Racist Bob went to Handsworth
As close to a slum as I’ve come, he said
As close to numb as a bum, in his head
That’s been sat on for too long
As long as Bob’s been wrong
I didn’t see another white face, he said
Er, but it’s not about race, he said
That racist Bob
He thinks racism is fashionable
And he’s after the top job
Is Racist Bob
Tag: politics
Monsters
People are on the menu
People live in fear
The knives and forks are out
The monsters are here
People are on the menu
Snatch squads are at large
The knives and forks are out
When the monsters are in charge
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
And making the people wanna eat people too
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
And making the people wanna eat people too
Self-crowned and self- appointed
They’ll tell you they’re your choice
While all channels broadcast
His monster’s voice
Fear of the monster
Fear of the fork
Fear breeds acquiescence
And all that up the monster talk
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
And making the people wanna eat people too
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
And making the people wanna eat people too
Behold our loyalty they cry
Hoist up the monster flag
Eat the brown ones first they plead
Their patriotic brag
There’s monster work to fulfil
You better understand
The monster’s here by God’s will
And sat at his right hand
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
And making the people wanna eat people too
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
And making the people wanna eat people too
They’re gonna take the monsters’ share
And the monsters’ share keeps growing
And tell the people that it’s fair
It’s other people that are owing
They’re gonna take the monsters’ share
And the monsters’ share keeps growing
That’s why they’re eating people
‘Cos it’s people that are owing
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
And making the people wanna eat people too
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
They’re eating people
And making the people wanna eat people too-oo-oo
Too-oo-oo
Too-oo-oo
(They’re Eating The) Swans
They’re eating the swans says Derek
They’re eating the swans in the Royal Park
Shut up Derek says Margaret
Stop being so daft
I heard it this morning on LBC
Where nothing is true so anything could be
In Clacton, it’s Derek’s take
That fake news is real, and real news is fake
When the MP shares a racist trope
The MP’s that kinda racist bloke
An MP who shares a racist hoax
Then covers his tracks with a just misspoke
Tropes to cover his tracks
Avoiding questions about his tax
And callers on the phone
Asking whose money paid for his Clacton home
When nothing is true, anything could be
When nothing is true, anything could be
When nothing is true, anything could be
And Nigel is the type of bloke
Who likes to share a racist trope
As you can see
Meanwhile across the pond
The stories correspond
They’re eating the dogs, they’re eating the cats
Are Donny’s version of the facts
Dropping racist bombs
Makes you wonder where Nigel gets it from
A taxi driver he says
Is where he gets his facts these days
When nothing is true, anything could be
When nothing is true, anything could be
When nothing is true, anything could be
And Nigel is the type of bloke
Who likes to share a racist trope
As you can see
They’re bringing in shariah law, says Derek
I heard it on LBC
Nigel’s taxi driver says so
And who am I to disagree
They’re eating the swans says Derek
It’s our MP’s hot take
When nothing is true in Clacton
Fake news is real and real news is fake
When nothing is true, anything could be
When nothing is true, anything could be
When nothing is true, anything could be
And Nigel is the type of bloke
Who likes to share a racist trope
As you can see
When nothing is true, anything could be
When nothing is true, anything could be
When nothing is true, anything could be…..
Indefinite Leave To Remain
Nigel wants to kick out his girlfriend
Nigel wants to kick out his ex
An end to indefinite leave to remain
Them first, you next
Nigel’s borrowing policy
From the BNP and National Front
Even the right-wing papers say
Nigel’s an unworkable stunt
Flags, Rallies, Parties, People, and Stories
“Kier Starmer is a wanker,” the far-right rally chants.
“Kier Starmer is a wanker,” the counter-protesters reply. And there’s moment of unity in which this all makes a bit of sense.
I was on flag watch last week, cycling around Essex and driving to football matches, and the good news is that festooned lampposts and spraypainted mini roundabouts remain relatively rare in this part of the world, mainly centred around the flashpoints that you’d expect.
In the main, I believe, the flags, the lampposts, the roundabouts, and so on are the work of the far-right, of activists who are genuinely racist, Islamophobic and the rest, but not the work of the likes of the majority of people who attended Tommy Robinson’s demonstration in London just over a week ago, keen to declare that they’re not far-right, that they’re not all of the above, despite being at an event organised by people who are overtly just that.
What they are is scared. They’re scared, they’re angry, and they’re lashing out. Their living standards have fallen, taking their children’s prospects with them, and their future is predicted to contain nothing more than the same, while war appears closer than at any time in a generation, and nobody is listening to them. So they’re taking refuge in identity – English, white, working class – and taking umbrage with a government, with a political system, that they see as valuing everything that isn’t those things. They’re not racist towards their neighbours but they think that immigration is the biggest problem facing the country right now, they love their gay friends but they think that equality has gone too far, and even if their Englishness isn’t wrapped up in greatness and empire, it at least equates being English as being good, as being better than this.
And while confronting fascists remains a must, just telling people that they’re wrong about their identity, that they’re wrong about the impact of immigration on their lives, that they’re wrong about equality, doesn’t get us very far. Because feelings trump facts, because “the people of this country have had enough of experts”, because the lies don’t matter if they support how you feel about things.
Can music change the world? Billy Bragg gives a qualified no. Woody Guthrie and Joe Hill may well have said yes, and I might too. The best songs, the best songwriters, tell stories. Stories that show rather than tell, and if we want to ask people to reconsider their identity, their position, if we want to change how they feel, then we need to show them, not just tell them.
And so should politics.
Imagine a nationally co-ordinated, grassroots socialist party, let’s call them Your Party, who use some of their membership subscriptions to directly improve the lives of people in communities suffering at the hands of successive governments’ policies, maybe by reopening a library or a community centre or supporting a homelessness scheme that got people off the streets and into permanent accommodation. Starting small but doing something every month. Imagine them being able to say, look what we can do with the limited funds available to us now, imagine what we could do with the resources of government. Imagine them showing, not just telling.
Oh well.
There’s been a lot of telling this last week. A negotiation by mass email and tweet. (Can we please stop using X?). But it’s not their party, it’s ours; that’s the point. It’s up to us to decide if it’s over before it started or not.
And we have better stories to share.
Your Party
Fifty-five pounds’ worth of hope
Fifty-five pounds’ worth of luck
Fifty-five pounds’ worth fairer future
Fifty-five pounds’ worth of what the fuck
A Second State Visit
The flags are out for the predators
The flags are out for the sex pests
From Tommy’s long list of abusers
To Epstein’s special guest
The flags are out for the Rapist-in-Chief
Meet the King, wave to the crowd
The flags are out for the predators
Don’t it make you fuckin’ proud
Oh England (Can You Tell Me Where It Hurts?)
This land of riches, this land of rags
This land of lampposts and angry flags
Of roundabouts and hasty tags
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
This land of swine, this land of pearls
This land of violence ‘gainst women and girls
This land that squints out at the world
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
The pain is real
The pain is there
The pain you feel
The pain’s unfair
When you feel there’s nowhere left to turn
History has a lesson
You need to learn
Is it the hours and days on hold
The choice of hunger or of cold
Just the sheer lack of control
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Is it the blank-faced lawyer and his blank-faced crew
Paralysed without a clue
When they say they know what to do
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
The pain is real
The pain is there
The pain you feel
The pain’s unfair
When you feel there’s nowhere left to turn
History has a lesson
You need to learn
This land of hope and former glory
Rich colour in the nation’s story
By land and sea and century
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
This land of wider still and wider
Shrinking in the light of day
Of awkward empire pride and shame
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
This land of drawbridges and moats
This land of pointless wasted votes
This land obsessed with small boats
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Oh England, can you tell me where it hurts
Shot With Guns
It’s their Second Amendment right, they say
To carry a gun
Just in case they feel the need
To shoot someone
The price they pay, they say
For carrying guns
Is quite a long list
Of shot someones
There goes another one
There goes another one
On the long list of someones
Shot with guns
This one’s name was Charlie
Not a nice chap
But not nice ain’t no reason
To get shot at
On tour with his horror show
And on the MAGA cheque
Poor old Nasty Charlie
Got one in the neck
There goes another one
There goes another one
On the long list of someones
Shot with guns
They’ve got school shootings
They’ve got mall shootings
They’ve got police shootings
They’ve got belief shootings
They’ve got fear shootings
They’ve even got ear shootings
And a long list of someones shot with guns
There goes another one
There goes another one
On the long list of someones
Shot with guns
The Flag
The news is vile, the comments worse
This septic isle is in reverse
They say there’s debt to reimburse
While rich folk rob the public purse
Their greed exceeds your hour of need
While leaders short in word and deed
Let the reins of power concede
To a frog-faced smoking man in tweed
And the trick they play they say the flag is yours
Flown at one world cup and two world wars
A tawdry cross daubed across any old white rag
I’ll never swear allegiance to the flag
They’ll have you pledge a sacred vow
They’ll take salutes, you scrape and bow
Forbid what they do not allow
So long as you do not ask how
They got there and you got here
With cigarettes and pints of beer
From school to stock market career
You know it’s clear, you know it’s fear
And the trick they play they say the flag is yours
Flown at one world cup and two world wars
A tawdry cross daubed across any old white rag
I’ll never swear allegiance to the flag
It ain’t our flag, it’s handed down
By billionaire, state and crown
It ain’t our flag for taking back
Our colours include brown and black
It ain’t our flag loaded with fear
It ain’t our flag, it won’t fly here
And the trick they play they say the flag is yours
Flown at one world cup and two world wars
A tawdry cross daubed across any old white rag
I’ll never swear allegiance to the flag
And the trick they play they say the flag is yours
Flown at one world cup and two world wars
A tawdry cross daubed across any old white rag
I’ll never swear allegiance to the flag
Steve White & The Protest Family 