Here's the words Robbie, though I'm sure they're around here somewhere. Perhaps we'll hear it in the beer tent at Shrewsbury.....

BUGGER BOGNOR

Poor King George he was a sick man
Resting on his royal bed
And the Doctors couldn't cure him
And feared he would soon be dead
Suddenly a brilliant notion
Flashed into the Doctor's mind
What he needs is bracing sea air
Of that chilly Bognor kind

Bugger Bognor, bugger Bognor
Bugger Bognor says the King
You'll never get me back to Butlins
No I'll never do that thing

The diagnosis it was fatal
Bognor was the final straw
Would he last until the morning?
Would he see the sun no more?
The Royal Physician knowing protocol
Saw quite clear where duty lay
Despatched the King a trifle early
To catch the Times the following day

The Royal Train it was prepared
For that trip down to the coast
But before he could commence it
Poor King George gave up the ghost
So if you wondered why proud Bognor
Added Regis to it's name
'Tis because the King of England
Died at mention of the same

Rob Scrase