Bayswater Ain't a Bad Place to Be Lyrics

Nicko: Are we off?
Bruce: Yeah!
Nicko: A-one, two-two, th... Er... three. <acoustic guitar starts>
Bruce: <putting on Rod Smallwood's Yorkshire accent>

I don't know what this b***** track's doing there... b***** track. What are these b***** k***s?... What is?... What are you doing here? What about doing all this b***** music? Stop that! Stop that Nicko! b***** hell! I've had this! What about the b***** deadline? p****** about in the b***** studio all the time! I mean I'm b***** sat here working my fingers to the bone, trying to get this b***** album out at the top of the b***** artwork and Steve wants some b***** blobby tatoo on his b***** willie to draw the b***** head in. What the b***** hell do they think I am? I've b***** got to walk into the b***** EMI, Capitol, and the biggest b***** record companies in the b***** world and say "Look here's a b***** picture of a b***** Eddie with a bloke and his f****** d***"! What the b***** hell do you all think they're gonna make of that?

Why can't they write songs about proper things like cricket? Aaargh, God! Boycott! There we go, man! There, man! They're writing b***** stupid songs these day, you know what I mean? Gremlins Two the b***** great film, you know. If I'd wanted the band to be b***** in it well they'd be b***** in it and all this, you know, b***** stupid. b***** blood everywhere, it's brilliant! b***** hell, where's the b***** cricket? I know it's christmas! It shouldn't make any f****** difference should it, they should be putting cricket on. Speaking of christmas, I invited some b****** round at christmas. He ain't paid me for the b***** turkey yet. What did he have? Two-thirds of a breast and half a thigh. That'll be five pounds sixty-three pence. What a c***, there's some b***** a***holes around these days. You never know, they stab you in the back as soon as look at you.

Nicko! Nicko! Nicko stop wearing that b***** jacket in those photo sessions. You look b***** pregnant, man. Oooh, don't give me that stupid look. How many b***** chins have you got? Never mind how many chins I've got. How many b***** chins have you got? Couldn't you dress appropriately on a golf course, Nicko. Nooo! You don't wear... You wouldn't come onto a b***** golf course or a b***** drumkit wearing a b*****... a b***** silk b***** satin b***** whatever the b***** hell it is, would you? Well, I don't care if you're a pop star, you're a b*****... you're on a b***** golf course now. You're b***** embarrassing me. You're embarrassing me. You come with a b***** jacket and tie next time, I tell you.
Now, shut up 'cos I'm going to address... no, I'm not gonna b***** address the envelope, I'm gonna address the ball. Right, I'm adjusting the ball. I'm standing here right now, ok. <mumbles something unintelligible> Where's the b***** ball? Right here, right. See now... Fault! Fault! Get out of the b***** way, you stupid...! Get out of the way, you stupid a***holes! Get out! I'm b***** going to play the f... I'm b***** going to play the ball! f****** f... I'll hit them on the b***** head never mind. Right. Here we go, right. Whooooo... b******! b******s off! f****** hell! f***! f***! f***! It's all you b***** fault. It's all you b***** fault. It's all... I can pick it up, can't I? Why not?! What is it? What? What's up with the f****** rules? What b***** rules? These stupid b***** rules. Well how should I... Where is it? In the water!? What am I suppos... Look! Well you'll have to get it. It's your b***** fault. You b***** get it! Yes, now! I'm not... I don't care if it's not part of your job description. Record producer? Wha... Well you'll never b***** work again. Get in that b***** water now or you'll never b***** work again. b***** nerve! Record producer! You know who I am? What do you mean you've never heard of me? You must have seen me number plate, it's on me Range Rover. Where do I live? Well how should I know if there's any mountains in Bayswater? I only go out to get the Sunday papers! Anyway they're b***** late, aren't they?

You know, I mean... I mean what good is the b***** music without the... see, what good is the b***** music without the sleeve I ask him. No! No! No! Nobody's bothered about the music Steve. Only you and the fans. I mean... I mean if it wasn't for the b***** fans I wouldn't be here! You understand? You know, I mean I'm only b*****... I'm not doing this for fun! You know, I mean... Steve... No, no, no. Steve... No, no, no. No need to talk to me like that Steve. Now look... Now look, I'm only arguing with you for fun, Steve. No, of course I don't mean it. I just want to give you the you know... drive you to an early grave, you know.

But, er... Nick... Oh, oh... Nicko! Nicko! Nicko, not behind that bush. Nooo! It's Win... It's Windsor b***** golf course, the b***** queen plays here. If she f****** played golf she'd play here! Oh for Christ's... What if b***** lord what's his name walked here. Ooooh.....

You what? 'Fear Of The Dark'? You want to call it 'Fear Of The Dark'? <sighs> Hold on, I'll see what the bloke at the b***** off-license thinks about it. Like, listen. I've spoken to the bloke at the b***** off-license and I've spoken to the minicab driver, and he thinks it should be called 'Blood Sweat'n'Beer', nothing like a b***** good Yorshire t**le, like. Look, you get on with the b***** music and we'll deal with important stuff like, you know, the marketing and the design and the sleeve and the photograph, anything goes to me. I've got a lot better t**le. What about 'L.A.'s From Here To Eternity' or 'Bayswater Ain't A Bad Place To Be'? Well I know Bayswater isn't rock'n'roll, Steve, but neither was Monterey until b***** Hendrix went there. The Isle of Wight was never b***** rock'n'roll until the b***** Beatles went there. Oh I know the Beatles never went there, but it's only a b***** detail. Don't be so f****** pedantic. Oh, b***** hell! What? This b***** song? This b***** song... what about calling it... what about calling it 'Fear Of The Golf'? 'Fear Of The Golf' No, not the Gulf! You don't want to depress everybody. What's that got to do with... You've already got a song about the Gulf War. 'Afraid To Shoot Strangers', this is about the Gulf War. Well the Gulf War's over, Steve! It's already happened and it's not news anymore. Couldn't you change it, one letter and make it about golf. Golf's happening all the time! It happens every b***** year. The Gulf War never happens every b***** year, does it? I mean they'll have forgotten about it in five years' time. You're not singing about the b***** Second World War now. But nobody's singing songs about golf. You'll go to the b***** market, I'm telling you! You will! You will!
What is this b***** bit of graffitti on the bog wall? "I'm not afraid to shoot managers"! Who put it there? Who put it there, hands up! Who put it there? Who did? Merck? Merck put it there? He b***** works for me. He never told me he could read or write! I'll have to b***** watch my back now. There's a b***** conspiracy theory going on. b***** hell!

Who wants to talk to me? Who? Who's on the phone? An artist? b***** namby pamby, tell him to f*** off I'm watching the b***** golf. Oh, somebody still owes me for half the cost of that b***** turkey when he came 'round for christmas dinner. b***** nerve! Mind you! Mind you, you do have to look up. You know, I mean the lads, they not so bad. I know they don't mean everything they say because... because ultimately I'm always right. And in the end it's always my ideas that do get chosen even though I didn't think of them. Well, not quite. I mean I like to think of meself as being a... a creative Geoffrey Boycott. You know, like the bloke who stood there for hours and hours until the crowd went still, and then he was still shown on the telly after they were all dead. Oh, yes! The legend will live on! And they b***** know me down the Indian, you know. I'm a b***** superhuman cricket man, boycotting existential golfing machine! I can't dig the Blues, but I can dig a b***** <unintelligible>, I can b***** tell you! I'm a massless millionaire, a b***** vulcanised superviking. I'm Frederick Roderick Smallwood, with my own b***** number plate. I'll b***** tell them. I tell you I'm b***** glad I came back here from L.A.

England b***** needs me.
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