there's nobody around

The fortune tellers saw their crystal ball

And all moved out of town