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
Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
They’re talking ‘bout the price of gas They say handouts are kinda crass The sinking ship’s still fulla rats Who like to think they’re friends with cats
(While) Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
They’re talking ‘bout the price of you The pay rise that you’re due They’re telling you to join the queue For the credit card they overdrew
(And) Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
If in the morning they were all gone Everyone would see the con If the billionaires had upped and run All the work would still get done
(While) Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
Fat cats Get fatter Fat cats Get fatter Fat cats Get fatter Fat cats Get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
They’re literally printing money (not literally) Their uplands are always sunny While the country descends into poverty They’re all on fuckin’ holiday
(‘Cause) Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires The bosses the bankers and the billionaires The bosses the bankers and the billionaires The bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter Fat cats get fatter and you don’t matter To the bosses the bankers and the billionaires Fat cats get fatter
This September, we’ll celebrate ten years since we drove the fascists out of Walthamstow.
I remember walking up a packed Hoe Street, past closed and shuttered shopfronts, with the notable exception of the Rose & Crown of course, thinking “This is big”, but it wasn’t until we got to Bell Corner that I realised quite how big. Over four thousand local people, anti-fascists and trade unionists had turned up to oppose the racist EDL who had been escorted to Blackhorse Road with the intention of marching through our community to a rally outside the Magistrates Court and whose numbers barely troubled two hundred.
Met with opposition from local people from the moment they set foot outside the tube station, their route blocked by thousands of us at a key junction, forced into the back streets and literally wetting themselves in a police kettle in Farnan Avenue, and their leaders surrounded by anti-fascists in Forest Road, it’s fair to say that that Tommy Robinson and co. did not have a good day.
Like Roger says, most people aren’t racist.
To mark the anniversary, there’s a whole series of events which can be found here, including us playing a show at the Trades Hall, with tickets available here.
In honour of the occasion, we’re also re-releasing the Double B-Side, The Day We Kicked The Fascists Out Of Walthamstow (Graham Larkbey & The Escapees) c/w No Pasaran In E17 (Steve White & The Protest Family). It’s a free download and you can find it here.
Witchfinder Sir Kier coming round here Coming round here with his column in The Sun With his political flies undone Coming round here to prosecute a witch hunt Coming round here he’s got some front
Witchfinder Sir Kier coming round here Coming round here frayed at the edges Coming round here breaking his pledges Coming round here with his Tory stripes Coming round here not supporting the strikes
Witchfinder Sir Kier coming round here Coming round here distanced from ideas Abandoning our health to Tory donors and peers Coming round here misunderstanding our community Coming round here spreading disunity
Witchfinder Sir Kier coming round here And if you criticise him you’ll be out on your ear
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
She’s cosplaying poor He’s a mansplaining bully There are points to be scored If her memory’s woolly Of nice days in Roundhay She wants you to choose Between her cheapo Claire’s earrings And his posh Prada shoes I’m the son of a chemist Rich Rishi declares I helped serve curry And with Mum’s tax affairs But he’s interrupting Like privilege does The audience deducting For his hedge fund boss buzz While both of ‘em forget That they’re part of the problem What they promise to fix Was just broken by ‘em They disagree on tax hikes But both agree to break strikes Mick Lynch was right About how far they’re right It’s the choice of a kicking From her boots or his shoes Come September Who will Waitrose Woman choose?
From Yorkshire tea farms to British cheese And broken treaties to spats with the Chinese And mixing up the Black and the Baltic seas She has the support of 86 MPs
From a Mrs T haircut and a picture in a tank To ducking debates where she might draw a blank She wants to squeeze families and bang the dumb She’s the Anyone But Rishi for your conservative chum
From the bloke off Have I Got News For You To the woman off I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue The shortcoming of ‘em running is as shocking as it’s stunning Brace yourselves Britain, the cheese woman is coming
Nurses using foodbanks Security tags on Lurpacks His legacy ain’t witty repartee That fella off the TV Blow me ain’t he funny It’s poverty And lies And blind eyes And meetings with spies The drive to privatise The drive to Barnard Castle too The first clue To another rule for you And racist too Deportations to Rwanda Priti Patel and her Dog whistle, but the agenda’s his The question master for a boozy lockdown quiz The lies are his The sex pests his The rule makers breaking rules are his Corrupt is what it is Government on behalf of bosses, bankers and billionaires The people about whom he cares So wish him bye, bye and farewell And he can fuck off from there as well And when he walks, let him keep walking Don’t ever tune in when he’s talking Don’t read his books or his columns Because you were never his problem He’d let you starve for political gain And we don’t want to see him round here again
Steve White & The Protest Family 