His nan died in a hospital corridor
His mum says her UC’s a ‘mare
He’s stuck for life in the box room
No girlfriend will wanna come there
He’s scrawled across the middle of a Cross of St. George
In marker, Stop The Boats
He’s been told for so long that’s the answer
A three-word bid for votes
He’s doing the windows, he’s lighting a fire
Chucking bricks at police patrols
He’s marking the murder of three little girls
With a tray of cold sausage rolls
It’s happy hour in The New Austerity Inn
And there’s still fighting in town
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it
Rachel doubles down
But two for the price of one
When you ain’t got the price of one
Ain’t helping anyone
And it’s not like she can just print money
It was just the same with George behind the jump
Gets a wry nod from the snug
Now there was a fella with no idea
Of how to run a pub
I spoke to a man who said he was a patriot
But he didn’t like the country much
He said he wasn’t a racist, but
And we really didn’t get past the but
Because he was retweeting Robinson
And Nigel Fucking Farage
A burning hotel in Rotherham
And rioters at large
Sweeping up with a hangover
I hear he got a sympathetic ear
From Nick Ferrari on LBC
GB News and Talk TV
Another bloke said well what do you expect
When people ain’t got a thing
There’s a burning police car outside
And it’s happy hour
In The New Austerity Inn
Like a newly refurbished East Stand cautiously avoiding talk of a stadium move, we present our brand new, PA upgrade-ready, version of Brisbane Road, complete with drums and updated lyrics, which you can stream on Spotify from today.
We are working on a limited edition 7″ vinyl release, more news on that when we have it, but for now stream away, and Up The O’s!
It’s happy hour in The New Austerity Inn
And a fight’s already broken out
If you can’t afford it, you can’t have it
Rachel cries, as another brick flies
And machetes are drawn in the street outside
Someone’s set fire to a police van
Someone’s shouting at Keith with a wreath
Someone says what about the children
A small voice what about the children
But the far right are flying the flag
And Rachel says God Save The King
Kicked in the head by airport cops
While Dujardin flogs her horse
For sections of the listenership
The horse was worse of course
Now she’s not going to the Olympics
But the child rapist is
What jobs should rapists be allowed
Is Thursday’s phone-in quiz
On Leading Britain’s Conversation
The hang and flog ‘em crowd
Who never stop to ask
Why Tommy Robinson’s allowed
Which leaves it up to us
To never let the haters win
Leading Britain’s Racists
Back to the fuckin’ bin
Tapping their fascist toes
To Louise Distras, I suppose
A far cry from The Factory Floor
And The Hand You Hold
I suspect this ain’t the album
That many folk were sold
Don’t give up hope
Beryl would remind us
It remains a slippery slope
It got him in the ear
But was aiming for his head
He was up shaking his fist
When he could’ve been brown bread
Underneath a Secret Service sprawl
And the bullet came from his side of the wall
It got him in the ear
And he didn’t even duck
But some others in the crowd
Didn’t have that kind of luck
Corey Contemporare took the fall
And the bullet came from his side of the wall
It got him in the ear
It was a bit tin anyway
He’s less of a listener
And more I’ll have my say
Now he’s a shoe-in for the Whitehouse in the fall
And the bullet came from his side of the wall
He packs away the pop-up tent
The kids were watching in
And sends congrats
To friends viewing in Spain
In high streets up and down the land
The homeward trudge of England fans
The disappointment
And the not again
No shame in second best
But the DV stats attest
That some blokes really shouldn’t mix booze
With their pain
The armchair rancour piles up
As Morata lifts the cup
Brings an end
To the ’24 campaign
Uncle Joe drops bombs
But he’s stopped telling rights from wrongs
And knowing who is who (is who?)
What’s a democrat to do?
Big fucking deal to big fuck all
Is what fifty million saw
Or fifty-one, says favourite son
George Clooney, born in ‘61
With earnest Hollywood clout
Who’s gonna keep the wall guy out?
They say that it may have stopped raining
They say the sun might come out
But there are dark clouds over Clacton
Giving me doubt
They say that it may have stopped raining
They say that they can clearly see
But there are dark clouds over Clacton
Troubling me
They say there’s a new skipper at the helm
They say he has a steady hand
But there are dark clouds over Clacton
And we’re still miles from land
They say there’s a new skipper at the helm
They say he takes things seriously
But there are dark clouds over Clacton
Troubling me
Dark clouds over Clacton
Dark clouds and a stormy sea
There are dark clouds over Clacton
Troubling me
They say that the day that you see the devil
He steals away a piece of your soul
Now the dark clouds over Clacton
Feel so cold
They say that the day that you see the devil
His laugh will never leave you be
Now there are dark clouds over Clacton
Troubling me
Dark clouds over Clacton
Dark clouds and a stormy sea
There are dark clouds over Clacton
Troubling me
They say that all we need is a fair wind
A fair wind and a following sea
But there are dark clouds over Clacton
Troubling me
I hear that it might have stopped raining
There’s finally some sun forecast
But there are dark clouds over Clacton
A break in the weather that may not last
Steve White & The Protest Family 