A Country Practice Half Man Half Biscuit

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I feel like a beggar accepting alms
Then being pelted with figs
I study my steadily declining chart placings
They greet me with freezing cold inhospitality
Hey, where did that bloke go who said I was vital?

I possess the mild air of a retail tobacconist
That's because I'm a retail tobacconist
But the mayflies on a Berkshire trout river
Would probably tell you a different story
About ham-fisted diadems and momentary daydreams
Of mythical dividends and illusory boardroom suits

In the room festooned with fat beef certificates
From county shows
Duff leg Bryn had drank too much again
Most of Wem was steering clear of him
I've got no time for this 12th consecutive Rose Bowl

Cos at Sunday next at ten to four
I've got an invitation for
A trip around Katharine Hamnett's warehouse
Followed by dinner with David Emmanuel
Whom I can't wait to tell about my dream
In which the almost illegal Elton Welsby
Is dressed as a French maid on a moonless byway
Licking his lips as he creeps ever closer
Fast falls the eventide
Fast falls the eventide