- Quarantine the Queen
- Cull the Herd
- A Period of Great Concern
- Bog Roll Billionaire
- Nudge
- The Lockdown
- Mother’s Day in the Johnson House
- Lockdown Limbo
- The List
- The Day the Penny Dropped
- Charlie’s Got the Virus
- Shut Down the Sites
- Mild Symptoms
- Tories Get Tests
- Dominic Ran Away
- A Government Strategy Meeting
- The Lockdown, Week Two
- Fly ‘Em Home
- Goats!
- Tell ‘Em We’ll Test ‘Em Tomorrow
- Nurses! Never Forget
- 59 Billionaires
- Bog Roll v. Guns
- Just Another Day in Quarantine
- He’s Going in for Tests
- The Lockdown, Week Three
- Pirate President Trump
- The Government Pecking Order
- Who Cares What Nigel Farage Says?
- Priti Patel
- Robert Jenrick
- He is Risen
- Jacob’s Making Money
- Priti Sorry
- What Did You Do in the Lockdown, Dad?
- Untitled (14th April 2020)
- Put Him on the Spot
- Matt Hancock’s Badge
- Today’s Press Conference: It’s Working
- Matt Hancock’s Magic Wand
- Captain Tom (Better Keep Walking)
- Quietly Terrified
- Boris Bunks Off
- News From Necker Island
- Dead Heroes Are No Use to Anyone
- Liverpool 2-3 Atletico Madrid
- Should I Be Wearing a Mask?
- The Bunnies, the Beagles, and You
- B&Q
- St. George’s Day 2020
- Sunshine and Disinfectant
- Jason and the Virus
- Corona Universe
- The Prime Minister Prepares to Return to Work
- Holding Your Breath
- Sixty Thousand Pounds
- Daily Press Briefing, 28th April 2020 (Matt Hancock)
- Baby Boris is Born
- Spaffer Fixes Bayonets
- Rachel on the Radio
- What’s Gonna Happen When the Clapping Stops?
- Are You Ready?
- The Sickest Man in Europe
- Professor Lockdown
- Matt Hancock’s NHS
- VE Day
- This is England
- Shut Up
- A New Slogan
- Too Little, and Just Not Enough
- Heigh-Ho
- Britain First Want Their Virus Back
- Daily Mail: Let Our Teachers Be Heroes
- Work Is Safe (Tell ‘Em)
- Where Is Mr. Johnson?
- Has Anybody Checked the Fridge?
- When Tories Clap
- Five Tests
- World Beating
- Swimming With Sharks
- Herd Immunity Cummings (Gets Caught Breaking the Rules)
- Dominic Ran Away (Again)
- 22 Days (Of Dither and Delay)
- A Daily Mail Poll
- Hey, Dido!
- Barbeque Season
- On Not Following the Science
- Professor Jonathan Van-Tam
- Derek
- Untitled (3rd June 2020)
- More on Masks
- Here’s the New Normal
- No More ‘Til September
- Another Day, Another Press Conference
- Iain Duncan Smith/Trail of Bodies
- A Statue of Boris Johnson
- The Rights of Dogs
- What Dowden Didn’t Say Yesterday
- Farmer Dom
- Trust
- Derek and the Germans
- Jason Gets the Call
- Johnson Has Washed His Hands
- Patient 91
- The Lockdown, Part Four
- Super Spreader Saturday
- Spaghetti Bolognese (A Very English Tea)
- Coronavirus 1-0 Bolsonaro
- My COVID Discount
- Should I Be Wearing a Mask? (You Had to Ask)
- A Masked Man Walks Into a Bar
- Should I Be Wearing a Mask? (July)
- Derek Won’t Wear a Mask
- Cassie Sunshine (Is Wearing a G-String on Her Face)
- Chingford to Oxford Circus via Walthamstow Central
- Don’t Cough Over Your Cat
- (Living Life on the Lookout For) A Second Wave
- Local Lockdowns, Part One
- Ayanda Capital
- They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?
- A Man With a Fascist Flag
- Should I Be Wearing a Mask? Part Six
- Untitled (7th September 2020)
- Has Hancock Lost Control?
- Ferrari’s Furlough Fraudsters
- The Under 21’s
- Operation Moonshot
- Tofu Bats and Tofu Pangolins
- The Rule of Six
- Ian, Noel and ‘Van
- Leyton Orient 0-19 COVID
- Facemasks at Half Mast
- Rishi Sunak (We Know a Song About You)
- Hands, Face, Pasty
- Will it End in Tiers?
- The Children of the First XV
- (Whatever Happened To) Jason and Joanna?
- This Ship is Lost at Sea
- Tear Down the Fence
- From World-Beating to Scraping the Play-Offs
- Cummings, Cain and Princess Nut-Nut
- Christmas Bubble Trouble
- On Substantiality and Scotch Eggs
- Williamson v. Ferrari: Brexit Gambit Declined
- Christmas With the Vulnerables
- An Eyeful of Nose
- Behave as if You Have the Virus
- The Golden-Haired Boy
- ‘Tis the Season to be Jolly Careful
- Right Bullets, Wrong Gun
- My Postie’s Being Bullied by Iain Duncan Smith
- According to Paul
- Jacob’s Fish are Happy Fish
- Cough Away
- Maxine and Henry
- A Million Pounds a Day
- One Zero Zero, Zero Zero Zero
- The Tory Party Donor Money-Go-Round
- Free Stuff Jesus
- Keith Likes It
- 3-0 Up
- Clap a Tory, Pay a Nurse
- A Trip to Mars
- Jason and Joanna: Vaccine Wars
- A Minute’s Silence
- Capitalism and Greed
- Respect
- Spaffed
- Colin the COVID Cat
- Let the Bodies Pile High
- For Hug’s Sake
- The State of the Opening of Parliament
- Kick It ‘Til It Breaks
- Hancock, the Care Home Killer
- Killing People’s Okay, But Kissing Them Isn’t
- Today, I’m Singing
- Nikki Minaj’s Cousin’s Friend’s Testicles
- Oh, Micron!
- Barbara’s on the Radio
- Plan B
- Dead Cats, Reverse Ferrets
- The Day They Cancelled Christmas
- Dear Mr. Johnson
- Sue Gray
- Operation Save Big Dog
- Spaffer Bodycount
- Whose Rules?
- Investigation Into Alleged Gatherings On Government Premises During Covid Restrictions – Update
- When Is It Over?
- Stealth Omicron
- The King of Lockdown
Category: poetry
Hancock, the Care Home Killer
Hancock, the Care Home Killer
Says he’s saving lives
While Barnard Castle Cummings
Is sharpening his knives
To no avail, as nothing sticks
To the Teflon Tory
Who’s taken his tricks
To Westminster Cathedral, no less
To marry number three, Carrie
(I hear you’re a Catholic now, father)
But, I digress
Hancock, the Care Home Killer
Who connived
To send the virus into care homes
But said that he was saving lives
Continues to tell lies
As Cummings’ evidence provides
So when all this is over, don’t forget
Even as the statue of Boris Johnson’s getting wet
That the ministerial hand upon that tiller
Belonged to Hancock, the Care Home Killer
The State of the Opening of Parliament
She’s in the Daimler, not the gold carriage of state,
While the million-pound hat is in separate freight,
Pulling in through the Westminster palace gate.
It’s Black Rod’s big day out.
Where they always slam the door in her face
Before she bangs it thrice with her staff (not her mace)
To summon the Commons to the other place
To hear what this term’s all about.
These days, the crown’s heavy on the royal head
So, it’s relegated to a cushion instead
While the Queen’s speech sets out the year ahead
And new laws for those hereabout.
My Lords, she says, and you commoner lot,
My government would like to buy me a yacht,
But while the pandemic remains a blot
They’d best leave that bit out.
So, my government (led by that chap with the hair)
Will promise that the recovery’s fair,
While remaining silent on the social care
They reckon you can do without.
And my government’s Procurement Bill
Will make their contracts easier still
For the likes of Hancock’s mates to fulfil
When they’re in need of a handout.
My government will not require
Employers to desist from fire and rehire.
It’s enough to make a prince perspire,
The stuff that they’ve left out.
The state of the opening of Parliament
Where the Queen sets out Spaffer’s intent
In the gaps between what’s said and what’s meant.
It’s Black Rod’s big day out.
Chingford residents News
“They’re a different type of immigrant,” says Jean,
“They’re not here to graft, to care, to cook or clean.”
“They’re smuggled here for profit,”
“And someone ought to stop it.”
“Our tiny island’s full,” she vents her spleen.
And Barbara chimes, “They’re all illegal too.”
“Not behaving like the genuine ones would do.”
“We don’t want the ones like these,”
“In their virus-ridden dinghies.”
Her vote, you guess, is a Priti, Tory blue.
The hardened hearts of Chingford all refer,
To the Mail Online and Johnson’s veiled slur
On London’s current mayor,
Makes you wonder and despair
What type of immigrant they think his parents were.
And if you really must read the article in the Mail Online….
An Old Man Dies
The woman in the million-pound hat
Lost her husband.
I’m sure she’s sad about that.
I mean,
He started courting her
When she was thirteen.
Thirteen?!
Well, it was different then,
Men could be men,
And have fascist chums,
And shoot tigers with guns.
And wealth and privilege allowed him
To not grow up with the world around him,
Which he toured, by yacht and by jet
Being racist to many of the folk he met
Who won’t be sorry that his race is run
And won’t be tuning in to BBC1.
Wankers or Ducks
Wankers or ducks?
I know who I’d rather see
In the fountain at Trafalgar Square.
And if Horatio turned his blind eye to slavery,
I know I’d also rather see
A duck up there.
Capitalism and Greed
“We’ll make fortunes, I bet,” Capitalism said.
“Agreed,” said Greed.
“At every step there’ll be a contract to be let.”
“Let them to me,” said Greed.
“I’ve no experience of health or PPE,
But I’ll make big donation to the Tory party.”
“Let’s make a Covid killing,” Capitalism said.
And Greed agreed.
“The usual arrangement?” Capitalism said.
“Agreed,” said Greed.
“Obscure procurement rules unashamedly bent?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Greed.
“Don’t worry if we make a mess,
We’ll just make out that it was the NHS.”
“Let’s make a Covid killing,” Capitalism said.
And Greed agreed.
“They’ve already laid the ground,” Capitalism said.
“Just what we need,” said Greed.
“To make a pretty penny off a pandemic pound.”
“They’re just like me,” said Greed.
“A bag of rocks in a suit with a mop on the top
Will help make sure that we profit from the lot.”
“Let’s make a Covid killing,” Capitalism said.
And Greed agreed.
A Minute’s Silence
A minute’s silence, a Union Jack,
A press conference, a doorstep clap.
A doorstep clap, a Union Jack
A press conference, a road map.
A road map, a Union Jack
A how many vaccines today recap.
A vaccine recap, a Union Jack
A minute’s silence, a doorstep clap.
A doorstep clap, a vaccine recap,
A minute’s silence, a Union Jack;
Won’t bring all those people back.
The Princess and the Presenter
Promoting her show bought her a stalker
A breakfast programme professional talker
Who’d say “Not all men” while just the sort
Who’d hack kids’ phones and not get caught
Thought he should have a princess, by right
On account of being rich, male and white
But she married her prince and left him a frog
And his mid-life crush, a one-sided dialogue
As she quite rightly saw fit to ignore
His emails, text messages and more
But Hell hath no fury like the male gaze scorned
And he’d met Epstein, she should’ve been warned
That the gutter press is his dominion
And trial in the court of public opinion
His stock in trade, where he took up arms
To do her reputation just as much harm
As he could, thinking only of himself
While claiming she was lying about her mental health
A step too far for ITV
As he parted company with GMB
But just wait for the “I’ve been cancelled” cry
As he gives his career another try
On a new opinion-led news station
Serving blinkered news to a blinkered nation
Where opinion is often fuelled by hate
And despite the facts given equal weight
Where like minds will give the airtime
To his “She ghosted me” incel whine
So, prepare to boycott that news organ
And let’s have a curfew for Piers Morgan
(There’s a lot of him about)
Something’s Got to Change
If not all men are rapists
And not all whites are racists
Why’s the loudest shouting out
Far too much of what about
And not enough of something’s got to change?
Because if not all men are rapists
And not all whites are racist
Then they should actually say this
That some of us are racists
And some of us are rapists
And something round here has got to change.
Steve White & The Protest Family 