Lyrics

Put on your platform soles and paint your nails white We got to look our best at mr. fred's tonight We learned our dance moves, god, I hope we get them right Don't smile, your crown shows up in ultra-violet light Just down the alleyway behind the goods yard wall Inside what used to be the local mission hall Patrolled by heavies in their aquascutum suits No jeans, no overalls, no steel toecapped boots Got a london dj booked And someone said he looks like les mckeown, can you see? When he gets up on thе stage I know he's gonna play some wickеd tunes just for me Later on when he's done his tracks He'll pull some grockle cow and take her back to his b & b See the guys in their diamond tops and their oxford bags Take care in the lightshow 'cos the strobes can drive you mad If you're epileptic you'll be sure to have a fit So don't forget to ask them Where they keep the first aid kit Thank goodness we're both healthy We're here to have ourselves A real good time, come on let's dance Hoik up your satin bell sleeves We're gonna leave our troubles far behind in the past You noticed those two old guys? Well, they've been eyeing us since we arrived...not a chance It's nearly fifty years since we were standing here The image starts to wave and the music goes all weird The room is empty and the mould is sickly blue This place is coming down in another week or two Over there where the speakers stood There's just a pile of wood and broken glass, mind your toes It's hard to get your bearings But that banquette is where I parked my arse long ago And flat out on the dance floor Old mr. fred won't boogie any more, oh no no It's gone, mr. fred's, it's gone, mr. fred's, it's gone