Top 10’s in 2021

Top 10 Blog Posts of 2021

We thought that Dear Mr. Johnson might make a late run at it, or even The Day They Cancelled Christmas, but the winner is the ode to the playthings of the super-rich, inspired, at least in part, by Jeff Bezos’ thanks to the shoppers and workers at Amazon for paying for his nearly-into-space jaunt. The surprise entry at number 2 is, we think, down to people searching for positive stories about anti-vaxxer Cassie; an algorithm win for us then. Good to see people still remembering our mate Chris too.

  1. Pricks in Space
  2. Cassie Sunshine (Is Wearing a G-string on Her Face)
  3. Daily Mail: Let Our Teachers Be Heroes
  4. My Postie’s Being Bullied by Iain Duncan Smith
  5. Jason & Joanna: Vaccine Wars
  6. Cough Away
  7. Chris Parsons RIP
  8. One Zero Zero, Zero Zero Zero
  9. Knock, Knock!
  10. Right Bullets, Wrong Gun

Top 10 YouTube Videos of 2021

It seems that Orient fans are still obsessed with the owner who nearly killed the club, or maybe they’re just fans of lists of managers and Christmas harmonies. Nice to see that Brisbane Road continues to have a loyal following (as does Sean Thornton) and good showings from the three Lockdown Singles Club releases.

  1. The 12 Days of Becchetti
  2. The Side of the Fox
  3. Air Miles Andy
  4. Brisbane Road
  5. A Statue of Boris Johnson
  6. 46 Fascists
  7. Cassie Sunshine (Is Wearing a G-string on Her Face)
  8. Let the Bodies Pile High
  9. Rivers of Shit
  10. Sean Thornton

Top 10 Bandcamp Plays of 2021

Songs from The debased street music of the vulgar proved popular along with live favourite God Save the Queen’s Speech. Interesting to see both versions of Where Tina Goes in the list; we always said it would be a hit.

  1. Donald’s in Town
  2. God Save the Queen’s Speech
  3. Han Solo
  4. Have a Word
  5. The Side of the Fox
  6. Where Tina Goes (Debased Street Music)
  7. Tag Team Time
  8. Home Rule for Awesomestow
  9. From the Euro to the Pound
  10. Where Tina Goes (Snowflake)

But tell us, what were your favourites?


The right bullets miss,
Fired from the wrong gun,
When getting it done
Is just a slogan,
While the Tories are taking the piss,
‘Cos my postie’s being bullied by Iain Duncan Smith
While Jacob only cares about happy Brexit fish.
Priti says nothing, set to rhyme;
For Maxine and Henry, it’s vaccine time
While Dido spaffs a million pounds a day,
Every day.
And while “Now is not the time,” is the schtick,
The blood on Johnson’s hands reaches one hundred thousand thick

More sleaze exposures of Tory donors
’Cos when you say, “Pandemic” they say, “Profit”,
If there’s a healthcare contract,
Their mates have got it,
Makes you want to vomit.
And the deaths of heroes and friends brings it all home.
Air Miles Andy takes flight,
Spaffer reveals a roadmap for Keith to like,
And, aware of the cost,
Van Tam warns a 3-0 game is there to be lost.

Space rockets, Mars Bar economics,
Stalker Morgan stomping off the telly,
The opening salvos in the vaccine wars,
Where Jason’s ready, and Joanna’s not ready.
And Johnson says capital and greed
Are all your vaccine rollout needs,
Keeping a compliant nation in check
With clapping, silences, flags and respect,
And despite racial disparity and affairs again,
Marks his own homework: ten out of ten.
This tactic of just telling whoppers
Also adopted by the Clapham vigil coppers.

The wrong fox ran for Mayor.
A Harrods Tommy Robinson,
Didn’t get far, to be fair,
And ducks in the fountain at Trafalgar Square
Don’t care who’s the statue up there.
Lauded for bravery,
Blind to the slavery.
A racist old man pops his clogs
And were supposed to mourn because
His missus wears a million-pound hat
And owns that, and that, and that, and that,
While the leader of the country cries
“Let the bodies pile high”.

In Chingford they prefer Priti Patel
To a refugee from a war-torn land.
At least in Glasgow Southside
Jayda Fransen had to talk to the hand.
The Queen sanctions Parliament to carry on shrugging
As the PM cautiously sanctions hugging.
So, when all this is over
And we’re mourning our family and friends,
We’re gonna build a statue of Boris Johnson
And chuck it straight in the Thames.

Hancock walks
When he gets caught
Snogging his bird
When it should have occurred
That in an environment so parliamentary
There’s bound to be some CCTV,
And someone will leak it while his hand’s off the tiller
Because they won’t forget that he’s the Care Home Killer,
While Southgate shows what leadership should be
As his Euro 2020 team take the knee.

Eat out to help out:
Well, that went well
Wear a mask without being asked, and don’t lose your sense of smell.
New rules for pubs but it never gets rammed
In the New Rose and Crown, the pub of the damned.
Derek won’t wear one, he’d rather be dead,
And Cassie wears a G-string on her face instead.
A trip to Oxford Circus for a plasma donation,
A Covid threat to the cats of this nation,
And Jason, never brave,
Scans the horizon for a second wave.

Still singing in August
And trying to understand
What just happened in Afghanistan,
While at home the mess that Brexit makes
Means there no milk for shakes
And no chicken for your tea
If you’re the type that likes them fried in a KFC.
(Personally, that’s not for me
To feast on the grease
Of the recently deceased).

If you’re a woman and a Texan
The control of your own body ban
Makes your rights are as poor as in Taliban Afghanistan.
Meanwhile, in our own nation,
You can get a CBE for a substantial donation.
The levers of the machine that you must lube
Being operated by the squeezer of Charlie’s toothpaste tube.
And chat show hosts are talking bollocks,
And Nikki Minaj is talking bollocks,
Carbon dioxide makers are despondent
And Phil McCann’s a fuel crisis correspondent.
It’s all going toilet rolls again.
So, if you’re looking for a world that’s fair
You’ll need to understand that there’s no halfway there.

Butcher Johnson, sometime author,
Counsels Marr on porcine slaughter.
Says, “I hate to break it to you,”
“That pigs must die to be your food”.
Misunderstanding, deliberately,
That there’s no bacon for his tea
Because the workers in the abattoir,
Most recruited from afar,
Alas, have stayed at home.
While Prince Charles, himself the owner of swine,
Runs his posh car on cheese and wine.
The Saudis buy Newcastle,
No sportswash here,
The sovereign wealth fund’s
Intentions seem clear.
Yeah, right.
Jayda will try it on again,
This time in Southend.
Let’s hope the Essex voter sees through
Her racist hate in ’22.
And while Johnson talks shit at COP26
It’s the shitting in rivers voting that sticks.

And Batman’s just a violent capitalist, right?

Omicron, a new Greek letter
Makes you a cougher and a sweater,
May take ten days til you get better,
May take more, may take lesser,
A milder form, Delta’s successor,
But try not to end up in a hospital bed,
Or dead,
Because Johnson, feeling Christmas party shame,
Is playing a different game,
Not just to Drakeford, who seems wiser,
But to his own chief advisor,
Who says, “Stay safe”, while Johnson ‘s business
Is not to cancel another Christmas.
The “Party, what party? Oh, that party” thing
And a Lib Dem swing give another kicking
To his credibility and authority
From which not even producing more offspring
Can deflect.
And when football and darts fans take your name in vain,
Inevitably profane,
It’s calling time on this insufferable toff.
Bye, bye,
Fuck off.

(This blog post is also available as a podcast)

Derek and the Euros

Derek’s singing No Surrender
In the comfort of his own front room
Cos it’s too politically correct
To keep St George in your heart these days, he fumes

Cos Derek won two world wars
And Derek won one world cup
So, Derek won’t offer any applause
To players who won’t stand up

Gareth say be proud of an England
Where players take the knee
In the interests of pride and the interests of respect
And a little equality

Equality scoffs Derek, now he’s playing for a draw
That’s not what I tuned into the Euros for
Keep St George in my heart and God save the Queen
And God help us get out of Group D

Derek’s singing No Surrender
In the comfort of his own front room
Cos its seating room only in that pub on the front
Can’t be doing booking tables in the local ‘Spoon

Gareth says be proud of an England
Where the players take the knee
With responsibility to the community
Out of respect and out of duty

Derek says, well, it’s Marxist
(Oh come on, why doesn’t he pass it?)
You should keep your politics out of the game
All lives matter, know what I’m saying?

Derek’s singing No Surrender
In the comfort of his own front room
There’s no thought police between the carpets and the curtains
His home’s his castle, of that he’s certain

Gareth says be proud of an England
Where the players take the knee
And in the interests of pride and the interests of respect
They’ll stand and sing God Save The Queen

And Derek’s singing No Surrender
But St George in his heart ain’t so sure
Stand for the anthem, kneel for your brothers
Maybe ain’t so bad after all