Chips and Chaos

I've got the manager by the scruff of the neck. I've gone, "Give me my fucking

chips." Bang! The manager's on the floor, red nose,

fucking knocked out on the cold. Security's come over. I've gone,

"Fucker, fucker." Doosh. Three of 'em, all knocked out.

Riot police come in. I thought, "Oh, let's all have it."

All with a, looking like this. "Get your hands up in the air." I've gone,

I'm talking backflips over all the bullets, landed on the van like a proper spider-man. I've picked the

van up by the top. I've gone, "I just want my chips," threw the van across the motorway.