She’s cosplaying poor
He’s a mansplaining bully
There are points to be scored
If her memory’s woolly
Of nice days in Roundhay
She wants you to choose
Between her cheapo Claire’s earrings
And his posh Prada shoes
I’m the son of a chemist
Rich Rishi declares
I helped serve curry
And with Mum’s tax affairs
But he’s interrupting
Like privilege does
The audience deducting
For his hedge fund boss buzz
While both of ‘em forget
That they’re part of the problem
What they promise to fix
Was just broken by ‘em
They disagree on tax hikes
But both agree to break strikes
Mick Lynch was right
About how far they’re right
It’s the choice of a kicking
From her boots or his shoes
Come September
Who will Waitrose Woman choose?