Let's Get Pretentious - Pete Townshend

MAN IN CLUB:

Are you Harold Pinter?

WOMAN IN CLUB:

Noel Coward, I think.

«Let's get pretentious, put on an act.

Let’s get

portentous and embroider the facts».

Ha ha ha ha ha…

MAN MUMBLING:

A fabulous extraordinary hit, especially these people shouting music

Let’s get pretentious

Put on an act

Let’s be portentous

And embroider facts

Exaggerate it

Dress up the bland

Let’s overrate it

Let the critics be damned

Let’s get sensuous

Put on some airs

Let’s drink Kailuas

And sit bored on the stairs

Let’s get excited

When we say hello

Let’s be delighted

Though it’s nobody we know

I don’t know much

But I know what I like

I don’t know much

But so-and-so said such-and-such

I don’t know much

But I know what I like

I don’t know much

Let’s find a market

For sparkling wit

Let’s make a target

Of anyone with a hit

Let’s keep some secrets

Let’s make them up

Put them together

Then break them up

I don’t know much

But I know what I like

I don’t know much

But so-and-so said such-and-such

I don’t know much

But I know what I like

I don’t know much

RAY:

Oh God, this place is crawling with journalists.

I hate the fucking lot of 'em

RASTUS:

Oh Ray, you’ve got to play the game, eh?

I mean, you’ve got to believe

RAY:

You know what I think?

RASTUS:

What?

RAY:

If you’ve got beauty or talent you’re going get caught up in some kind of

prostitution.

Well, it’s inevitable.

That’s all it was, my life on the road:

prostitution.

We’re all cunts after all.

Get me another drink

RASTUS:

As you know Ray, I find all this fascinating.

Pity Ruth Streeting’s missin' it

RAY:

Oh, she’ll get it, she’ll get it, all right.

But my way.

Don’t you worry.

My story’ll get told

I don’t know much

But I know what I like

I don’t know much

Now so-and-so said such-and-such

I don’t know much

But I know what I like

I don’t know much

Let’s get pretentious

Put on an act

Let’s be portentous

And embroider facts

Exaggerate it

Dress up the bland

Let’s overrate it

Let the critics be damned

RASTUS:

Ruth, wow.

Hey, you look wonderful in black leather

RUTH:

This isn’t leather you twerp, it’s rubber

RASTUS:

Hey watch it, you call me a «twerp» again and I might have to get me bicycle

pump out

RUTH:

Talking of flat tires, how’s Ray?

RASTUS:

I can’t get anything out of him.

He must have some dough stashed away,

and he’s up to something, but fuck knows what it is.

You know, he still reads

his fan mail, but he doesn’t reply to it anymore.

I don’t know what’ll fire him

up

RUTH:

Bet I could fire him up

RASTUS:

Yeah?

RUTH:

Yeah, I could do it.

You say he still reads his fan mail?

RASTUS:

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Oh, if you can do something Ruth, we could shift millions,

you know that?

And I’ll cut you in. I would

RUTH:

I might have an idea.

But it’d be dangerous… especially for Ray