Category: poetry

A King’s Inheritance

He inherits the title
Inherits the land
Inherits police
Who with firm hand
Remove any protest
At his quick accession
There’ll be no dissent
At this royal procession

He inherits the title
Inherits the power
The proceeds of empire
His to devour
He inherits the poor
The homeless, the weak
Whose faith in the monarch
Is honest but bleak

He inherits the title
Inherits the wealth
To him it’s tax-free
As they sing to his health
Happy and glorious
God save the King
He doesn’t owe you
A damn fucking thing

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Respect, Obey (The Suppression of Protest)

They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
Their royal bones are on display
Respect, obey them sat on thrones
Respect, obey their royal bones

They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
Hold fast your stones
Now’s not the day
Now’s not the day, hold fast your stones
Respect, obey their royal bones
They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey

They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
Their royal bones are on display
The speaker drones, respect, obey
Hold fast your stones, now’s not the day
Respect, obey their royal bones
They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey

They’re sat on thrones
Respect, obey
The speaker drones, respect, obey
The priest intones, respect, obey
The pauper groans
Respect, obey
Hold fast your stones, now’s not the day
Their royal bones are on display
Their royal bones
They’re sat on thrones
Now’s not the day
Respect, obey

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They Sang God Save the Queen

She used her wealth and privilege to bring an end to poverty
When George Floyd died she led the nation when they took the knee
She made the toffs stop hunting
The foxes hung out bunting
She even stopped the Tories from shitting in the sea

She used her wealth and privilege to pay the nation’s power bill
And made an NHS fit for a queen if she fell ill
She closed food banks by the score
‘Cause they weren’t needed any more
And left the royal parks to the commons in her will

She used her wealth and privilege to make equality routine
She said this nation has no use for a nuclear submarine
She gave back all the loot
Gained in colonial pursuit
And when she died they dried their eyes and sang God Save The Queen

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Spin To Win

Spin To Win with Phil and Holly
Losers freeze, how very jolly

Spin To Win with Holly and Phil
They may pick up your energy bill

Spin To Win with Phil and Holly
This Morning Hunger Games, by golly

Spin To Win with hopes and prayers
Amuse the TV millionaires

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Spaffer Bids Farewell to Downing Street

He’s thanking the dog and the cat
It’s leaving speech part two or three
The cat ain’t even his
The cat’s still got a key

He’s thanking the dog and the cat
Like the cat could give a fuck
He’s making a list of achievements
He’s making most of it up

He’s thanking the dog and the cat
The cat’s just shrugged it off
It’s his last day in Downing Street
Bye bye, farewell, fuck off

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Tesco

Do they want the pub boarded up?
Do they want the chip shop shut?
Who’ll bake the bread when the baker’s bust?
In the high street they let turn to dust

You’re gonna have to go to Tesco
Get a couple of cans to go
They want you to go to Tesco
Tesco’s where they want you to go

When you’re keeping warm in the library
Or the café with a two-hour cup of coffee
‘Til you need to leave this table, sorry
That’s not where they want you to be

They want you to go to Tesco
Tesco’ll have their gas bill dough
They want you to go to Tesco
Tesco’s where they want you to go

A nation of shopkeepers shutting up shop
When the gas price rises just won’t stop
And the Government’s asleep at the wheel
Tell me, how does it feel

When all that’s left is to go to Tesco
Like it used to be but somehow less so
They want you to go to Tesco
Tesco’s where they want you to go

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A Lift to the Food Bank From Iain Duncan Smith

I got a lift to the food bank from Iain Duncan Smith
Driving a vintage British sports car
A Morgan Plus Four powered by a German engine
Goes from nought to Brexit in under sixty seconds
“I say” he said to me “Fine day for a spin”
“Isn’t the food bank just a wonderful thing”
“And now there’s even more of them than ever”

He had the radio tuned to LBC
A phone-in about prices
And the cost-of-living crisis
He said “We’ll have to suck it up, I’m afraid”
“It’s not our fault there’s a war in Ukraine”
“And I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s a price worth paying.”
As we passed the war memorial
And poppies on the road signs
I tried to say that his opinion probably wasn’t mine
But with the top down he missed what I was saying

I got a lift to the foodbank from Iain Duncan Smith
Driving a vintage British sports car
With a manual gearbox (sovereignty over transmission)
And an active exhaust in full hot air position
So how come he happened to be going my way?
Well, that’s where you’ll find all his constituents these days

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Liz and the Button

Liz is ready to press the button
And usher in global annihilation
It’s an important duty, says she
I see it as an expectation

Liz is ready to press the button
It’s on her list of things to do
It’s a way to fix the climate crisis
And sort your gas bill woes out too

Liz is ready to press the button
Fearlessly without hesitation
A step up from a selfie in a tank
Here’s me with the tools of obliteration

Liz is ready to press the button
And Vlad’s alert level just went up
Is mutually assured destruction
What they meant by levelling up?

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Tommy, Who Told Lies and Ended Up Back in Jail

(With apologies to Hillaire Belloc)

Tommy told such dreadful lies
It made one gasp and stretch one’s eyes

His followers, racist and uncouth
With scant regard for actual truth
Attempted to believe young Tommy
Wanted to keep sending money

And would have done so, had not he
Lied about her Majesty’s
Pleasure when he went to court
Showing off the pack he brought

‘My prison bag’, Tommy proclaimed
But later, as it was explained
At worst, he’d only get a fine
And had invented prison time

The grift exposed, to say the least
But Tommy had not said his piece
‘My lawyer, and I need the best’
‘Needs paying, and I can’t’, he stressed

His fans from near and far dug deep
Knowing counsel won’t come cheap
But were inevitably dismayed
To find that Tom had Legal Aid

One day soon, his time will come
And Tommy this time square undone
When more funds he seeks to acquire
But fascist chums cry ‘Little Liar!’

And he’s sentenced to a lengthy stint
Locked up once more, and also skint

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Audrey vs. Sir Kier

Witchfinder Sir Kier coming round here
Coming round here with his column in The Sun
With his political flies undone
Coming round here to prosecute a witch hunt
Coming round here he’s got some front

Witchfinder Sir Kier coming round here
Coming round here frayed at the edges
Coming round here breaking his pledges
Coming round here with his Tory stripes
Coming round here not supporting the strikes

Witchfinder Sir Kier coming round here
Coming round here distanced from ideas
Abandoning our health to Tory donors and peers
Coming round here misunderstanding our community
Coming round here spreading disunity

Witchfinder Sir Kier coming round here
And if you criticise him you’ll be out on your ear

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