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saturday night - victoria wood lyrics

[verse 1]
oh dear! what can the matter be?
eight o’clock at night on a sat*rday
tracey clegg and nicola battersby
coming to town double quick

[verse 2]
they rendezvous in front of a pillar
tracey’s tall like jonathan miller
nicola’s more like guy the gorilla
if guy the gorilla were thick

[verse 3]
their hair’s been done. it’s very expensive
their use of mousse and gel is extensive
as weapons, their heads would be classed as offensive
and put under some kind of a ban

[verse 4]
thеy’re covered in pеrfumes, but these are misnomers
nicola’s scent could send dogs into comas
tracey’s k!lls insects and dustbin aromas
and also gets stains off the pan

[chorus 1]
but it’s their night out
it’s what it’s all about
looking for lads, looking for fun
a burger and chips with a sesame bun
they’re in the mood
for a fabulous interlude
of living it up, painting the town
drinking bacardi and keeping it down
but it’s all alright
it’s what they do of a sat*rday night
[verse 5]
oh dear! what can the matter be?
what can than terrible crunching and clatter be?
cowboy boots of nicola battersby
leading the way into town

[verse 6]
they hit the pub, and tracey’s demeanor
reminds you of a loopy hyena
they have sixteen gins and a rum and ribena
and this is before they’ve sat down

[verse 7]
they dare a bloke from surrey called murray
to phone the police and order a curry
he gets locked up. it’s a bit of a worry
they won’t have to see him again

[verse 8]
they’re dressed to k!ll and looking fantastic
tracey’s gone for rubber and plastic
nicola’s dress is a piece of elastic
it’s under a heck of a strain

[chorus 2]
but it’s their night out
it’s what it’s all about
ordering drinks, ordering cabs
making rude gestures with doner kebabs
they’re in the mood
for a fabulous interlude
of weeing in parks, treading on plants
getting their dresses caught up in their pants
and it’s all alright
it’s what they do of a sat*rday night
[verse 9]
oh dear! what can the matter be?
what can that terrible slurping and splatter be?
tracey clegg and nicola battersby
snogging with derek and kurt

[verse 10]
they’re well stuck into heavyish petting
it’s far too dark to see what you’re getting
tracey’s bra flies off, how upsetting
and several people are hurt

[bridge]
oh dear, oh dear
oh dear, oh dear

[verse 11]
oh dear! what can the matter be?
what can that moth*eaten pile of old tatters be?
tracey clegg and nicola battersby
getting chucked off the last ninety*two

[verse 12]
with miles to go and no chance of hitching
and nicola’s boots have bust at the stitching
tracey laughs and says, “what’s the point b*tchin’?
i couldn’t give a b*gg*r. could you?”

- victoria wood lyrics

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