**Lyrics**

I heard a little birdie say a rumour on the grapevine
Be at Blair castle at a twenty-five past nine
Pack up all that crap that your grandad left you
And that crazy wooden sculpture that looks like a Zulu
And everything you’ve ever almost thrown away
Bring it along cuz it may well just pay
We’re heading to a place where your dreams come alive
A place where reality and fantasy collide
It’s the antiques roadshow on the BBC
Crack on the telly cuz it’s just in time for tea
It’s in the top ten best programs easily
Cuz the fellas and the hos make loadsa money
Michael Aspel had to bid farewell
So that Fiona Bruce can make my pants swell
But the thing that really gets me’s when the grannies rock on down
And the expert checks her vase and it’s worth 3 thousand pound


You can get loads of cash for selling off your stash
Of the old shit in your attic that you always thought was gash
You get 14 grand for a painting of a hand
With it’s original frame and it’s original stand
You’ll get piles of dosh if your table looks well posh
But you could get even more if you just gave it a wash
And it doesn’t even matter that my pewter bowl leaks
Cuz my bitch just freaks when she sees my antiques! WHAT!

We’re on the antiques roadshow
Flogging all my crap trying to get me bucket loads of dough
Trying to get it on with the all the antiques expert hos
With their ghetto booties when they dip it low
Feeling up their mings with that look in their eye
Cuz the way they stroke their rugs makes my japs eye cry
Rubbing phallic sculptures Einstein made in pottery
Then they tell me what it’s worth like I won the lottery
When the after party’s starting and the dicks have finished artsy farting
All the chicks rock on through like the red sea’s parting
Getting on down to the badass beats of Handel
This party’s more fired up than a Roman Candle

I get my groove on right next to Hilary
She’s looking fine with her pashmina cardi
I slide my hand down her front
I put my finger in her dripping wet belly button
She tells me lower so I keep on going down
Till she cannot take it anymore and spins around
And she goes in for the kill with her head tilted, this feeling’s deep
I move in too… What the hell? Ah shit, I was asleep

You can get loads of cash for selling off your stash
Of the old shit in your attic that you always thought was gash
You get 14 grand for a painting of a hand
With it’s original frame and it’s original stand
You’ll get piles of dosh if your table looks well posh
But you could get even more if you just gave it a wash
And it doesn’t even matter that my pewter bowl leaks
Cuz my bitch just freaks when she sees my antiques! WHAT!

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