The Gable

“The gable still ain’t in the middle”

And it never was, coming as it did, second-hand from Mitcham Stadium, the brainchild of entrepreneur Sydney Parkes who built it in 1935, hosting among other things, rugby league, baseball and greyhound racing and, although the latter is disputed, the gable was built to be in line with the finish line.

Mitcham Stadium closed in 1955 and the stand was bought by Leyton Orient who gave it a new lease of life at Brisbane Road in 1958.

There’s much more of this story here and here, but in the meantime, our brand new video premieres next week, and you can find that here:

Harry, Won’t You Fly With Me

Let me tell you ‘bout a boy named Harry
And all the fuss about the girl he married
She weren’t like them, she was a celebrity
No eyes of blue, American too
She would never fit in to their family

But she sang
Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me
It could be so much better
Shooting Taliban together
What a power couple we will be

Let me tell you ’bout a bloke called Charlie
Spent his whole life waiting for his mum’s last party
Crowned at last and everything would be alright
Then son number one
And son number two
Had a set too and broke the dog’s bowl in a fight

While she sang
Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me
It could be so much better
Shooting Taliban together
What a power couple we will be

Let me tell you ’bout a woman called Camilla
Charlie’s regular date for dinner
The Princess of All Our Hearts ain’t for me
I wanna be your tampon
Come on, let’s get it on
I don’t care if I’m indiscreet

And she sang
Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me
It could be so much better
Shooting Taliban together
What a power couple we will be

Let me tell you ’bout a prince called William
The whole of Wales was his dominion
Hier to the throne, all he has to do is stay alive
But he fought with his brother
In the absence of his mother
About their choice of royal wives

And she sang
Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me
It could be so much better
Shooting Taliban together
What a power couple we will be

Let me tell you ’bout the whole damn lot of ‘em
How much better it would be to be shot of ‘em
Off with their heads, and those of all their friends
Gold, gilt and greed
Something we don’t need
And that’s the way the story ends

While she sang
Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me
It could be so much better
Shooting Taliban together
What a power couple we will be

All* the Christmas Songs in the Same Place

Santa Is English

Christmas Bubble Trouble

Christmas With The Vulnerables

The Day They Cancelled Christmas

And the one cover version that we do every year:

*Lost in the mists of time is Steve singing Mary Had a Tory Baby. It went out live on a Punk 4 The Homeless live stream never to be seen again. If anyone has a copy, please let us know.

When the Sun Goes Down

She had to stop watching the news when she became the news
Another poverty safari into a lifestyle she didn’t choose
She hardly has the lights on at this time of year
And like the feeling going around
She’s feeling like she’s gonna drown
And she don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down
She don’t know what she’s gonna do
She don’t know what she’s gonna do
She don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down

Blackouts to hide from bailiffs rather than warplanes
But it’s war just the same, in all but name, with a wartime price to be paid
And something to eat will have to wait until tomorrow now
‘Cause like the feeling going around
She’s feeling like she’s gonna drown
And she don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down
She don’t know what she’s gonna do
She don’t know what she’s gonna do
She don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down
When the sun goes down
When the sun goes down
She don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down

Waitrose Woman and Meal Deal Man

Waitrose Woman loves Meal Deal Man
But she’s doesn’t understand
How he’s just getting by

Waitrose Woman loves Meal Deal Man
But she doesn’t understand
And she’s forgetting why

Waitrose Woman works in the city
Loves low taxes and the NHS
Waitrose Woman lives in Surrey
Has two kids and a dog called Bess
Waitrose woman likes Radio 4
She doesn’t really feel the culture war
She feels very sorry for the kids of the poor
She buys their dusters at the door
She knows that she’s okay
She knows that she’s okay

Meal Deal Man lives in the city
He’s already eaten his one-a-day
Meal Deal Man works for a living
But he’s going to the food bank today
Meal Deal Man gets his benefits paid
He lies in the bed they say he made
His shirt is clean but his collar is frayed
He used to vote but just feels betrayed
He knows he’s not okay
He knows he’s not okay

Meal Deal Man drinks a Wetherspoons coffee
It’s not very nice but the pub is warm
Meal Deal Man knows there’s heat in the bookies
And they’ll leave him alone to study the form
Meal Deal Man’s card gets declined
Meal Deal Man knows life’s unkind
Meal Deal Man’s been left behind
Even though he’s always tried
He knows he’s not okay
He knows he’s not okay

Waitrose Woman likes a glass of wine
A ripe avocado and wholemeal bread
Waitrose Woman loves her warm kitchen
And cool sheets when she slips into bed
Waitrose Woman knows we’re all the same
She feels very sorry for the sick and the lame
She thinks that poverty is a shame
But hard work is the name of the game
She knows that she’s okay
She knows that she’s okay

Waitrose Woman loves Meal Deal Man
But she’s doesn’t understand
How he’s just getting by

Waitrose Woman loves Meal Deal Man
But she doesn’t understand
And she’s forgetting why
She’s forgetting why
She’s forgetting why
She’s forgetting why

Trickle-Down Town

Trickle-down misery
Trickle-down poverty
Trickle down lies
And trickle-down dishonesty
Trickle-down rules
From a trickle-down clown
Only trickle down
In Trickle-Down Town

Trickle-down parties
With trickle-down cakes
Trickle-down suitcased
Trickle-down fakes
Trickle-down fines
Come trickling down
From fifties to thousands
In Trickle-Down Town

The trickle-down cough’s
Still trickle-down persistent
The trickle-down prof.’s
Still pretty non-existent
Now poxy monkey pox
Is trickling down
‘Cause the A/C’s always off
In Trickle-Down Town

The trickle-down penny
Still hasn’t dropped
The trickle-down rises
Still haven’t stopped
Rishi’s five pence
Is nowhere to be found
On any forecourt
In Trickle-Down Town

Trickle-down prices
Are trickle-down rising
A trickle-down crisis
Is hardly surprising
When trickle-down profits
Are still never found
In the trickle-down pockets
Of Trickle-Down Town

The trickle-down prince
Reads a trickle-down speech
To a trickle-down house
With trickle-down reach
Sat on a trickle-down throne
Next to a trickle-down crown
Now they boo the national anthem
In Trickle-Down Town

Lee Anderson vs. Jack Monroe

Lee was a miner
Not a striking miner, mind ya
‘Cause he was still a minor
In ‘84

Then he was on the CAB
And homeless hospitality
And work for Gloria MP
(He was) Labour before

But now contrary Lee
Is Ashfield’s new Tory MP
Class of 2019
And hard to ignore

‘Cause Lee likes to boo the knee
And speak antisemitically
Likes a right-wing conspiracy
And hates the poor

Now Jack’s gonna sue the arse off him
He played a very expensive game of chicken
We know Jack will win

Lee was a miner
Not a striking miner, mind ya
‘Cause he was still a minor
In ‘84

He prefers the company
Of Martin Daubney’s party
And Laurence Fox’s bigotry
And racist rapport

He said that poor people make shit cooks
And Jack just tries to sell ‘em books
So Jack’s lawyers will have a look
And settle the score

Now Jack’s gonna sue the arse off him
He played a very expensive game of chicken
We know Jack will win

Lee was a miner
Not a striking miner, mind ya
Now he’s just a whiner
And a right-wing troll

Bin Bags


They’re crying about woke
They’re crying she’s a bloke
They’re crying ‘bout appendages
The vestiges of yesterdays

They’re crying about words
That they think are absurd
They’re crying ‘bout the language
Being savaged for the damaged

It’s bin bags
Bin bags
It’s just bin bags
Bin bags

They’re crying about Bragg
They think that it’s a drag
That he’s standing with the persecuted
Most disputed and excluded

They’re crying about caring
And storytelling scaring
They’re crying ‘bout the activists
Who won’t assist the anti-ists

It’s bin bags
Bin bags
It’s just bin bags
Bin bags

They said you couldn’t call ‘em
By the colour that they are
They said it was the looney lefties
Who had gone too far
They say that what goes around
Comes around again
And now it’s gender critical, it’s
You can’t call it’s
Minds are small, it’s

Bin bags
Bin bags
It’s just bin bags
Bin bags

They don’t like their lives disrupted
Opinions deconstructed
To understand it’s complicated
Other people should be feted
Not just accommodated
And your words can show that you care
Your words can show that you care

It’s bin bags
Bin bags
It’s just bin bags
Bin bags

Bin bags