Stop the Boats

Diddy Rishi Dastardly’s petard will soon be hoist
“Yes General”, he says to the off-screen muffled voice
But Zilly’s done a runner, he thinks Rwanda isn’t fair
And Klunk has got a legal plan that hasn’t got a prayer
While Dastardly just wants the Vulture Squadron in the air
‘Cause Yankee Doodle Refugee will lose him Red Wall votes
While Muttley snickers “medal”, he’s crying “Stop the boats!”

Resignation Honours

What the fuck are resignation honours
Can they be bought with foreign dollars
Or are they just for a certain type of cad
Like the ex-PM’s wife-beating dad
With form for familial awards
Having put his brother in the House of Lords

If we’re to let him have his way
Then their post-nominals all should say
Displayed proudly by their name

Arise, Sir Stanley, Lord of Wrong ‘Un
Knighted by that wanker, Boris Johnson

Vote Tomatoes, Get Turnips

There’s too much choice these days, says Thérèse
Vote tomatoes, get turnips

We’re not to blame for the rain in Spain
Vote tomatoes, get turnips

Cherish specialism, not pessimism
Vote tomatoes, get turnips

The bill’s too high for your local supply
Vote tomatoes, get turnips

Fruit and veg ration is the latest fashion
Vote tomatoes, get turnips

And it’s nothing to do with leaving the EU
Vote tomatoes, get turnips

Willy’s at the Foodbank

Willy’s at the foodbank
Polishing the brand
Stepping from the Range Rover
With nothing in his hand
Kate is in a pink coat
Willy’s jumper’s green
They’ve brought a photographer
They’re here to be seen

Willy’s at the foodbank
Chatting to the staff
Kate is sorting out the tins
They’re both having a laugh
Like this is all so normal
This whip round for the poor
With his green-jumpered patronage
And the pink coat that she wore

Willy’s at the foodbank
And no one’s going to say
That they never used to need
A foodbank round this way
Kate is in a pink coat
Willy’s jumper’s green
While the folk who use the foodbank
Are neither heard nor seen

‘Cause some of them are nurses
And that would never do
The Prince bestowing loaves of bread
When claps would surely do
They’ve brought a photographer
To keep the image clean
Kate is in a pink coat
And Willy’s jumper’s green

Virtual Wards

She’s on a virtual ward
In a virtual hospital
She saw a virtual doctor
On a video call

She said your virtual op
Will just have to wait
Theatre virtually
Always runs late

She got a virtual ambulance
All the way down the stairs
No virtual paramedic, though
In virtual care

She’s in a virtual hospital
Under a virtual team
They promised us forty
Just not virtually

She’s on a virtual ward
Receiving virtual care
From a virtual government
That virtually doesn’t

New Year’s Honours

Stephen Graham OBE
Virginia McKenna from Born Free
Brian May, well he was in Queen
Dara McNulty, the naturalist teen
Four Lionesses but not the others
Two dead kids’ campaigning mothers
Lissie Harper for law reforming
Rachel Riley who hated Corbyn
Ivan Menezes for running a company
Like Johnny Boden CBE
Over half the honours still go to blokes
Frank Skinner got one for telling jokes
All summoned to Empire by royal shout-out
Inside the tent now, pissing out

(Some) People Who Died

Robbie Coltrane, Bernard Cribbins
Vivienne Westwood had a good innings
Sidney Poitier, Ray Liotta
Ronnie Spector, the Big C got her
Wilko Johnson, Jet Black
Christine McVie from Fleetwood Mac
Hot Lips Houlihan, Dot Cotton
Mrs McClusky won’t be forgotten
Irene Cara, Keith Levene
Elizabeth, who played the Queen
Dame Olivia Newton-John
Leslie Phillips dinged his last dong
Nichelle Nichols, Kirstie Alley
Fashion designer Issey Miyake
Taylor Hawkins, Barry Cryer
Olive, when her house caught fire
Jerry Lee Lewis, Loretta Lynn
Terry Hall, Joyce Sims
Maxi Jazz, Coolio
Meat Loaf revved up some place to go
Pelé, Mark Lanegan
Shane Warne, Dennis Waterman
Bill Turnbull, Raymond Briggs
Paul Ryder’s played his last gigs
As has Martin Duffy too
Angela Lansbury, Shirley Hughes
George Cohen, David McKee
Big Bird’s neighbour in Sesame Street
James Caan, Hilary Mantel
Vangelis, and Fletch as well
Ruth Madoc out of Hi-de-Hi!
And many, many more besides

Money Goes to Money

They’re running rather than getting beat
They’re starting to vote with their feet
The rats are leaving faster than the ship can sink
Like their shit doesn’t stink
Like their shit ain’t on the brink
Like it ain’t shit to think
That money goes to money is okay
That money goes to money is the only way
That money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

Meanwhile in an imaginary navy
Penny’s insincere smile
Mouths coyly look at me
Admire my philanthropy
Admire my new food pantry
While opposing free school meals
Don’t that just hit you in the feels?
A proper Scrooge turned fake Marley
As the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

The posties on the picket know
They’ve got to hold the line
Firefighters, nurses, teachers
Among the left behind
As the money goes to money
And the warm bank number grows
The money goes to money
And the pubs begin to close
As the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

They ain’t here to manage the crisis
Just the TV news
This morning’s media message is
Another excuse to bruise
The money goes to money
As they put the word about
That there ain’t no money
You’ll just have to do without
As the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

Lynch’s mob don’t need to strike
The train’s already fucked
And Mrs Smith’s replacement hips
Well, she’s just out of luck
Hancock, pushed, jumped anyway
Says he’s still got lots to say
Not even in opposition
Would there be a point to listen
While the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

The money knows no borders
The money knows no shame
The money only hears the sighs
Of the rich who coo its name
Like Michelle, Robber Baroness
The PPE millionairess
Banished as Rishi fakes it tough
She’ll be back soon enough
As the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

Money goes to money
While the rest get less and less
Money goes to money
What a fuckin’ mess

Where Are You From?

Sir Richard, Knight of the Shire in 1339
Son Richard, Speaker of the House in Richard II’s time
Another Richard, Lord of Bures
Then William, then Edward, the name endures
Another Edward, a baronet
Without a peerage, as high as you get
Then Henry, married the King’s daughter
Then James Waldegrave, sailing back over the water
For a seat in the Lords, mates with the PM
His son James, George II’s best friend
His son William, an admiral, nice one
His son Granville only a vice one
As Britannia ruled the waves
Next was George, the 4th Earl Waldegrave
Who lived at Strawberry Hill
The house is in the family still
George and James were 5th and 6th
The 7th, George, the name still sticks
The 8th another William
With still more Waldegraves to come
He was known as Viscount Chewton
With his land to hunt and shoot on
Succeeded by Henry, who the records tell
Was succeeded by Geoffrey, who married a Grenfell
Whose daughter… yes it must be
It’s Susan, Baroness Hussey
Who knows just what it’s like to belong
And demands to know where you are from

If You Do It to an Ant

I’m a vegan, he said, I hope you’re a vegan too
I don’t like to think of the animals as food
‘Cause if you do it to an ant, you can do it to a fly
Oh my! A fly! He said, just try
And if you do it to a fly, you can do it to a spider
I know this is getting a bit wriggled inside her
But if you do it to a spider, you can do it to a fish
‘Cause fish don’t have any feelings, I wish
And if you do it to a fish, you can do it to a chicken
The Colonel’s tortured millions, they’re finger lickin’
And if you do it to a chicken, you can do it to a cat
Fancy that? A finger lickin’ cat?
And if you do it to a pig, you can do it to a dog
Just another similarly sensitive hog
And if you do it to a cow, you can do it to a horse
A horse? Well, they eat them in France of course
And if you do it to a horse, you can do it to a man
Oh yes, you can, you understand?
That if you do it to a man, you can do it to the planet
You already did