Spaffer’s on a war footing
Above criticism
Posing for pictures in a fighter plane
Spaffer’s on a war footing
Forget Partygate
It’s war for political advantage
Again
Spaffer’s on a war footing
Appearing Churchillian
When he closes his eyes
To better fantasise
Spaffer’s on a war footing
God help us
It wouldn’t be the first time the bodies piled high
Shoot first
Ask questions later
Ange is reaching for her gun
Don’t get on the wrong side
Of Sheriff Rayner
Or you just might get done
Here’s how to impress the Chief, Sir Kier
Here’s how to win back the red wall
Round up your posse of miscreants
Get ‘em up against the wall
Shoot first, ask questions later
Shoot first, ask questions later
Shoot first, ask questions later
Don’t get on the wrong side
Of Sheriff Rayner
Don’t get on the wrong side
Don’t get on the wrong side
Don’t get on the wrong side
Of Sheriff Rayner
Listen to me, in my new serious voice,
We’re going to war; we don’t have a choice,
So, here’s a picture of me, with my new serious hair
In a serious tank, while our brave troops prepare.
Pay attention to me and my new serious face,
I’m ready to put Vladimir back in his place
But don’t ask me questions, I’m here to be imperious
And impress upon you that things are very serious,
With my serious voice and my serious hair
Because going to war is a serious affair.
And while I offer the Prime Minister my full support
I’ll be seriously ready when it’s time to cut him short.
There are ten different types of liar, he said
And that was a lie as well
He finds it as easy to tell an untruth
As he does the truth to tell
Of all the liars in all of the world
He’s the most comfortable liar you’ve heard
So, now we’re learning to live,
Learning to live with the lies
Learning to live with the lies that we’re told
Learning to live with the lies that we’re sold
Learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
45 minutes from mass destruction
Millions of pounds on the side of a bus
A programme of new hospital construction
And then they say that it’s all about us
Whenever there’s something they want us to do
They just find it easier to hide the truth
And now we’re learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
Learning to live with the lies that we’re told
Learning to live with the lies that we’re sold
Learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
There are big lies, little lies
Dirty lies, white lies
Lies to seem clean
And lies to the Queen
Smooth lies, compulsive lies
Bold lies, deceptive lies
Fake news, half truths
And lying as routine
Disinformation
Exaggeration
Lying as omission
They’re a lying machine
Weasel words, perjury
Minimising, puffery
Polite lies, paltering
Their lying is obscene
Their lies are obscene
(So now we’re)
Learning to live with the lies that we’re told
Learning to live with the lies that we’re sold
Learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
Learning to live with the lies that we’re told
Learning to live with the lies that we’re sold
Learning to live
Learning to live with the lies
When the cut and thrust of politics is real
When the cut and paste apologies are fake
When facts matter less than what you feel
And truth and lies are given equal weight
When “I get it” and “I’ll fix it” are a sham
When extremists are emboldened by your act
When you genuinely couldn’t give a damn
And your policy does nothing but distract
When you use your privilege to tell a lie
When you prey upon the people’s hopes and fears
When a violent act is something that you buy
Or else incite by very public smears
When contrition is a barely fleeting phase
Before deceitful boasting rears its head once more
When history is written by the days
Each sentence worse than the one before
When you’re leading them without a destination
When you’re leaving them to fend for themselves
When self-confidence is your only salvation
It’s time to start to draft your farewells
When the authorities are knocking at your door
When your champions look the other way
When your last-ditch distraction is a war
Then accept that this big dog has had his day
Platinum Liz crowned Queen Camilla
On the date her father died
Showed her round the big council house
Saying this is the palace in which you’ll reside
With his and hers bathrooms for you and King Charlie
And his and hers butlers for your toothpaste squeezing
His and hers medals, after all it’s your army
And his and hers royal protection policing
Saying, “One day, all of this will be yours”
Ignore the liar down the road
Who partied when I laid my Phil to rest
He’s just a self-centred, selfish toad
Who thinks he’s better than the rest
I hear he said it’ll take a Panzer division
I dunno what possessed him
He’s forgotten our family’s historical position
And a German tank ain’t out of the question
He’s turned the governance of my green and pleasant land
Into a reality TV show
But the monarchy always remains
When it’s time for the likes of him to go
Saying, “One day, all of this will be yours”
Platinum Liz crowned Queen Camilla
On another day that the people were starving
On a day they debated the cost of living
And her Tory party were openly laughing
Platinum Liz crowned Queen Camilla
Top of her list of jubilee honours
While the people chose between food and warmth
And the foodbanks now outnumbered McDonalds
Now the kids are singing, “Off with their heads”
Platinum Liz crowned Queen Camilla
You know she’s got the means to end poverty
But sharing’s never been in the job description
When wealth and power is hereditary
Now the kids are singing, “Off with their heads”
Spaffer Bodycount’s in the Ukraine
While back home Sue’s not named a name
Nor has Cressida, whose investigative prognosis
Is to name no names in a fixed penalty notice
We now see Save Big Dog in action
A report without need for redaction
Cites numerous cases of bad behaviour
Leadership and judgement failure
Bullying and drinking culture
All the fault of the management structure
Thus, the investigation, admittedly provisional
Finds fault with no named individual
The ensuing debate in Parliament
Saw the speaker end the argument
By throwing the SNP’s Blackford out
With a smirk on Bodycount’s face throughout
The Scotsman’s crime? To tell the truth
Obvious to even the most hapless sleuth
That the PM without doubts
Had once more mislead the house
The rules of Parliament, it transpires
Protect the members from being called liars
With more weight lent to disrespect
Than statements patently correct
While protecting the scoundrel prepared to channel
The ghost of paedophile Jimmy Savile
(Let’s not forget that distain
For investigation of the same
Is what gave Spaffer his name)
But back to the report itself
Before it’s found a convenient shelf
Compiled by the woman responsible
For MP Damien Green’s downfall
When he touched Kate Maltby inappropriately
And used work time to watch pornography
She also did a review, less blue
Of what was said at Plebgate too
But on Partygate she’s circumspect
As we’ve already come to expect
Handing over, on its release,
Responsibility to the police
Who’ve already hinted their intention
Is for names to not be mentioned
So as Save Big Dog hit its peak
It was time for Starmer to speak
With calls for integrity and honesty
Action with moral authority
Not the cruel smirks of superiority
Protected by an eighty-seat majority
But his calls for Bodycount to resign
Would require a leader with a spine
Not a naughty kid prepared to try
To hide behind a preposterous lie
So obvious and fake
As ambushed by a birthday cake
But if the 1922 Committee
By clever speech or desperate pity
Allow Bodycount to stay in role
Then they’d to well to avoid a poll
All of which now say
The public think he’s had his day
His loyalists, increasingly few
Have got some catching up to do
Like Truss, newly deep of voice
And Dorries who, if given the choice
Would rather another G&T
Than an interview on the TV
News just in, by the way
That the Met Police now say
That if Bodycount is handed a fine
Then he will be named at the time
So, if Dame Dick’s prepared to deny him
How much time will this trip buy him?
‘Cause Spaffer Bodycount’s in the Ukraine
A stateman-like wave on the steps of the plane
Can’t explain to a nation in pain
From do-as-I-sayers, not do-as-I-doers
With families in castles and morals in sewers
With lockdowns for you and parties for them
And lies again and again and again
That it’s one rule for them and another for you
Just how long do you think that he thinks that will do?
Will he resign? Will he be forced out? Will the 1922 Committee get their 54 letters? (Just how archaic is this process?) Or will we have to build a statue of him and throw it in the Thames? Who knows? But in the meantime, a little gentle encouragement Protest Family-style, or the theme tune to a celebration. Let’s see…
The Speaker of the House doesn’t speak, he shouts
And doesn’t call the PM out
On the lies he spouts,
And when he answers a different question to the one that’s asked,
He gets a pass,
As unchallenged as his misogyny
Referring to the women questioners as ‘she’
And to the men
As right honourable friends.
And calls for him to correct the record
From the baying horde
Are just ignored.
At PMQs
Sir Kier said, “Bring your own boos”,
A witty retort
No doubt given much thought
But an acknowledgement just the same
That this is all somehow a game,
Played out again
When a fella who likes kicking refugees,
Burning down the trees and tax avoidance schemes,
Crossed the floor
To Labour applause,
While a man of genuine integrity
Still sits in a whip-less constituency.
Is it any wonder then
There are loads of people who when asked
Say, “Why should I care
What happens in there?
It’s clearly just panto,
And it’s not Christmas”.
And that’s the way
Operation Save Big Dog
Survives another day.
Banning wine time Friday
Kicking at the BBC
Buller! Buller! Buller!
Operation Red Meat
Sending in the navy
To harass the refugee
Buller! Buller! Buller!
Operation Red Meat
Tell ‘em what they want to hear
Daily ‘til we’re in the clear
Buller! Buller! Buller!
Operation Red Meat
The NHS backlog again
Eased by private medicine
Buller! Buller! Buller!
Operation Red Meat
Cover your hypocrisy
With populist new policy
Buller! Buller! Buller!
Operation Red Meat
Save Big Dog to shift the blame
Red Meat to stay in the game
Buller! Buller! Buller!
Operation Red Meat
Steve White & The Protest Family 