Lovely bloke Billy Bragg returns with an Ian Dury type number that pokes fun at English narcissism, (I think) and shows Robbie Williams up for the pleasant, detatched bungalow that he is. Once Billy Bragg railed at a London Underground employee because his pass wouldn’t go through and the pissed off, powerless employee said: “Then go write a fuckin’ song about it, mate.” Bragg apologised. Top geezer.