Mogg vs. Marr, LBC 19 April 2022

Condescending Mogg at his condescending best
Says leg before wicket is the best test
Of whether Spaffer’s lying
He’s on the offensive no forward defensive stroke this
He’s taking the piss
And not even trying

The Minister for Lack of Opportunity for Our Community
Is here to spar with Marr
It’s infuriating so far
His relying on denying
Crying speculation
And irrespective of the effect of his words
Encourages perspective
About Marr’s father dying
And Partygate

For Mogg it’s just a game
These people have no shame

Stealth Omicron

He’s splutting and coughering
Hot and bloody bothering
Feeling pretty rotten
And he’s tested twice

He’s sneezin’ and wheezin’
And snottin’ like a wee thing
It isn’t very pleasin’
It’s not very nice

But give him a day or two
It takes a while to come to view
He’ll get his second line up too
And now he’s had it twice

It’s Omicron
They call it stealth Omicron
With no rules to rely upon
It’s BA.2 for you and you and you

It’s Omicron
He’s got Stealth Omicron
With no test and no mask on
It’s BA.2 for you and you and you

He thought it was a heavy cold
He thought he’d got it all controlled
Now that LFTs are sold
Who’s gonna buy?

Now he’s coughing and spluttering
Shivering and shuddering
The country is recovering’s
Another lie

He’s one in a million
No, one of a million
Infected civilians
The number’s pretty high

It’s Omicron
They call it stealth Omicron
With no rules to rely upon
It’s BA.2 for you and you and you

It’s Omicron
He’s got Stealth Omicron
With no test and no mask on
It’s BA.2 for you and you and you

He’s one in a million
No, one of a million
Infected civilians
The number’s pretty high

When Is It Over?

When is it over?
It’s over today
What on earth do you mean, said he
She said, it’s not gone away
But it’s over today
Because tests are no longer free
As a fool once said
In the time that he led
If you don’t look, then you won’t see
So, it’s over today
Without going away
Because tests are no longer free

Spaffer Flies to Ukraine

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

Whose Rules?

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

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

Operation Save Big Dog

Apologise by not saying sorry
Don’t let Sue get too a priori
Make a list of your next quarry
It’s Operation Save Big Dog

Ferguson went when he was too carefree
Hancock survived over PPE
But then got caught on CCTV
It’s Operation Save Big Dog

Save Big Dog, it ain’t even in Latin
Save Big Dog, the back bench are at him
Save Big Dog, maybe this time it’s happening
Operation Save Big Dog

Send ‘em Brandon Lewis tell him what to say
Send ‘em Liz Truss, tell her the same
Send ‘em Damian Hinds (who’s he anyway?)
It’s Operation Save Big Dog

Tell a big lie, what have you got to lose?
With a suitcase of booze and a crap excuse
Hoping a Chinese spy will make the news
It’s Operation Save Big Dog

Save Big Dog, it ain’t even in Latin
Save Big Dog, the back bench are at him
Save Big Dog, maybe this time it’s happening
Operation Save Big Dog

Sacrifice a SpAd, that’s why you pay ‘em
They all know there comes a day when
A Barnard Castle eye test just won’t save ‘em
It’s Operation Save Big Dog

Blow the whistle! The dog whistle
Not the whistleblowers, feed ’em to the dogs
Blow the whistle! The dog whistle
It’s Operation Save Big Dog

Save Big Dog, it ain’t even in Latin
Save Big Dog, the back bench are at him
Save Big Dog, maybe this time it’s happening
Operation Save Big Dog

(Lyrics by Steve and Mark Commoner)

Sue Gray

Need talk about a party to just go away?
Do you need to keep the metropolitan police at bay?
Has your shopping trolley got wheels of clay?
Then you need Sue Gray

Did you touch Kate Maltby in an inappropriate way?
Did you use your work computer for some “me time” play?
Did you lie about it all on Radio 4’s Today?
Send for Sue Gray

Need a pint at the end of a bandit country day?
Who could do a job for Theresa May?
What did Andrew Mitchell actually say?
You could ask Sue Gray

Have your friends in Scotland cried, “Foul play”?
Does breaking two years’ silence fill you with dismay?
Do you need to survive PMQ’s to fight another day?
Then you need Sue Gray


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)