Frog-faced fascist Farage
The tinpot TikTok wannabe dictator
Squawks deport ‘em all, let God sort ‘em out
Dreams of riots, five quid flags
And mini roundabouts
Dreams of Trump-ish sanctions
And Taliban transactions
It’s mass deportation masturbation
For a nation that’s been
Squeezed, plucked
Furloughed, fucked
Despairing for an answer
But stranded with a chancer
In stockbroker tweed
When what they need
Is far less greed
From those that have it all already
Such as him
Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street
Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back giving a fuck about each other
Bring back understanding
Whose wealth is expanding
Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street
Paul lives in a country
With no parliament or king
His flag has no status
Except with racists and their kin
Paul lives in a country
Where even the roundabouts are white
His crusade’s embarrassing
And not a pretty sight
Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street
You can join Reform UK
But don’t get excited
The party’s for the very rich
And you ain’t invited
Reform FC is not a team
You want to bet your life on
Nigel’s not the football type
His word can’t be relied on
Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street
Bring back the experts
Bring back the truth
Facts don’t have another side
For anyone to choose
Bring back the right questions
Bin the clickbait and the quotes
None of your problems
Arrived here on small boats
Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street
If you fly the flag to intimidate
If you sneak it up at night
If you fly it to say you’re not welcome here
If you fly it out of spite
Then you don’t fly the flag for me
You don’t fly the flag for this country
You fly it for the fascists
And we will tear it down
Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street
If you fly the flag to intimidate
If you sneak it up at night
If you fly it to say you’re not welcome here
If you fly it out of spite
Then you don’t fly the flag for me
You don’t fly the flag for this country
You fly it for the fascists
And we will tear it down
Made in China from the finest polyester
Bought in bulk from that Bezos bloke
No official status in the state apparatus
It says I’m English mate, it says I’m not woke
It says I’m proud that there used to be a library here
Named after some statue or other
I’m proud of the flats that I will never afford
And the bedroom that I share with my brother
I’m proud of Jimmy Dyson, the entrepreneur
Shame his hoovers ain’t made round here no more
And I’m proud of Jerry Clarkson and his comedy farm
His avoiding tax ain’t doing me no harm
Proud of the mums of Epping draped in flags
With sons in the party and mates on tags
The GB News-er who runs his own boozer
And the RefUK councillor who’s a sex abuser
It says I’m proud of our culture, proud to be default
Proud of Nigel’s millions and the fine wine in his vault
Proud of the riots after the Southport attack
I’m proud we fought the fascists and I’m proud they’re coming back
Made in China from the finest polyester
Twelve quid on eBay for two
Not intended to intimidate, oh wait
Coming to a lamppost near you
I got a new one [CD player] to listen to Evidence Based Punk Rock, the new Steve White & the Protest Family album, and it is worth the money on its own: it’s an absolute tour de force. They’re another great example of genre-fluidity — think Chas n Dave meets the Tom Robinson Band with a magnificently militant Ian Duryish manic street preacher on lead vocals. Hearty singalongs interspersed with Steve’s sharp, witty performance poetry: an incredibly incisive, thoroughly enjoyable CD which sums up our battered country in 2025 to a T. Definitely my album of the year so far.
Read Attila’s full review in the Morning Star.
Kier says that the suffering is terrible
Kier says that the suffering is wrong
Kier says that he’ll recognise Palestine
Once all the Palestinians are gone
Coming soon!
The cover art is based on Steve’s songwriting notebook and the CD version of the album knits the songs together into consistent narrative with sounds and poems. Yes, Evidence-Based Punk Rock (or evidence-based punk rock, depending on whether you’re listening to the CD or the download/streaming version) is nearly here.
We’ll be announcing a release date soon but first we need to get the word out there. So, if you can help us out with a review/radio play/podcast/interview/etc., please give us a shout.
Rachel’s in tears behind the bar of The New Austerity Inn. The boss at the brewery has refused to say if he’ll keep her on or not and the local paper’s got hold of the story.
Against all odds, the locals are rallying round. They might not have forgiven her for trying to chase the old folk out who’d just come in for a bit of warmth during the winter, but it’s their pub, nonetheless, and their loyalty means that the books are starting to look slightly better.
The beer is still awful, mind you.
The robot can’t stick its finger up your arse
But it can interpret your test results
So long as there’s sufficient comparators
In the health databases it consults
(A subject we may return to later
Is why Big Tech is after your NHS data)
And if there’s plenty of others to compare
Then speed-wise it’s in a different class
It can say yes or no without a human there
And it doesn’t stick its finger up your arse
Dear Donny, I’m so sorry I was late
I thought we had two weeks to get the message straight
You know that’s what the airbases are there for, mate
When Ronnie bombed the Libyans, we didn’t hesitate
I’ve got Lammy standing ready with a statement to make
He knows there’s a special relationship at stake
And if there’s war to be made, then war we shall make
I could do with some ban-the-burqa action to take
So, let me know Donny, if you’re gonna bomb some more
I wanna be like Margaret and Tony before
Not getting invited would leave me pretty sore
Dear Donny, I’m sorry I was late for the war
He wears his shoes way too big
And tells the most outrageous lies
He’s got magic healing ears
And blind eyes turned to genocide
His mates are cosplay fascists
But the real deal is him
Dare to disagree
And he’ll send the army in
(While political opponents
Are messily done in)
He’ll tell you that it’s beautiful
While beauty gets short shrift
All hail forty-seven
All hail President Grift
Steve White & The Protest Family 