From memory:

See, it was like this when we waltzed into the room. Two papish cats doing an aztec two-step, and I says "Dad, lets cut". But all of a sudden a dame comes up from behind and says: "Like wow, I think that you and I could really exist". Only the next day I find out that she has bad teeth and hates poetry.

It was on the back of their first album, and I believe it was Feringetti, or some beat poet. Were the duo Rex Fowler and Neil somebody, and are they still a duo?