Tag: politics

A Love Letter From Nigel Farage To Donald Trump

I always tell people that you are extraordinary
I bask in the glow of your golden age
Your upbeat populism, it’s gonna be beautiful
I’m the wind beneath the wings of your global stage

Oh, Donald
Oh, Donny
I love you though you can be cruel and unkind
Oh, Donald
Oh, Donny
Please don’t leave me behind

Remember how we felt in 2016
The laughs that we had outside the golden door
Fooling the world that we were anti-establishment
Planning all the riches that the power could score

Oh, Donald
Oh, Donny
I love you though you can be cruel and unkind
Oh, Donald
Oh, Donny
Please don’t leave me behind

I always tell people to take you seriously
Even if literally can be a bit much
I’m sorry we disagree about Zelensky
Oh Donny, Tommy doesn’t have your golden touch

Oh, Donald
Oh, Donny
I love you though you can be cruel and unkind
Oh, Donald
Oh, Donny
Please don’t leave me behind

I know he has a chainsaw and his own space rocket
I know he bought Twitter and rid it of blue
But his kid picked his nose in The Oval Office
And he could never love you the way that I do

Oh, Donald
Oh, Donny
I love you though you can be cruel and unkind
Oh, Donald
Oh, Donny
Please don’t leave me behind

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More Rain

He looks out of the window, says it’s still grim
It ain’t stopped raining since they got in
No sign of a break in the weather
Feels like it could rain forever

And all that’s forecast is more of the same
All that’s forecast is more rain
More rain

He was listening to the guy with the Richmond song
Heard Jordan Peterson had him along
To a populist rally at the Excel
You kinda knew it as well

And all that’s forecast is more of the same
All that’s forecast is more rain
More rain

Meanwhile in Maryland, another Nazi
No putting this one down to chance, he
Said, fight, fight, fight
And signalled to the far right

Silence where you need condemnation
But he buys into the state of the nation
Looking out of the window, he says it’s still grim
Has been since they got in

And all that’s forecast is more of the same
All that’s forecast is more rain
More rain
More rain

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Tommy Anderson RIP

My name is Tam The Bin Man, and I’ll take them out on strike
He wore a tartan bonnet, and in his hand a mic
He knew a life of struggle, and solidarity
He knew the fight for justice, and equality

On the bins you see the folk who find the street their home
Tommy vowed that they should never struggle on their own
He looked after the homeless, the needy, and the poor
He looked after the union, from the shop floor

Tommy looked after the homeless, and anyone he could
Tommy looked after the homeless, like a good union man should

Proud Scotsman, he moved to town when he was just eighteen
Homeless then, he knew the lives of others he had seen
He looked after the homeless, because Tommy understood
A union man should help in any way he could

Tommy looked after the homeless, and anyone he could
Tommy looked after the homeless, like a good union man should

My name is Tam The Bin Man, and I took them out on strike
I looked after the homeless and the union alike
I looked after the homeless and anyone I could
I looked after the homeless, like a good union man should

Tommy looked after the homeless, and anyone he could
Tommy looked after the homeless, like a good union man should

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Free Speech

He exercised free speech
To say he’d been denied free speech
There are things, he said, I’m not allowed to say

And then he said them anyway

We told him, you can say anything you want to say
There’s just one thing you really ought to know
If you set out to harm somebody else with your words
Then we reserve the right to tell you so

He said, oh

But there are crime crimes
Things that I know to be a crime
Then there are hate crimes
That I’m not sure are actually a crime

We took our time

If your crime’s linked to the colour of your poor victim’s skin
Or motivated by the relationship they’re in
Then what you did is a crime just the same
It’s just your hate has given it a name

But then, he said, there’s non-crime hate
We just said, mate
It’s your hate that you should be working on

He balled his fists, he stamped his feet
He said, you see, there’s no free speech
And with the rattle of a red pill
He was gone

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Damian

Damian picks his nose in the Oval Office
Wipes it on the desk like no one’s there
Damian speaks his mind without question
Damian meets the world with a confident stare

Damian hitched a ride on his father’s shoulder
His black-capped charger stamps a hoof and neighs
He knows all this will be his when he’s older
The Master of all that he surveys

Damian is laughing at democracy
Damian whispers in the President’s ear
Damian picks his nose in the Oval Office
Damian knows his time is nearly here

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If We Had Won The War

Oh, how different, if we had won the war!
There’d be no Nazis in The Whitehouse, that’s for sure
We’d all have homes for heroes, there’d be no Jan 6 zeroes
There’d be refuge for the needy and the poor
If we had won the war!

Oh, how different, if we had won the war!
We’d want for nowt, and never need for more
One nation under God
Even if you think that’s odd
And everybody welcome at our shore
If we had won the war!

If we had won the war, there’d be no Nazis at our door
No Nazis in Reform UK or even down that UKIP way
If we had won the war, there’d be no Nazis at our door
No Nazis in The Whitehouse, that’s for sure
If we had won the war

Oh, how different, if we had won the war!
Working would never be a chore
We’d all know fair is fair
And billionaires would pay their share
There’d be no Nazis in The Whitehouse, that’s for sure
If we had won the war!

If we had won the war, there’d be no Nazis at our door
No Nazis in Reform UK or even down that UKIP way
If we had won the war, there’d be no Nazis at our door
No Nazis in The Whitehouse, that’s for sure
If we had won the war

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47

47 goes to get it right
47 goes and no end in sight
47 goes to get it right
They’re gonna need the Fentanyl to get ‘em through the night

It’s Trump-tastic, policy elastic
What he said yesterday
Ain’t what he’s gonna say today
Like what’s today’s favourite word?
What’s today’s favourite steaming turd?
It’s tariffs, tariff-tastic
Tariffs on cheap Chinese plastic
China, nowhere finer
For your cheap Chinese plastic MAGA crap
Your cheap Chinese plastic MAGA hat
Meanwhile here’s a pile for the EU
Meanwhile here’s a pile for the UK too

47 goes to get it right
47 goes and no end in sight
47 goes to get it right
They’re gonna need the Fentanyl to get ‘em through the night

Not withstanding
Trump’s grandstanding
Trump’s expanding the MAGA empire
Trump’s expanding the MAGA desire
While there’s still no water
For the L.A. fire
California burns
While The President piddles
California burns
While The President tiddles
He won’t fill a bucket, he won’t fill a pail
But he’ll let the insurrectionists out of jail

47 goes to get it right
47 goes and no end in sight
47 goes to get it right
They’re gonna need the Fentanyl to get ‘em through the night

Unpatriotic patriots, keepers of the oath
Gimme a conspiracy, hell, give me both
A tin foil hat and an M-16
A beer belly, and dirty magazine
Yeah, gimme a conspiracy, hell, give me both
The KKK and the keepers of the oath
Mr. President’s own private militia
While a wide-brimmed hat won’t even let him kiss her
He’s eyeing up Canada and Panama
Where he says their economic interests are
He’s eyeing up Mexico and Greenland too
Like a spray-tanned Roman emperor might do

47 goes to get it right
47 goes and no end in sight
47 goes to get it right
They’re gonna need the Fentanyl to get ‘em through the night

It’s Trump-tastic, bombastic
Authoritarian, bordering barbarian
Wants to help Benny level Palestine
A dictator mate who ain’t benign
It’s Trump-tastic, it ain’t cute
His mates chucking up a Nazi salute
If you were looking for the fascists, my dear
Look no further, the fascists are here

47 goes to get it right
47 goes and no end in sight
47 goes to get it right
They’re gonna need the Fentanyl to get ‘em through the night
47 goes to get it right
47 goes and no end in sight
47 goes to get it right
They’re gonna need the Fentanyl to get ‘em through the night

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The Billionaires Are Leaving (But They Can’t Take Their Assets With Them, And They Never Paid Tax Anyway)

They’re packing up their space rockets and leaving
Britain is bleeding billionaires
But they can’t take their fixed assets with them
So nobody but Rachel really cares

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Growth

She blames it on the bats
She blames it on the newts
She blames it on the NIMBYs
And their neighbourhood disputes

She blames it on the folk
Who don’t want her to succeed
She blames it on the growth
Of a protected species

She blames it on the planners
And people in The South
She says we look like lunatics
The things we care about

She wants growth
Growth
Growth
Economic growth

She wants growth
Growth
Growth
Economic growth

She wants growth
Economic growth
When did that ever
Make your life get any better

She wants growth
Economic growth
When did that ever
Make your life get any better

She says be more like Donald
Who says everything is great
She says she would be honoured
If he would be her mate

She blames it on the newts
She blames it on the bats
He blames it on the immigrants
Who eat dogs and cats

She wants growth
Growth
Growth
Economic growth

She wants growth
Growth
Growth
Economic growth

She wants growth
Economic growth
When did that ever
Make your life get any better

She wants growth
Economic growth
When did that ever
Make your life get any better

She wants growth
She needs GDP
Without it she’ll have to tax
The super-wealthy

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Fascist By The Numbers

Elon is a fascist, who knew?
Does that mean that Donald is a fascist too?

Well, let’s count the ways, starting at one
Does he keep the company of fascist chums?
That’s a given, what about two?
Does he blame people who don’t look like me and you?
Absolutely! The enemy
Simultaneously powerful and weak, at three

At four, the opposition
Who he keeps threatening to put in prison

A messianic hero, at five
An assassin’s bullet and he’s still alive

Okay, but what about six?
Does Donald have any other fascist tricks?
Plenty, like the cult of tradition
Typical of a man in his position

Six? Okay, now is that all you’ve got?
At seven his obsession that there’s some kind of plot
You must remember QAnon and all that jazz
Conspiracies like every good fascist has

At eight, action, for action’s sake
“It’s gonna be beautiful”, is Donald’s take
With macho, macho weapons at any excuse
He already said he’s gonna let all hell break loose
If another nation doesn’t tow the line
Which, if I count correctly, brings us up to nine

Authoritarian, that’s in at ten
At eleven, gender limited to women and men
Twelve, there’s no sitting on the fence
Anyone not for him is counted as against
Thirteen? Well, he’s a populist
And fourteen is the end of Umberto’s list

Is Donald a fascist? Let’s count the ways
Brace yourselves people for dark, dark days

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