Safer in a war zone
Than strolling round his own home
Spaffer’s on walkabout in Ukraine
He really has a talent
For reputation management
A cock-up covering caper once again
But if he has a second
He should take a trip to Yemen
And watch British bombs being dropped by British planes
Or if he’s of a mind
Walkabout in Palestine
And contemplate their sovereign state claim
‘Cause if he’s safer in a war zone
Than strolling round his own home
There’s lots of war for him to try and game
There’s a gender-neutral toilet in our house
Like the one on a plane
And the one on a train
Like getting caught short in the woods in the rain.
There’s a gender-neutral toilet in our house
So politically correct
What did you expect
One or more types from which to select?
There’s a gender-neutral toilet in our house
How outré
To piss that way
What would the second world war generation say?
Who didn’t have a gender-neutral toilet in their house
Not because of pride
Or of bigotry implied
But because their gender-neutral toilet was outside
When is it over?
It’s over today
What on earth do you mean, said he
She said, it’s not gone away
But it’s over today
Because tests are no longer free
As a fool once said
In the time that he led
If you don’t look, then you won’t see
So, it’s over today
Without going away
Because tests are no longer free
Gangster government for gangster bosses
Cutting their losses
With jobs and rights
Gangster government for gangster firms
Ripping up terms
To DP’s delight
Gangster governments for gangster companies
P&O Ferries
It ain’t alright
Gangster government’s crocodile tears
As it appears
They knew that night
Gangster government’s Brittania Unchained
Holds workers in disdain
That’s the Tory right
Gangster government for gangster oligarchs
Swimming with the sharks
Forgetting that they bite
Gangster government for gangster lobbies
Ignoring the bodies
With indifferent spite
His Royal Highness
Dressed to oppress
In his brightest whitest colonial best
Atop a Land Rover owned by Queen Bess
Says I feel sorrow about the slaves
I feel so sorry you feel that way
Britannia rules the waves
He owns The Grapes, The Evening Standard, a collection of modern art
He owns the i and The Independent, although the Saudis now own part
He had a pet wolf called Boris, named after Yeltsin, they say
He owns a house in the grounds of Hampton Court Palace, and is a Baron of down that way
Yes, he’s the Baron of Hampton, in Richmond-upon-Thames
Because he counts Boris Johnson amongst his friends
(Who overruled concerns about security)
And his dad used to be in the KGB
Derek’s boycotting the meerkats
He’s stopped drinking Smirnoff and Coke
He’d never been one for the ballet anyway
He’s never been quite that woke
He’s boycotting Baltika Lager too
Since they stopped selling it in the ‘Spoons
But watching Chelsea on Sky’s okay
Since they split with their Russian tycoons
His missus has got Chicken Kyiv for tea
And told him not to call it Kiev
She should stay out of Holland and Barrett too
At least that’s what the neighbours said
Apparently, their dish gets Russian telly
On the news they called it RT
Derek says it’s alright to just not watch it
If it came with the other channels free
He’s got a knock-off Ukraine football top
Off a bloke with a market stall
And a flag but he’s not sure he’ll fly it
It’s no cross of St. George, after all
He’s a fan of a plucky Ukrainian, mind
He likes it that they’ll stay and fight
Not like them channel dinghy Syrians
Flooding in day and night
It’s not like there’s room in this country
Some fruit picking, but that’s about it
Derek’s boycotting the meerkats
Derek’s doing his bit
Armchair generals
Firing other people’s bullets
With other people’s sons
Express sympathy
With the refugee
Who would be welcome here
If they weren’t such a risk to national insecurity
And Lincolnshire is full, says Leigh
Even if they’re willing to pick fruit
What has Liz’s dressing-up box
Got for us today?
Fighter pilot? Tank commander?
Recruiter for La Légion étrangère?
She’s unlikely to dress to protest
Or to campaign against the war
That’s what the other lot are for
The Minister for Instagram will give up glam
But only for a message of might
She wants you to fight
Don’t let her tell you that it’s simple
While the policy to sanction
Fails to seize a single yacht or mansion
Despite the fighting talk
Trying to be the hawkest hawk
It’s easier to call to arms
Than boycott wealthy friends
As a wise man once said
A bayonet is a weapon
With a worker at both ends
There are tanks at the gates of the city
And in the fear that their presence breeds
Stands a woman confronting the soldiers
Handing out sunflower seeds
This is my city, she tells them
And in this city, we all may die
So, know when you fall for your master’s glory
A sunflower will grow where you lie
There are tanks at the gates of the city
And in the still that all soldiers know
Lies the ground upon which many will fall
And one day sunflowers will grow
Spaffer’s on a war footing
Above criticism
Posing for pictures in a fighter plane
Spaffer’s on a war footing
Forget Partygate
It’s war for political advantage
Again
Spaffer’s on a war footing
Appearing Churchillian
When he closes his eyes
To better fantasise
Spaffer’s on a war footing
God help us
It wouldn’t be the first time the bodies piled high
Steve White & The Protest Family 