+ MAY PART II 2025

Physical Surveillance.

Physical Surveillance. (Jagz Kooner Remix)

Keep Lovin You

Keep Lovin You (Basshead Jam)

Catching feelings

Got to Have Love

Glad

I Predict A Riot

I Predict A Riot (Big Nurse Remix)

Bleed

I Am Enough Inside BII

Up at three, no sleep, airport queue,  
Union Jack shorts, what else to do?  
Plastic pint at the gate, cheap lager haze,  
Chanting songs from the glory days.  

"Get it down ya!" — yeah, what a laugh,  
Half a brain in a two-pint glass,  
Sunburnt pride and a football chant,  
'Til they're pukin' up their lager grant.  
  
It's the English Disease!  
No cure, no peace,  
Raise a glass, lose your keys,  
It's the English Disease!  
Can't walk, can't speak,  
But they're "living the dream,"  
A nation drunk on its own esteem.  

On the flight, they're king and clown,  
Crew duck low when the beer goes down,  
Screaming "lads! lads! lads!" — tribal call,  
Benidorm waits for the great downfall.  

"Who needs culture, mate? We've got booze!"  
Another round, another fuse,  
They're flying the flag in their neon vests,  
Drunk history, in a stringer vest.  

It's the English Disease!  
No cure, no peace,  
Raise a glass, lose your keys,  
It's the English Disease!  
From Gatwick to the Med,  
Brains pickled, eyes red,  
Proud to be the walking dead.  

Doctor says: "It's terminal pride."  
Symptoms: loud voice, vacant eyes.  
Contagious in groups of five or more,  
Spreads fastest through airport doors.  

Oi! Oi! Oi! Get it down ya!  
Oi! Oi! Oi! Sunburn's crown ya!  
Oi! Oi! Oi! Cheap flight, big shame!  
Oi! Oi! Oi! Same old game!  

It's the English Disease!  
No class, no grace,  
Just a nation off its face!  
It's the English Disease!  
From pub to plane to beach to fight,  
They'll drink the dark before the light.  

"Welcome to Alicante, lads."  

The English Disease

Got to Have Love

Pulp

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