Tag: Rishi Sunak

Swastikas in the Sand

The tide’s been going out for ages
Rishi’s got a bucket and spade
There’s a little bit less to go around these days
So Rishi’s got a new game
He knows he’s not the most popular kid
But Rishi’s got a plan
The tide’s been going out for ages
And he’s drawing swastikas in the sand

Swastikas in the sand
He’s drawing swastikas in the sand
The tide’s been going out for ages
And he’s drawing swastikas in the sand

Jonathan and Lee think that Rishi’s fab
They want to join in the game
Please let us play with you Rishi
This lark should really have a name
I’m going to call it Stop the Boats
Whoever’s on them just gets banned
The tide’s been going out for ages
And they’re drawing swastikas in the sand

Swastikas in the sand
They’re drawing swastikas in the sand
The tide’s been going out for ages
And they’re drawing swastikas in the sand

There’s hundreds and millions and billions
Suella joins the game with glee
I bet I can stop the boats the best
Oh Rishi, won’t you play with me
We can pretend they’re all evil
And we should never let them land
The tide’s been going out for ages
And she’s drawing swastikas in the sand

Swastikas in the sand
She’s drawing swastikas in the sand
The tide’s been going out for ages
And she’s drawing swastikas in the sand

Swastikas in the sand
They’re drawing swastikas in the sand
The tide’s been going out for ages
And they’re drawing swastikas in the sand

by Categories: Lyrics, SteveTags: , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Stop the Boats

Diddy Rishi Dastardly’s petard will soon be hoist
“Yes General”, he says to the off-screen muffled voice
But Zilly’s done a runner, he thinks Rwanda isn’t fair
And Klunk has got a legal plan that hasn’t got a prayer
While Dastardly just wants the Vulture Squadron in the air
‘Cause Yankee Doodle Refugee will lose him Red Wall votes
While Muttley snickers “medal”, he’s crying “Stop the boats!”

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , , , , Leave a comment

Money Goes to Money

They’re running rather than getting beat
They’re starting to vote with their feet
The rats are leaving faster than the ship can sink
Like their shit doesn’t stink
Like their shit ain’t on the brink
Like it ain’t shit to think
That money goes to money is okay
That money goes to money is the only way
That money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

Meanwhile in an imaginary navy
Penny’s insincere smile
Mouths coyly look at me
Admire my philanthropy
Admire my new food pantry
While opposing free school meals
Don’t that just hit you in the feels?
A proper Scrooge turned fake Marley
As the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

The posties on the picket know
They’ve got to hold the line
Firefighters, nurses, teachers
Among the left behind
As the money goes to money
And the warm bank number grows
The money goes to money
And the pubs begin to close
As the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

They ain’t here to manage the crisis
Just the TV news
This morning’s media message is
Another excuse to bruise
The money goes to money
As they put the word about
That there ain’t no money
You’ll just have to do without
As the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

Lynch’s mob don’t need to strike
The train’s already fucked
And Mrs Smith’s replacement hips
Well, she’s just out of luck
Hancock, pushed, jumped anyway
Says he’s still got lots to say
Not even in opposition
Would there be a point to listen
While the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

The money knows no borders
The money knows no shame
The money only hears the sighs
Of the rich who coo its name
Like Michelle, Robber Baroness
The PPE millionairess
Banished as Rishi fakes it tough
She’ll be back soon enough
As the money goes to money
Goes to money goes to money

Money goes to money
While the rest get less and less
Money goes to money
What a fuckin’ mess

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

The 21st Century Money Trick

Every day of your life
Every penny you make
You’re gonna spend it
On the things that you need
The things that you want
You’re gonna beg, borrow, steal or lend it
But in the morning when Rishi gets out of bed
In his account there’s even more of your bread
Because the money always trickles up
When they say it trickles down

Now Rishi will tell ya
He’s a jolly fine fella
Who sorted your furlough out
But who did he pay
At the end of the day
Those with or those without
‘Cause he borrowed loads of money, gave it to me and you
And we went and spent it all on bills and food
And that’s how furlough trickled up
When they said it trickled down

It’s the 21st Century money trick
Same as the old one but twice as quick
Borrow loads of money at the public expense
And get ‘em to spend it with your wealthy friends

The stuff you need to buy
You inevitably buy
From a billionaire
Whose money makes money
Just on account
Of being loads and being there
So there’s a hole in your pocket where your wages go
While his pile of money continues to grow
And that’s how the money trickles up
When they say it trickles down

It’s the 21st Century money trick
Same as the old one but twice as quick
Borrow loads of money at the public expense
And get ‘em to spend it with your wealthy friends

Every day of your life
Every penny you earn
You’re gonna spend it
But in the billionaire’s garden
The money tree grows
Well defended
‘Cause your work makes money, but his money makes money
So when it rains on you, he’s still sunny
And that’s how the money trickles up
When they say it trickles down

by Categories: Lyrics, SteveTags: , , , , , , Leave a comment

The Point

There’s a point to this and the point is this
He’s very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very
Very, very, very, very rich

It don’t matter that he’s Hindu, Buddhist, Anglican or Jew
Member of the Church of the Latter Day Dude
He could be an atheist, Taoist or a Jainist
An only-goes-at-Christmas, or a Catholic priest
What matters is he’s very, very, very, very, very, very
Very, very, very, very rich

It don’t matter he’s South Asian, though a nice change from Caucasian
He might as well be Bajan, Filipino or Malaysian
He might as well have landed in an alien space invasion
What matters is he’s very, very, very, very, very, very
Very, very, very, very rich

It don’t matter that his mum ran the local pharmacy
She could have made a living catching fishes in the sea
Or been a minor member of a foreign royalty
Or the woman at a non-league football club that makes the tea
What matters is he’s very, very, very, very, very, very
Very, very, very, very rich

It don’t matter how much money Boris Johnson’s got
Or the size of Liz Truss’s 44-day pension pot
He’s the Prime Minister and thankfully they’re not
And like them he’s very, very, very, very, very, very
Very, very, very, very rich

It matters that he’s very, very rich
Because he presides over policies which
Scratch the greediest of greediest itch
And at poverty doesn’t so much flinch or twitch
And that’s the pitch that for a decade or more
The biggest growth is the gap between the rich and the poor
Knock, knock, there’s a landlord at your door
As the own-you-own-homing middle class
Reliable elbows to the Tories’ arse
Are soon becoming a thing of the past….

There’s a point to this and the point is this
He’s very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very
Very, very, very, very rich

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , , , Leave a comment

Sunak vs. Truss: The TV Debates

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?

by Categories: poetry, SteveTags: , , , , , , Leave a comment

The Children of the First XV

A teenage state school rugby player
Could marvel at the examples
Among the fee-paying opposition
Bigger and better in every position
And every respect
From wrist to thigh and arm to head
Glossier, brighter, whiter
Quite obviously better bred
Better fed, on better bread

These giants who roamed the land
From families who owned the land
(And freely used the word ‘alas’
When deigning to see their lads
At half term)
Were clearly of a better stock
From full back to loosehead prop and back
Chock full of born-to-lead-ness
That our team somehow lacked

As we left the playing fields of England behind
To turn our noses to the daily grind
They rose to take their rightful place
In the grand offices of state
To bray, debate, deliberate
And make the regulations and the laws
That daily will affect us all

Marcus plays a very different game
Co-opted early to the Order of the British Empire
An uncomfortable title
But recognition all the same
He seeks to shame
Those with the power to make a change
In this time of national crisis
To extend a free school meal a day
Into the Christmas holiday
Though tempered is the hope that he’ll succeed
For the children of the first fifteen
It’s a meal they’ll never need

by Categories: COVID-19, poetry, SteveTags: , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Rishi Sunak (We Know a Song About You)

Oh dear, Rishi
You’ve pissed off the people
Who like to rhyme
Who like tell stories
Who like to keep good time

Oh dear, Rishi
You’ve pissed off the minstrels
The entertainers
The chroniclers
The maintainers
Of the culture
Of the hope
Of the real story
Of our times

Oh dear, Rishi
You forgot the golden rule
That all that glitters is not gold
That money can’t buy you love, Love
That value can’t always be measured
In pound notes
Not even close

Oh dear, Rishi
You forgot
That we know the words
That people sing
And people hum
That we know the tunes
That people whistle
And people strum

Rishi Sunak we know a song about you
No better than the other Tories in your crew
Rishi Sunak, fuck you

EDIT: Full Fact are now reporting that Sunak didn’t say that musicians and other people working in the arts and creative sectors should all re-train and ITV have modified their headline and deleted their tweet accordingly.

But you know what? Fuck him, anyway. The Musicians’ Union recently published a survey of their members which reported that 70% can’t do more than a quarter of their pre-COVID work but 38% of them aren’t eligible for the government’s support schemes. His hands are nowhere near clean.

And let’s not forget Edwina Currie telling LBC’s Iain Dale that “you can’t save all the puppies”.

by Categories: COVID-19, Lyrics, SteveTags: , , , , , , 1 Comment

My COVID Discount

I’m heading off down the Mount
I’m checking my bank account
I’m going for a meal out
With my COVID discount

Rishi said for 13 days in August
A discount of up to a tenner a head
If you want to redeem you must
Sit in when you break your bread

I’m heading off down the Mount
I’m checking my bank account
I’m going for a meal out
With my COVID discount

It’s like herd immunity didn’t happen
To quite enough of the herd
So get your best togs and get your slap on
And get those aerosol drops transferred

I’m heading off down the Mount
I’m checking my bank account
I’m going for a meal out
With my COVID discount

Rishi said Eat Out to Help Out
Check your local restaurant out
Gotta get yourselves out and about
Ride the economic roundabout

I’m heading off down the Mount
I’m checking my bank account
I’m going for a meal out
With my COVID discount

 

by Categories: COVID-19, Lyrics, SteveTags: , , , , 1 Comment

Trust

You can’t trust Bozo to squash a sombrero
You can’t trust Matt with an app
You can’t trust Dominic to take a knee
Or any of the three with PPE

You can’t trust Bozo to squash a sombrero
You can’t trust Matt with an app
You can’t trust Jacob not to take a nap
Or any of that world beating crap

You can’t trust anything they do or say
I never trusted Tories anyway

You can’t trust Bozo to squash a sombrero
You can’t trust Matt with an app
You can’t trust Dominic with an eyetest
You can’t trust Priti in the slightest

You can’t trust Bozo to squash a sombrero
You can’t trust Matt with an app
You can’t trust Rishi with the dinero
Or any of that world-beating crap

Ideology or incompetence, you choose
Whichever way your coin toss lands
It’s heads they win and tails you lose

You can’t trust Bozo to squash a sombrero
You can’t trust Matt with an app
You can’t trust Michael with anything vital
Or any of that world-beating crap

You can’t trust Bozo to squash a sombrero
You can’t trust Matt with an app
You can’t trust Gavin with your schools
You can’t trust this cabinet of fools

You can’t trust Bozo to squash a sombrero
You can’t trust Matt with an app
You can’t trust Grant, you just can’t
And none of that world-beating crap

You can’t trust anything they do or say
I never trusted Tories anyway

You can’t trust Bozo to squash a sombrero
You can’t trust Matt with an app
You can’t trust Michael with anything vital
Or any of that world-beating crap

by Categories: COVID-19, Lyrics, SteveTags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment