The Day My House Got Overrun by an Assortment of Youth Subcultures

There were Gothics in my attic
Painting each other’s nails
Washing their hands in the water tank
Getting make-up all over my towels

A crowd of Casuals were on the landing
All wearing Martinique suits
While Skinheads skanked around the garden
Pulling my plants up by their roots

Out front a line of Boy Racers
Revved up their “all show no go” cars
As a bunch of Hippies sat on the lawn
Dropping acid and playing guitars

Just inside the front doorway
An Essex Girl was getting shagged
By an Essex Man who was a Thatcher fan
And thought the Essex Girl a slag

In the basement danced aesthetic Mods
Fuelled high on amphetamine
Slim cut Italian suits and modern jazz
The perfect 60’s scene

Teddy Boys and Rockers were drinking
Beer inside my kitchen
As some Satanists and Jesus Freaks
Started up a little witching

Skaters screamed up the hallway
Power grinding down my stairs
As some Druggies peddled smack
To some Scottish Neds (who cares?)

The ASBO generation were sitting in the lounge
All Burberry, track suits and baseball caps
With young Chavettes
On each of their laps

Drums and bass boomed out the bedroom
Where the Jungle Soldiers were getting mashed
Whilst the Rude Boys in the bathroom
Danced to “When the two seven’s clash”

The conservatory was crammed full
With a mob of pogoing Punks
New Romantics chatted to Anorak Nerds
While the Suedeheads listened to funk

All of them seemed to be getting on well
There seemed no social bars
Until some Scallies nicked a radio
And keyed the Boy Racers Cars

The Mods all ran out to their scooters
As did the Rockers to their bikes
Soon it was like Brighton back in ‘67
With fighting, and alike

A Teddy Boy chinned a Casual
A Chav scared him with some bling
The Essex Girl did one as well
The Hippies stopped playing

The Gothics all went white
Actually, they looked like that before
And soon, with a crash and a bang
The Lumpenproletariat were kicking down my door

The Mods they all went mental!
The Chavs already were
Two aging Yuppies were having puppies
Then everything became a blur

I grabbed my hoody from the hanger
And made it to the streets
It was time to get out of there
I knew that I was beat

Dreads on my path were having a laugh
It was all getting proper vexing
They were banging away at mobile phones
Who the fuck were they texting?

Mike Skinner ran out after me
Wearing a crombie, red socks and brogues
Followed by two Hippies, the Essex Girl
And a few assorted rogues

It was one hell of a party
It lived up to all the hype
Every room full of youth subcultures
Representatives from every type

The day my house got overrun
By an assortment of youth subculture
I didn’t complain, I just danced through the night
Me? I’m just a subculture vulture!