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
There are ten different types of liar, he said
And that was a lie as well
He finds it as easy to tell an untruth
As he does the truth to tell
Of all the liars in all of the world
He’s the most comfortable liar you’ve heard
So, now we’re learning to live,
Learning to live with the lies
Learning to live with the lies that we’re told
Learning to live with the lies that we’re sold
Learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
45 minutes from mass destruction
Millions of pounds on the side of a bus
A programme of new hospital construction
And then they say that it’s all about us
Whenever there’s something they want us to do
They just find it easier to hide the truth
And now we’re learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
Learning to live with the lies that we’re told
Learning to live with the lies that we’re sold
Learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
There are big lies, little lies
Dirty lies, white lies
Lies to seem clean
And lies to the Queen
Smooth lies, compulsive lies
Bold lies, deceptive lies
Fake news, half truths
And lying as routine
Disinformation
Exaggeration
Lying as omission
They’re a lying machine
Weasel words, perjury
Minimising, puffery
Polite lies, paltering
Their lying is obscene
Their lies are obscene
(So now we’re)
Learning to live with the lies that we’re told
Learning to live with the lies that we’re sold
Learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
Learning to live with the lies that we’re told
Learning to live with the lies that we’re sold
Learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
When the cut and thrust of politics is real
When the cut and paste apologies are fake
When facts matter less than what you feel
And truth and lies are given equal weight
When “I get it” and “I’ll fix it” are a sham
When extremists are emboldened by your act
When you genuinely couldn’t give a damn
And your policy does nothing but distract
When you use your privilege to tell a lie
When you prey upon the people’s hopes and fears
When a violent act is something that you buy
Or else incite by very public smears
When contrition is a barely fleeting phase
Before deceitful boasting rears its head once more
When history is written by the days
Each sentence worse than the one before
When you’re leading them without a destination
When you’re leaving them to fend for themselves
When self-confidence is your only salvation
It’s time to start to draft your farewells
When the authorities are knocking at your door
When your champions look the other way
When your last-ditch distraction is a war
Then accept that this big dog has had his day
Just over a week ago, we got the Sue Gray report into Partygate. Already tipped off by Boris Johnson that it was going to be limited, we weren’t quite sure what to expect, so, damning though it was, it was no surprise that it didn’t name names and that became the theme of this poem.
Later that day, I got a message from Willie Dowling, who asked if I was going to turn it into a song and if not would I mind if he did. Would I mind? I’m a fan! I was delighted and, later that night, there was a demo in my inbox with a couple of additional middle eights that Willie needed some words for. A phone conversation and a few emails and Twitter messages later, we had something ready to share.
“Sue Says” (Dowling/White) is currently only available on SMR Radio on Mixcloud. (Scroll to about 58 minutes in).
Steve
Spaffer Bodycount’s in the Ukraine
While back home Sue’s not named a name
Nor has Cressida, whose investigative prognosis
Is to name no names in a fixed penalty notice
We now see Save Big Dog in action
A report without need for redaction
Cites numerous cases of bad behaviour
Leadership and judgement failure
Bullying and drinking culture
All the fault of the management structure
Thus, the investigation, admittedly provisional
Finds fault with no named individual
The ensuing debate in Parliament
Saw the speaker end the argument
By throwing the SNP’s Blackford out
With a smirk on Bodycount’s face throughout
The Scotsman’s crime? To tell the truth
Obvious to even the most hapless sleuth
That the PM without doubts
Had once more mislead the house
The rules of Parliament, it transpires
Protect the members from being called liars
With more weight lent to disrespect
Than statements patently correct
While protecting the scoundrel prepared to channel
The ghost of paedophile Jimmy Savile
(Let’s not forget that distain
For investigation of the same
Is what gave Spaffer his name)
But back to the report itself
Before it’s found a convenient shelf
Compiled by the woman responsible
For MP Damien Green’s downfall
When he touched Kate Maltby inappropriately
And used work time to watch pornography
She also did a review, less blue
Of what was said at Plebgate too
But on Partygate she’s circumspect
As we’ve already come to expect
Handing over, on its release,
Responsibility to the police
Who’ve already hinted their intention
Is for names to not be mentioned
So as Save Big Dog hit its peak
It was time for Starmer to speak
With calls for integrity and honesty
Action with moral authority
Not the cruel smirks of superiority
Protected by an eighty-seat majority
But his calls for Bodycount to resign
Would require a leader with a spine
Not a naughty kid prepared to try
To hide behind a preposterous lie
So obvious and fake
As ambushed by a birthday cake
But if the 1922 Committee
By clever speech or desperate pity
Allow Bodycount to stay in role
Then they’d to well to avoid a poll
All of which now say
The public think he’s had his day
His loyalists, increasingly few
Have got some catching up to do
Like Truss, newly deep of voice
And Dorries who, if given the choice
Would rather another G&T
Than an interview on the TV
News just in, by the way
That the Met Police now say
That if Bodycount is handed a fine
Then he will be named at the time
So, if Dame Dick’s prepared to deny him
How much time will this trip buy him?
‘Cause Spaffer Bodycount’s in the Ukraine
A stateman-like wave on the steps of the plane
Can’t explain to a nation in pain
From do-as-I-sayers, not do-as-I-doers
With families in castles and morals in sewers
With lockdowns for you and parties for them
And lies again and again and again
That it’s one rule for them and another for you
Just how long do you think that he thinks that will do?
Sue says when the pandemic’s high
Sue says when you restrict others’ lives
Sue says parties are difficult to justify
But Sue Gray don’t name names
Sue says it’s a serious failure
Sue says it’s thoughtless behaviour
Sue says how do you think it will appear
But Sue Gray don’t name names
Sue says consumption of excess alcohol
Sue says shouldn’t happen at work at all
Sue says it’s not very professional
But Sue Gray don’t name names
Sue says the police are investigating
Sue says no more info is circulating
Sue says we shouldn’t be speculating
And Sue Gray don’t name names
Wash your hands, sing Happy Birthday
To mitigate airborne disease
While Bodycount and Downing Street
Have work events with wine and cheese
Mourn your dead by video conference
Press your palm on care home glass
While basement DJs spin the hits
For the drunken ruling class
Know your place, a three-word slogan
Take back control, get Brexit done
Silent spads and tight-lipped coppers
Will keep things quiet for now, for some
A wine time Friday, leaving party
Garden gathering, birthday cake
Who’s the fool when saving lives
Depends upon the rules they make
Spaffer Bodycount lied, said he didn’t know
Spaffer Bodycount lied, said he didn’t go
Spaffer Bodycount with a bottle of Bordeaux
Spaffer Bodycount, at lying he’s a pro
Spaffer Bodycount lied, said he never went
Spaffer Bodycount lied about a work event
Spaffer Bodycount is definitely bent
Spaffer Bodycount will never repent
Sue will do anything for him
Cressida can’t ignore him
On a Friday he likes to let it all hang out
You know that Spaffer Bodycount
Spaffer Bodycount, he loves to partake
But now Spaffer Bodycount is looking for a break
Spaffer Bodycount can’t admit a mistake
Spaffer Bodycount got ambushed by cake
Sue will do anything for him
Cressida can’t ignore him
On a Friday he likes to let it all hang out
You know that Spaffer Bodycount
So, who’s gonna hold him to account?
So, who’s gonna hold him to account?
That lying, cheating Spaffer Bodycount
That lying, cheating Spaffer Bodycount
Will he resign? Will he be forced out? Will the 1922 Committee get their 54 letters? (Just how archaic is this process?) Or will we have to build a statue of him and throw it in the Thames? Who knows? But in the meantime, a little gentle encouragement Protest Family-style, or the theme tune to a celebration. Let’s see…
The Speaker of the House doesn’t speak, he shouts
And doesn’t call the PM out
On the lies he spouts,
And when he answers a different question to the one that’s asked,
He gets a pass,
As unchallenged as his misogyny
Referring to the women questioners as ‘she’
And to the men
As right honourable friends.
And calls for him to correct the record
From the baying horde
Are just ignored.
At PMQs
Sir Kier said, “Bring your own boos”,
A witty retort
No doubt given much thought
But an acknowledgement just the same
That this is all somehow a game,
Played out again
When a fella who likes kicking refugees,
Burning down the trees and tax avoidance schemes,
Crossed the floor
To Labour applause,
While a man of genuine integrity
Still sits in a whip-less constituency.
Is it any wonder then
There are loads of people who when asked
Say, “Why should I care
What happens in there?
It’s clearly just panto,
And it’s not Christmas”.
And that’s the way
Operation Save Big Dog
Survives another day.
Steve White & The Protest Family 