Barbara says it’s none of Nick’s business Barbara says it’s her personal choice Barbara’s ringing up the radio Barbara says both sides need a voice
Barbara’s annoyed that Santa got the vaccine Barbara’s mad at Tesco’s Christmas ad Barbara’s ringing up the radio Barbara thinks that we’ve all been had
Barbara doesn’t wear a seatbelt Barbara doesn’t always turn the lights on Barbara’s ringing up the radio Barbara thinks that the science is wrong
Barbara’s careful what she puts in her body Barbara’s ringing up to have a go Barbara’s a bacon-eating anti-vaxxer And Barbara’s ringing up the radio
Not oh-my-cron, little o But ommi-cron, I don’t know Why it should be so, but The alphabet deflects damnation From the variant’s home nation And nu could be confused with new And xi could be confusing too, But Johnson called it omnicron And that is definitely wrong.
Meanwhile Coach JVT Says we’re picking up injury And a yellow card or three. So, to avoid sending offs With persistent coughs He’s bringing on the booster shots And masking up in all the shops And trains and buses, at the stops Unlike his cavalier boss.
But transport’s one thing And shops are another While pubs and restaurants Don’t have to bother. If it’s personal responsibility What happens in hospitality Ain’t the fault of their strategy. “No sir, not us at all!” When it’s all spaffed up the wall.
Now they’re bringing in the army, Calling up the volunteers, Rolling up their sleeves Like antiviral engineers. They haven’t cancelled Christmas (That would be bad for business) Although there have been whispers. Not oh micron, but omicron What could possibly go wrong?
Did you ever while away a childhood hour Imagining your very own superpower? But never able to scratch that itch ‘Cos superpower’s reserved for the super-rich
Batman’s a toff, the stuff he’s got Bet he don’t pay tax on half that lot But if the city upped the ante And binned the vigilante They could fund the GCPD Properly (Commissioner Gordon would be proud)
Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system
Ironman’s a toff, the stuff he’s got Bet he don’t pay tax on half that lot ‘Cos Stark Industries’ A monopoly With sights on the whole defence Industry (He’s got a military industrial complex)
Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system
Andrew’s a toff, the stuff he’s got Livin’ off tax paid by you lot Touches who he wants With impunity ‘Cos his superpower’s unaccountability (On account of his mum being Queen)
Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system
Our superpower’s sharing, our superpower’s caring Our superpower’s looking out for one another Our superpower’s sharing, our superpower’s caring Our superpower’s looking out for one another
Jacob’s a toff, the stuff he’s got Bet he don’t pay tax on half that lot His hedge fund’s laughin’ While other folk are starvin’ His superpower’s alarming, while his wealth he’s guarding (He just doesn’t see poor people)
Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system
Hand over the keys to the Batmobile Built by our labour of hand and brain And hand over the iron suit too We don’t want to see your superhero arses round here again
Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system Superheroes, supervillains, they’re just products of the system
If it’s 5-1 down at half-time And one minute to midnight, Then this metaphorical football match Is not in Glasgow tonight. It’s in Russia or Malaysia Or elsewhere in Asia Or Western Australia. And now he’s introduced a Bond-style doomsday device Are you guessing his advice Is doomed to failure? Because COP Number One didn’t get it done, Nor did COP Number Two (’96 in Geneva). The Kyoto protocol did pretty much sod all As a reducing greenhouse gas emission lever. And that was COP3, COP4 had little clout, And COPs 5 to 12 did nothing to write home about. COP 13 said refocus on CO2. COP 14 said give technology to developing economies And COP15, in Copenhagen, said that too. COP16 did little to convince As CO2 levels have risen ever since, And the treaty promised by COP17 Was never seen. So much for green. COP18 in Doha, didn’t get very far, And COP19 had little clout, when nearly everyone walked out. COP20 was in Lima, Peru, And nobody remembers what they resolved to do. The COP21 Paris Agreement said Forget CO2, let’s target temperature instead. COP22 did nothing new, Nor did COP23, actually, And COP24 also did no more. While COP25 in Madrid Just said and did what the others all said and did. So, what’s your aspiration for COP26? With metaphor faffing, Up the wall spaffing, Johnson between the sticks.
It’s 2021, and we’re still paying the price As once again enforcement just becomes advice We’re used to Tories doing things that really ain’t that nice But this one, I must admit, came as a surprise
‘Cos they’re shitting in the rivers and they’re shitting in the sea George Eustice reckons it’s okay, environmentally So, if you’re heading for your local spot to take a pleasant dip Remember, like the Tories it’s just full of shit
Raw sewage at the seaside isn’t very nice So, there’s a handy sign up to give you this advice You should keep your mouth and nose closed and best shut your eyes too ‘Cos your Tory MP voted for you to bathe in poo
They’re shitting in the rivers and they’re shitting in the sea They’re shitting on the likes of you and the likes of me So, if your heading for your local spot to take a pleasant dip Remember, like the Tories it’s just full of shit
In the absence of all reason they put it to the vote To throw shit into the rivers to float amongst the boats Two hundred and fifty Tories put their hands up for the right To fill your local waterway up with shite
They’re shitting in the rivers and they’re shitting in the sea They’re shitting on the likes of you and the likes of me So, if your heading for your local spot to take a pleasant dip Remember, like the Tories it’s just full of shit
She pulled him out of the river Fed him, clothed him, found him a home
Cos pulling folk out the river Is the only way she’s ever known
She pulls him out of the river And tomorrow she’ll pull him out again She pulls him out of the river But she’ll never meet the bastards That keep throwing him in
Keep throwing him in
She pulls them out of the river Without ever asking from where they’ve come
Fishing souls out the river And some days her day’s work is never done
She pulls him out of the river And tomorrow she’ll pull him out again She pulls him out of the river But she’ll never meet the bastards That keep throwing him in
Keep throwing him in
She’s fishing souls out the river Seems that’s the way it’s always been
While the soulless bastards in government Keep throwing them in
She pulls him out of the river And tomorrow she’ll pull him out again She pulls him out of the river But she’ll never meet the bastards That keep throwing him in
Keep throwing him in
She’s fishing souls out the river Seems that’s the way it’s always been While the soulless bastards in government Keep throwing us in Keep throwing us in Keep throwing us in
From Glasgow Southside to Southend West, A crusader, invader of mosques and the rest, A patriot, self-confessed, A racist, no less, self-obsessed, Contests Elections. So she can advocate, give weight And seek a mandate for her hate. Her will to aggravate and alienate Does not abate. It’s gross, The violent intolerance that she promotes, In red top quotes, One hopes Will get no votes.
He still eats meat five days a week And runs his car on cheese and wine, Owns two hundred square miles of land And several droves of rarest swine. He’s waited on around the clock On hand and foot and royal cock, From royal shoe to royal sock And royal boxer to royal jock. He married the nation’s sweetheart Then walked his mate’s wife up the aisle, He was mates with Jimmy Savile And his brother is a paedophile.
He still eats meat five days a week And runs his car on cheese and wine, Owns homes that thousands of others live in And lets the rents just climb and climb. He’s waited on around the clock On hand and foot and royal cock, By valets who express no shock At some duties that most might knock. His brother is a paedophile His uncle even worse, it’s said. He runs his car on cheese and wine; Like all the rest, off with his head.
It’s all going to change down at Mel Park; They haven’t done the double since ’72. Now next season’s home kit will be all black And the players will all sport beards too.
‘Cos the Taliban have bought Melchester Rovers, The Premier League said they’re fit and proper, The fans trust that they’re guaranteed results, Or Roy Race’s other foot might come a cropper.
Yes, the Taliban have bought Melchester Rovers, “It’s not a sportswash,” a spokesperson said, “To want legitimacy on primetime TV, You could have had Sports Direct instead.”
Now some of the crowd are on the pitch, Celebrating the arrival of their new owners, ‘Cos the Premier League said that they’re fit and proper And the Taliban have bought Melchester Rovers.
Today’s new word is hecatomb. He wears these words like a costume While answering the unasked question, A simple politician’s deception, A poorly executed misdirection. “I hate to break it to you, Andrew, That it does involve killing a lot of animals.” The same blithe confidence Of the grim Covid press conference. He’ll probably say “Alas,” in a minute.
Elsewhere, Loder hails the return Of a mythical 1950’s high street. A collapsing supply chain he discerns Frees a nation of shopkeepers From the shackles of the supermarkets And returns a simpler, and fictional, way of life. You sense he forgets several owners Are considerable Tory party donors.
Back to Marr, and the PM’s position: It was simply the people’s decision. The crisis in haulage Never his fault It’s the industry failing to wonder The extent of the government’s blunder. The message of this conference a very simple one They were never here to fix it, just to get it done.
Steve White & The Protest Family 