Month: December 2021

Back in the Day

Back in the day, there were no foodbanks
And no such thing as a mobile phone
You had to walk to find a phone box
If you needed to make a call home
They had rotary dials, could be left off the hook
And if you couldn’t remember the number
You had to look it up in the book

Back in the day, there were no foodbanks
And you recorded the telly on VHS
You mum went shopping in BHS
(She still could, I guess)
Woolworths and C&A
And you took pictures on photographic film
That had to be sent away

Back in the day, there were no food banks
We had the cold war, miners strikes, and Reaganomics
Jim Davidson and Bernard Manning
And a load of other old racist comics
Who smelled of Old Spice, Denim and Brut
We had endless summertime Seaside Special
And James Galway on the flute

Back in the day, there were no food banks
And pubs still had a cigarette machine
The nit nurse used to come to the school
And we all needed to have a TB vaccine
Which was better than getting the cane
Which, if you were enough trouble,
Could happen again and again and again

Back in the day, there were no food banks
And prawn cocktail was haute cuisine
With black forest gateau for pudding
But only If your main course plate was clean
And there was only one Chinese takeaway
Who’d put your dinner in a minicab
So long as you promised to pay

Back in the day there were no food banks
And everyone remembered the war
You used different key to start the car
From the one that opened the door
You never knew what would go wrong next
And if you needed to transfer money
You had to do it by writing cheques

Back in the day, there were no food banks

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Dear Mr. Johnson

Professor Chris in a darkened room
With his message of doom, his message of gloom
Says get your booster and get it soon
That’s his message to you

Professor Chris on podium two
Says don’t breathe on folks that you don’t have to
And try not to let them breathe on you
That’s his message to you

But now they’re looking at you like the monkeys in the zoo do
The naked ape that hasn’t got a clue
Throwing chimps’ tea parties and denying them too
Now it’s time for you

(So)
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
Bye bye, farewell, and then fuck off from there as well
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
(You insufferable toff)

The football fans know it, the darts fans know it
If there’s a party, you’re gonna throw it
If there’s bad seed, you’re gonna sow it
It’s time for you to go

(It’s)
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
Bye bye, farewell, and then fuck off from there as well
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
(You insufferable toff)

Bye bye, farewell, it’s time you blew
And take Jacob Rees-Mogg along with you
And Iain Duncan Smith and the ERG crew
In fact anyone identified as blue
It’s time for you

‘Cos they’re looking at you like the monkeys in the zoo do
The naked apes that haven’t got a clue
Throwing chimps tea parties and denying them too
Now it’s time for you

(It’s)
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
Bye bye, farewell, and then fuck off from there as well
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off
(You insufferable toff)
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off

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The Day They Cancelled Christmas

Shaun Bailey threw a party on the day they cancelled Christmas
Bozo chaired a little quiz, Allegra had a little cry

Shaun Bailey threw a party on the day they cancelled Christmas
With a substantial buffet and glasses of wine

Shaun Bailey threw a party on the day they cancelled Christmas
Tory donors, Christmas jumpers, party hats if so inclined

Shaun Bailey threw a party on the day they cancelled Christmas
Snug up for the pictures, no need to comply

Cos the rules, don’t apply to them
You can do what you like behind the doors of number 10
No, the rules don’t apply to them
Whatever you do when it comes around, please don’t vote them in again

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Dead Cats, Reverse Ferrets

He’ll need an army of dead cats to get out of this one
Carrie’s got a baby and Wilfie’s only one
And all the press are saying is, “not another one”
He’ll need an army of dead cats to get out of this one

Dead cats, reverse ferrets
Dead cats, reverse ferrets

He’ll need an army of dead cats to get out of this one
Turns out there were loads while we weren’t allowed a one
And he’s running out of mates even at the Currant Bun
He’ll need an army of dead cats to get out of this one

Dead cats, reverse ferrets
Dead cats, reverse ferrets

He said it didn’t happen
But it happened that it happened
And it happens that we happen
To know that it happened

He said it didn’t happen
But it happened that it happened
And it happens that we happen
To know that it happened

He’ll need an army of dead cats to get out of this one
Carrie’s got a baby and Wilfie’s only one
And all the press are saying is, “not another one”
He’ll need an army of dead cats to get out of this one

Dead cats, reverse ferrets
Dead cats, reverse ferrets
Dead cats, reverse ferrets
Dead cats, reverse ferrets

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Plan B

Work from home if you can work from home
Unless there’s a secret Santa party.
You’ll need a Covid pass if there’s enough folk
But we’re still having Downing Street festives, aren’t we?
Cover your face in public venues
Unless you’re having cheese and wine
And a lateral flow test might suffice
But you were never there’s still the party line.
Rest assured that everyone follows the guidance
At all events that you deny ever happen
And double down in faux outrage
When you see the clip of Allegra Stratton.
Contacts are okay if they test every day,
The Emperor’s new clothes are plain to see:
Don’t do as I do, do as I say,
It’s the 8th day of Advent, here’s Plan B.

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Barbara’s on the Radio

Barbara says it’s none of Nick’s business
Barbara says it’s her personal choice
Barbara’s ringing up the radio
Barbara says both sides need a voice

Barbara’s annoyed that Santa got the vaccine
Barbara’s mad at Tesco’s Christmas ad
Barbara’s ringing up the radio
Barbara thinks that we’ve all been had

Barbara doesn’t wear a seatbelt
Barbara doesn’t always turn the lights on
Barbara’s ringing up the radio
Barbara thinks that the science is wrong

Barbara’s careful what she puts in her body
Barbara’s ringing up to have a go
Barbara’s a bacon-eating anti-vaxxer
And Barbara’s ringing up the radio

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Oh, Micron!

Not oh-my-cron, little o
But ommi-cron, I don’t know
Why it should be so, but
The alphabet deflects damnation
From the variant’s home nation
And nu could be confused with new
And xi could be confusing too,
But Johnson called it omnicron
And that is definitely wrong.

Meanwhile Coach JVT
Says we’re picking up injury
And a yellow card or three.
So, to avoid sending offs
With persistent coughs
He’s bringing on the booster shots
And masking up in all the shops
And trains and buses, at the stops
Unlike his cavalier boss.

But transport’s one thing
And shops are another
While pubs and restaurants
Don’t have to bother.
If it’s personal responsibility
What happens in hospitality
Ain’t the fault of their strategy.
“No sir, not us at all!”
When it’s all spaffed up the wall.

Now they’re bringing in the army,
Calling up the volunteers,
Rolling up their sleeves
Like antiviral engineers.
They haven’t cancelled Christmas
(That would be bad for business)
Although there have been whispers.
Not oh micron, but omicron
What could possibly go wrong?

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