I’ll swear no oath to kings and queens
The primacy of royal genes
I’ll pledge allegiance to my class
The King can kiss my worker’s arse
Category: poetry
Most People
The council haven’t put up any bunting
The local Tories are running amuck
The coronation! We must be doing something
But most people really couldn’t give a fuck
You can apply to close your street for a party
Undisturbed by car, van, or truck
To celebrate the crowning of King Charlie
But most people really couldn’t give a fuck
There’s a union jack outside the butchers
Where he sells patriots their beef, lamb and duck
But he might as well be flogging fishless fingers
Because most people really couldn’t give a fuck
An extra day off work? Well, who wouldn’t?
Courtesy of newly crowned King Chuck
But don’t take it as some kind of endorsement
Because most people really couldn’t give a fuck
Drizzling the King with special magic oil
From an eagle-shaped bottle, just for luck
An archbishop and a golden spoon
Honestly, we couldn’t give a fuck
Kings and Queens
Kings and queens are all, it seems
We need to keep food on our plate
Kings and queens and Heinz Baked Beans*
And golden carriages of state
Kings and queens are all, it seems
We need to keep us warm and fed
Kings and queens and Heinz Baked Beans
And Tory Warburtons sliced bread**
So, boo to cost of living crisis
Boo to rising staple prices
Hurrah for Charlie and Camilla
Beans on toast again for dinner
*Well, you’ve got to have standards
**Other bread is available
Crowdfund the Coronation
Crowdfund the coronation
Don’t pay for it from our taxation
If you support the celebration
Then you can make a small donation
Crowdfund the coronation
But make it so that each donation
Ticks a box to just make sure
You’d rather not give to the poor
Crowdfund the coronation
Don’t pay for it from our taxation
Of which we’re told there’s such a dearth
We can’t pay nurses what they’re worth
Crowdfund the coronation
And if folk need some motivation
A celebrity-packed one day’s TV
Can raise some cash for kings in need
Crowdfund the coronation
Crowdfund the whole damn operation
The nation then with one accord
Will have the royals they can afford
Stop the Boats
Diddy Rishi Dastardly’s petard will soon be hoist
“Yes General”, he says to the off-screen muffled voice
But Zilly’s done a runner, he thinks Rwanda isn’t fair
And Klunk has got a legal plan that hasn’t got a prayer
While Dastardly just wants the Vulture Squadron in the air
‘Cause Yankee Doodle Refugee will lose him Red Wall votes
While Muttley snickers “medal”, he’s crying “Stop the boats!”
Resignation Honours
What the fuck are resignation honours
Can they be bought with foreign dollars
Or are they just for a certain type of cad
Like the ex-PM’s wife-beating dad
With form for familial awards
Having put his brother in the House of Lords
If we’re to let him have his way
Then their post-nominals all should say
KBTW, BJ
Displayed proudly by their name
Arise, Sir Stanley, Lord of Wrong ‘Un
Knighted by that wanker, Boris Johnson
Vote Tomatoes, Get Turnips
There’s too much choice these days, says Thérèse
Vote tomatoes, get turnips
We’re not to blame for the rain in Spain
Vote tomatoes, get turnips
Cherish specialism, not pessimism
Vote tomatoes, get turnips
The bill’s too high for your local supply
Vote tomatoes, get turnips
Fruit and veg ration is the latest fashion
Vote tomatoes, get turnips
And it’s nothing to do with leaving the EU
Vote tomatoes, get turnips
Willy’s at the Foodbank
Willy’s at the foodbank
Polishing the brand
Stepping from the Range Rover
With nothing in his hand
Kate is in a pink coat
Willy’s jumper’s green
They’ve brought a photographer
They’re here to be seen
Willy’s at the foodbank
Chatting to the staff
Kate is sorting out the tins
They’re both having a laugh
Like this is all so normal
This whip round for the poor
With his green-jumpered patronage
And the pink coat that she wore
Willy’s at the foodbank
And no one’s going to say
That they never used to need
A foodbank round this way
Kate is in a pink coat
Willy’s jumper’s green
While the folk who use the foodbank
Are neither heard nor seen
‘Cause some of them are nurses
And that would never do
The Prince bestowing loaves of bread
When claps would surely do
They’ve brought a photographer
To keep the image clean
Kate is in a pink coat
And Willy’s jumper’s green
Virtual Wards
She’s on a virtual ward
In a virtual hospital
She saw a virtual doctor
On a video call
She said your virtual op
Will just have to wait
Theatre virtually
Always runs late
She got a virtual ambulance
All the way down the stairs
No virtual paramedic, though
In virtual care
She’s in a virtual hospital
Under a virtual team
They promised us forty
Just not virtually
She’s on a virtual ward
Receiving virtual care
From a virtual government
That virtually doesn’t
New Year’s Honours
Stephen Graham OBE
Virginia McKenna from Born Free
Brian May, well he was in Queen
Dara McNulty, the naturalist teen
Four Lionesses but not the others
Two dead kids’ campaigning mothers
Lissie Harper for law reforming
Rachel Riley who hated Corbyn
Ivan Menezes for running a company
Like Johnny Boden CBE
Over half the honours still go to blokes
Frank Skinner got one for telling jokes
All summoned to Empire by royal shout-out
Inside the tent now, pissing out
Steve White & The Protest Family 