Pricks in space Rich pricks in space Rich pricks who think they’re philanthropists In space In space
Jeff’s got a rocket Looks like a cock It’s a rich spaceman Delivery system If space is so much better He should just go and live there
Pricks in space Rich pricks in space Rich pricks who think they’re philanthropists In space In space
Richard was skint But now he’s got a mint To spunk on a rocket That looks like a cock It’s a rich spaceman Delivery system Only a space mission By the NASA definition
Cos there’s not enough to keep him here He loves a party near the edge of atmosphere
Pricks in space Rich pricks in space Rich pricks who think they’re philanthropists In space In space
Elon wants a rocket That looks like a cock It’s a burning ambition To fly a space mission So he’s looking for a lift with Dick Cos he thinks that Jeff’s a prick
Pricks in space Rich pricks in space Rich pricks who think they’re philanthropists In space In space In space In space
A beaming Kier Starmer is beamed into our homes Wearing an England top stitched by children in export processing zones, And who’s that posing by an England flag? Why it’s Owen Jones. It’s amazing what winning and taking the knee can do, Even Priti’s forgotten that she’d rather boo And that seems to go for her boss too With his England shirt worn over his clothes.
Keep the politicians out of football, but not the politics, ‘Cos it’s hard not to love a team that’s anti-racist And not afraid to make the boo boys face it. Who’ll speak truth to power and use their position Like Marcus, leader of the opposition, Got Spaffer to cough up on child nutrition. There’s still plenty out there to make them fix.
So, Lee Anderson can go unpack a box And take that wanker with him, Laurence Fox. In fact, all the politician bandwagon jumpers Who would never normally know their Arse from their Spurs Or their O’s from their Bees Can watch at home on TV While our players take the knee, Because just sticking to football ain’t the aim And Black Lives Matter in the People’s Game.
He’d punch his opponent Though punching weren’t allowed He’d wind up the ref And he’d wind up the crowd In his black leotard that only had one strap You knew you were in for a bit of a scrap Because his wrestling shenanigans should’ve got him banned And God help you if you tried to shake his outstretched hand ‘Cos dirty Sid came from Dirty Leeds Filling your Saturday teatime with dirty deeds Picking up public warnings for fun He’d often find himself undone By two falls, two submissions or a knockout ‘Cos rules really weren’t what he was about But now it’s goodnight grapple fans from Cyanide Sid At the end of a heel’s life well lived With a twisted smile as he’d twist a limb. If only Spaffer were as honest as him
Killing people’s okay But kissing ’em isn’t. Give your girl a job, But make sure you keep her distant Workplace lovin’ Brings a certain frisson But killing people’s okay And kissing ‘em isn’t
Hopeless Hancock had his cake and ate it Gave his girl a job, but now he might regret it If there’s a prize for incompetence, you think he’d probably get it But give ‘em extra marital, they won’t let you forget it
Professor Lockdown will tell ya, “It happened to me”. But Hopeless don’t take advice easily. Although he hands out contracts to friends and family It’s about him and Gina: Stars of CCTV
‘Cos sex sells papers, I’m sure you understand We live in saucy seaside postcard land It’s Carry On Government at it’s most grand And Hands Face Arse might get him banned
As I was passing Charlborough House I met a man who’d stopped to stare I asked the stranger as we stood What kind of folk live there What kind of folk live there
The kind of folk live there, said he Built the wall that now divides Own all the land that you can see And half of Dorsetshire besides Half of Dorsetshire besides
Half of Dorsetshire besides, said I And all the land that I can see Pray tell me sir, what kind of folk Have such economy? Have such economy?
Such economy? Said he Why that’s the home of Richard Drax Whose family wealth was built upon Thirty thousand broken backs Thirty thousand broken backs
Thirty thousand broken backs, said I Pray tell me what you mean Does such a man of wealth and land Have hands that aren’t kept clean? Hands that aren’t kept clean?
Hands that aren’t kept clean? Said he His money came from slavery His hands are dirty as can be Here’s a little history A little history, said he
That history begins with James Whose money came from sugar cane A pioneer of the slave trade And Drax Hall stands today Drax Hall stands today
Drax Hall stands today, said he And Drax plantation too Where brother William took the trade And their slave numbers grew Their slave numbers grew
Their slave numbers grew, said he Until there came the day That slavery was banned, said he But it was John Drax who got paid (a fortune) John Drax who got paid
It was John Drax who got paid, said he And not the former slaves The owners compensated Not the people freed from chains Not the people freed from chains
Not the people freed from chains, said he And Drax lives to this day On the wealth of land worked by slaves That he glibly waves away He glibly waves away
He glibly waves away, said he He denies his history Says it was hundreds of years ago Nothing to do with me, says he Nothing to do with me
Nothing to do with me, said I When his life’s such luxury And owns half of Dorsetshire beside Off the proceeds of slavery The proceeds of slavery
As I was passing Charlborough House I met a man who’d stopped to stare So I asked the stranger what it was That he was doing there What are you doing there
What am I doing here, said he I’ve come to settle the score This day there might be just me But one day there’ll be more One day there’ll be more
One day there’ll be more, said he One day then we’ll see The attitudes of slavers Join their statues in the sea Join their statues in the sea
As I was passing Charlborough House, I met a man who’d stopped to stare And having heard his story I stayed and joined him there I stayed and joined him there
Derek’s singing No Surrender In the comfort of his own front room Cos it’s too politically correct To keep St George in your heart these days, he fumes
Cos Derek won two world wars And Derek won one world cup So, Derek won’t offer any applause To players who won’t stand up
Gareth say be proud of an England Where players take the knee In the interests of pride and the interests of respect And a little equality
Equality scoffs Derek, now he’s playing for a draw That’s not what I tuned into the Euros for Keep St George in my heart and God save the Queen And God help us get out of Group D
Derek’s singing No Surrender In the comfort of his own front room Cos its seating room only in that pub on the front Can’t be doing booking tables in the local ‘Spoon
Gareth says be proud of an England Where the players take the knee With responsibility to the community Out of respect and out of duty
Derek says, well, it’s Marxist (Oh come on, why doesn’t he pass it?) You should keep your politics out of the game All lives matter, know what I’m saying?
Derek’s singing No Surrender In the comfort of his own front room There’s no thought police between the carpets and the curtains His home’s his castle, of that he’s certain
Gareth says be proud of an England Where the players take the knee And in the interests of pride and the interests of respect They’ll stand and sing God Save The Queen
And Derek’s singing No Surrender But St George in his heart ain’t so sure Stand for the anthem, kneel for your brothers Maybe ain’t so bad after all
Hancock, the Care Home Killer Says he’s saving lives While Barnard Castle Cummings Is sharpening his knives To no avail, as nothing sticks To the Teflon Tory Who’s taken his tricks To Westminster Cathedral, no less To marry number three, Carrie (I hear you’re a Catholic now, father) But, I digress Hancock, the Care Home Killer Who connived To send the virus into care homes But said that he was saving lives Continues to tell lies As Cummings’ evidence provides So when all this is over, don’t forget Even as the statue of Boris Johnson’s getting wet That the ministerial hand upon that tiller Belonged to Hancock, the Care Home Killer
Who has got the more slappable face? Well, Scotch Egg Gove was leading the race But now Horrible Hancock is in first place You’ve gotta do what it takes And kick it ‘til it breaks
Kick it ‘til it breaks You gotta slap its silly face And kick it ‘til it breaks
What I said was What I meant was What I said was What I meant was For fuck’s sake Just kick it ‘til it breaks
And Cummings’ heroic self sacrifice bid Ain’t gonna forgive what he did A trip to the castle with his kid God forbid You’ve gotta kick it ‘til it breaks
Kick it ‘til it breaks You gotta slap its silly face And kick it ‘til it breaks
Then there’s the care home fiasco The PPE that didn’t show The clap a nurse but pay Dido They’ve gotta go You’ve gotta kick it ‘til it breaks
Kick it ‘til it breaks You gotta slap its silly face And kick it ‘til it breaks
Like a Hartlepool voter An EU fishing quota An Eton boater Who cares not one iota A pawnbroker playing poker While the odour of the owner Runs you over like a roller Someone wake me when it’s over And we can kick it ‘til it breaks
