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
Tag: Carrie Symonds
Cummings, Cain and Princess Nut-Nut
Get out, he said, and never come back
Take your box out of the front door
No sneakin’ out the back
You might’ve got Brexit done
But now you’re getting’ the tin tack
There’s the road to Barnard Castle
I suggest you hit it, Jack
Now Spaffer’s back in self-isolation
With Carrie and Baby Wilf
She doesn’t need to text him ten times a day
Now she’s got him all to herself
He’s phoning in the bluff and bluster
From a comfy sofa in number 10
Arms-length prime ministering, no surprise
We’ve been there once, now we’re doing it again
Get out of here and never come back
Is what I hear he said to Lee Cain
But apparently money’s already changin’ hands
That it won’t be long ‘til he’s back again
Too close to Cummings, too close to home
Don’t say “Princess Nut-Nut” when you’re not alone
‘Cos it might not be such a laugh
When the boss de-blokes the backroom staff
Now Spaffer’s back in self-isolation
With Carrie and Baby Wilf
She doesn’t need to text him ten times a day
Now she’s got him all to herself
He’s phoning in the bluff and bluster
From a comfy sofa in number 10
Arms-length prime ministering, no surprise
They’ll just have to wheel Matt Hancock out again
Spaffer Fixes Bayonets
Spaffer and Allegra were bright young things
Oxford’s future queens and kings
It wasn’t long ‘til they exchanged rings
But while he was seein’ her
Along came Marina
And Spaffer fixed his bayonet and went over the top
Marina gave him daughters, Marina gave him sons
Lara and Milo were the first ones
Marina must’ve thought that she was the one
But he ain’t that kinda fella
Along came Petronella
And Spaffer fixed his bayonet and went over the top
Marina threw him out but soon had him back
Spaffer must’ve thought it one helluva craic
She’d have more to fend off than a single attack
Because actually
Along came Anna Fazackerly
And Spaffer fixed his bayonet and went over the top
Two more with Marina, Cassie and Theodore
For those keeping count, that makes four
But Spaffer’s lift won’t stay on the ground floor
Soon, along came Helen
And he refixed his weapon
Spaffer fixed his bayonet and went over the top
Helen was the latest focus of his seduction
But when Stephanie was born he tried to seek an injuction
He didn’t want the public aware of their production
And Marina was yet to discover
An as yet unnamed lover
As Spaffer fixed his bayonet and went over the top
‘Cos Spaffer weren’t about to take a break from play
Although rumours of another child remain vague
A subject on which he has little to say
But while he’s still married
Its time to introduce Carrie
And Spaffer fixed his bayonet and went over the top
Now Spaffer’s hoping things with the kids are reconciled
As Carrie is the mother of his latest child
Thinking this must be the end of his days being wild
But the question on everyone’s minds
How long ‘til the next time
That Spaffer fixes bayonets and goes over the top
Spaffer fixes bayonets and goes over the top
Spaffer fixes bayonets and goes over the top
Spaffer just can’t stop
Baby Boris is Born
In an imaginary pub, open during lockdown.
“I had no idea she was that pregnant, to be honest.”
“No?”
“No. Well I thought, what with him nearly dying and rising again at Easter, that Baby Boris would be putting in an appearance at Christmas.”
“Christmas! You’re a one! She’d hardly be pregnant at all if she wasn’t due until Christmas.”
“Ah, I guess so, just me being poetic. But anyway, what are they going to call her now?”
“It’s a baby boy!”
“No, not the baby, her, what’s her name, Carrie.”
“What do you mean, what are we going to call Carrie?”
“Well she’s always been Pregnant Girlfriend Carrie or Pregnant Fiancée Carrie, she’s going to need a new nickname now. Baby Mother Carrie, maybe.”
“Don’t be so daft, she doesn’t need giving a nickname.”
“Not by you maybe, but the press will. She’ll be defined by her relationship to himself, what with him being the prime minister and everything.”
“Oh.”
“Think about it. It happens all the time. Tell you what, I’ll list all the women owners of the mainstream British media.”
“Go on then.”
“I just did. Want me to do it again?”
“Oh. I see. I think.”
“Anyway, bless the child being born a boy. If she was a girl the papers would definitely have christened her Corona.”
“Ah, yeah. Or maybe Covidia, that sounds posher.”
“Poor bastard’s going to end up christened Boris Winston Brexit Johnson isn’t he?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Same again?”
Steve White & The Protest Family 