"gherkins"

and for any yanks having trouble with the mother tongue...

I used to buy my chips from an oppressive chip shop regime.
The girl who worked there, she seemed happy,
But I knew it was not what it seemed.
“Do you want salt and vinegar”, was what they made her say,
But in the language of the ghetto,
That means, “Help, I’m a woman in chains”
I wanted to free her.
In my dreams I would see her.
Running naked through the woods round Rainham,
If I had some tigers I’d train them.
To protect her
From the sexual fascism that was lurking, round the gherkins
(yeah)
I’d lean across the counter and we would talk,
I carved the name “Debbie” on a little wooden fork.
But into the shop came a skinhead gang,
They snatched the fork from my hand.
Debbie, she looked at me, to assert my masculinity.
I said “Oi!”, they said “What?”, I said “Nothing…”

Eeeeee!!!!!! Billlllyyyyy!

(Sorry. 80s flashback. Don't eat the brown gherkins, mate.)

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