Coming Apart At The Seams

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There’s a flag tied to a lamppost outside JK’s pad
And Tommy thinks that gendered toilets are really just for the lads
They both love the bruisers with Turkish teeth
The self-appointed toilet police

It’s as bad as it seems
It’s coming apart at the seams
And if you wanna stitch it together
Gotta stick together
Know what I mean
It’s as bad as it seems
It’s coming apart at the seams
And if you wanna stitch it together
Gotta stick together
Know what I mean

Meanwhile there’s actual Nazis fighting coppers in southern streets
Wearing suits and moustaches like pound shop Mosley wannabes
The coppers might pray for rain
It’s Nigel’s riots all over again

It’s as bad as it seems
It’s coming apart at the seams
And if you wanna stitch it together
Gotta stick together
Know what I mean
It’s as bad as it seems
It’s coming apart at the seams
And if you wanna stitch it together
Gotta stick together
Know what I mean

Most people ain’t racist
Most people ain’t anti-trans
But they ain’t the loudest voices
They ain’t the ones with a billion pounds

It’s as bad as it seems
It’s coming apart at the seams
And if you wanna stitch it together
Gotta stick together
Know what I mean
It’s as bad as it seems
It’s coming apart at the seams
And if you wanna stitch it together
Gotta stick together
Know what I mean
Together, know what I mean
Together, know what I mean
Together, know what I mean

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Kingmakerfield (A Song For Jason)

Cotton mills, collieries
Weaving sheds and potteries
Hinges, locks, files and nails
Labour leadership emails
From Makerfield
Made in Makerfield
Kingmakerfield

Now there’s too much derelict land
Spoil tips, we understand
Where the pits used to be
In the a la mode constituency
Of Makerfield
Makerfield
Kingmakerfield

Wes didn’t fire the starting gun
For the race to be number one
He’s waiting for the northwest son
From Makerfield
Kingmakerfield

The diocese of Liverpool
Granada TV’s gritty cool
Joe Gormley OBE
Who will be the next MP
Of Makerfield
Makerfield
Kingmakerfield

Wes didn’t fire the starting gun
For the race to be number one
He’s waiting for the northwest son
From Makerfield
Kingmakerfield

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Jason and Joanna, and The Leadership Challenge

JASON is sat at the kitchen table, staring at his laptop. JOANNA is emptying the dishwasher, putting cutlery and crockery away in various drawers and cupboards. LBC plays in the background.

JASON: They say that there’s going to be a coup.

JOANNA: A coup? Right. Do you think that we should take some biscuits?

JASON: Yeah. They reckon that Streeting will resign today.

JOANNA: Oh (pauses) I’m sure that there will be tea, but Mum always likes a biscuit with her tea.

JASON: Lots of people are saying Burnham.

JOANNA: Those nine hours in A&E can’t have been easy for her, particularly not at her age. I hope that she was able to get a cup of tea, at least.

JASON: No (pauses) But he’s not even an MP. Someone would have to stand down.

JOANNA: I suppose I should check what time we can visit. Will you come?

(The news bulletin on the radio is discussing Angela Rayner’s tax affairs)

JASON: Yes, no (pauses) maybe. Apparently, Rayner’s cleared to stand.

JOANNA: I suppose I could get the bus. That might be better. Did you hear about Karen’s letter?

JASON: What letter? Rayner! Honestly.

JOANNA: She’s been told that her job is at risk. She might be made redundant.

JASON: No, she’s been cleared by the taxman (pauses) Oh, Karen. Right, yeah.

JOANNA: She really doesn’t know what to do with herself. She won’t be able to afford the rent on that place without a job.

JASON: Hmm. Miliband! Of course! That’s why he’s saying that he’s not interested.

JOANNA puts the last cup away and closes the dishwasher

JOANNA: Well, if I’m going to get the bus, I’d better get going.

JASON looks up at her, briefly, then returns his gaze to the laptop.

JASON: Okay.

JOANNA (to herself): Nothing’s going to change, is it?

JASON: Hmm? No. Probably not.

JOANNA leaves.

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Voting Fascist

I’ll tell you what’s a bother, what’s a-bothering me
I’ll tell you what’s a bother, what’s a-bothering me
Tell me what’s the difference between you and me
And why you would vote for a fascist

Your avenues are like our wide streets
Our estates are made from the same concrete
Like the pubs and shops where people meet
So why would you vote for a fascist

I come from the city of a hundred tongues
I come from the city to which everyone comes
No need to see the world when the world comes here
While you live in fear

Don’t live in fear

‘Cos it’s not perfect
Nothing ever is
But if we work it
Takes less than it gives
If you come from the place where everybody lives
You’d never vote for a fascist

I’ll tell you what’s a bother, what’s a-bothering me
I’ll tell you what’s a bother, what’s a-bothering me
Tell me what’s the difference between you and me
And why you would vote for a fascist

Our children’s problems are the same as yours
The same woes behind the same front doors
The same kids, the same rich men’s wars
So why would you vote for a fascist

I come from the city that forgets where you are from
I come from the city where you just belong
The city that says everything is here
While you live in fear

Don’t live in fear

‘Cos it’s not perfect
Nothing ever is
But if we work it
Takes less than it gives
If you come from the place where everybody lives
You’d never vote for a fascist

And we hear it
When the fascist lies
We see his greed
It’s no surprise
A rich man set to better rich men’s lives
So, I’d never vote for a fascist
Never vote for a fascist

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Havering

If you climb a lamppost in Romford
You can see Clacton-on-Sea
The roundabouts all lead to Essex
Where the punters say they’d rather be

Paying their taxes in crypto
Or rolls of used twenty-pound notes
A borough landlocked celebrating
How now they can stop the boats

If you climb a lamppost in Romford
You can see Clacton-on-Sea
Where give ‘em a chance to fuck it all up
Is the only hope there seems to be

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A Royal Visit

The men who would be king
More than anything
By birthright, exercise of might
Or ear-bloodied “fight, fight, fight”
Shake hands for the press clips
Lend their names to battle ships
Share sotto voce quips
Of lives so obscenely rich
There are no lengths to which
They will not go
To protect the status quo
So, while the radio
Squawks “Awks!”
The money talks
Eats lavish dinners
Knows who are the real winners
Knows it’s them not us
Chinks glasses while you fuss
T’was ever thus
But power won at point of sword
Or from a populace so bored
Of being told they can’t afford
Their just reward
Suggests; protests
That a royal visit’s best ignored

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