Jacob’s Fish Are Happy Fish

Born in Hammersmith
Went to school at Eton
Then Trinity College
Oxford
Presided over the Tory
Association
Went into the City
Started a hedge fund
Amassed what they call
A significant fortune
Estimated worth
150 million
Married into money
Helen The Chair
A mate of his sister’s
Who was always there

Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish

Moved into politics
In ‘97
Didn’t get elected then
Or even at the next ‘un
In Scotland they though he was
Too posh
Canvassing with nanny
Got a resounding 9%
Fuck off, toff
Complained to Piggy Cameron
That his quotas weren’t right
Said parliament oughta be
95% white
Nicked a speech off Trevor Kavanagh
Faked an interview and then
Got a seat in North East Somerset
In 2010

Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish

In parliament he became
King of the filibuster
Thought he was funny
With his history and verse
Holding the record in the Commons
For the longest word spoken
But spoke other words
That were even worse
Addressing members of the far-right
Traditional Britain society
Who would have some of us
Made deportees
And said quarter of a million quid
Spent on MPs portraits
Was just chicken feed

Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish

He got a hand up into government
From a fellow Old Etonian
Leader of the House of Commons, no less
Then was kept away from the mics and the cameras
After he said the Grenfell victims
Lacked common sense
Now , chief Eurosceptic
Out of all the Eurosceptics
Said Trump will be our best ally
After Brexit
He likes Brits to be Brits
And the poor to be poor
And says gay marriage
Still breaks the church’s law

Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish

He broke the lockdown rules
‘Cos he prefers a Latin mass
His relationship with god
Is more important, more pious
Than your relationship
With coronavirus
He wasn’t born to follow
He was born to lead
And his vicious defence of the status quo
Is just born of greed

Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
Jacob’s fish are happy fish
But Jacob can just fuck off

Right Bullets, Wrong Gun

The right bullets fired from the wrong gun
Will miss their target one by one
There’s only one sharp shot in a Johnson
Now we’ve got the right bullets
In the wrong gun

When the truth as you tell it changes
From sunrise to sunset
When definitely safe means definitely not safe
This is the recoil that you’ll get
And you’re not as persuasive
As your Latin teacher told ya
And you’re relying on a fair wind
To get you that far
When no one believes you know
The what or the how
Not even JVT
Can help you now

The right bullets fired from the wrong gun
Missing their targets one by one
There’s only one sharp shot in a Johnson
It’s the right bullets
In the wrong gun

Don’t say
We are where we are
We are where we are, we are where we are
Where are we?
We are where we are
We are where we are, we are where we are
Don’t say where are we?

When the truth as you tell it changes
From speech to speech and ear to ear
When definitely safe means definitely not safe
This is the recoil that you fear
And you’re not as persuasive
As your Latin teacher told ya
And you’re relying on a fair wind
To get you that far
When no one believes you know
The what or the how
Not even JVT
Can help you now

The right bullets fired from the wrong gun
Missing their targets one by one
There’s only one sharp shot in a Johnson
It’s the right bullets
Fired by the wrong gun

The Golden-Haired Boy

It’s that awkward bit between Christmas and New Year when you’d struggle to find things to fill newspapers with anyway, never mind the pandemic, so one of the leading lights of the Tory press, riffing on the idea of Spaffer’s miracles following his rising from the near dead at Easter, publishes a story about his latest offspring’s wonderous artistic ability. Well, it is Christmas, and a story so preposterous that they couldn’t get a journalist to put their name to it.

It’s the Xmas perineum between the 25th and the 31st
You’ve eaten, drunk and been merry ‘til your fit to burst
There’s no football, no music, no pubs in Tier 4
Not much to do if you step out of your door

Is there anything to look forward to that ain’t austere?

Well, the golden-haired boy, just eight months old
The golden-haired boy, just eight months old
The golden-haired boy, just eight months old
Crafted a hand-painted image
Of a reindeer
Of a reindeer

There’s Driver Tizer lining the hedgerows of the Garden of England
British Variant COVID making its presence felt, and
Miles and miles of queues to get into Dover
Thousands of truckers wishing Christmas was over

Is there any news to help Tories be of good cheer?

Well, there’s a golden-haired boy, just eight months old
There’s a golden-haired boy, just eight months old
There’s a golden-haired boy, just eight months old
Who crafted a hand-painted image
Of a reindeer
Of a reindeer

‘Cos Spaffer might’ve nearly died for your sins
But it’s his miracle child that’s now the thing
With The Telegraph fawning over his painting
He’s clearly the one born to be king

This golden-haired boy, just eight months old
This golden-haired boy, just eight months old
(What number is he again?)
This golden-haired boy, just eight months old
Crafted a hand-painted miracle image
Hand-painted, miracle image
Of a reindeer
Of a reindeer

An Eyeful of Nose

Emma was cold and went shopping for clothes
The heating was broken and she nearly froze
But deficient face coverings wherever she goes
Meant all Emma got was an eyeful of nose

An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
All Emma got was an eyeful of nose
An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
Emma see noses wherever she goes

She went to the market for blankets and throws
Cheaper than fixing the boiler I s’pose
But the trader had bad bits of his face exposed
And all Emma got was an eyeful of nose

An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
All Emma got was an eyeful of nose
An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
Emma see noses wherever she goes

She went to the gym for a downward dog pose
Lots of exposed knees and elbows
In communal areas, face covering’s imposed
But all Emma got was an eyeful of nose

An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
All Emma got was an eyeful of nose
An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
Emma see noses wherever she goes

She went to the florist to buy a nice rose
To cheer up her cold flat and brighten shadows
But the florist’s mask was part in repose
And all Emma got was an eyeful of nose

An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
All Emma got was an eyeful of nose
An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
Emma see noses wherever she goes

Past the fire station at the crossroads
The firefighters were out practising with their hose
With facemasks left off to talk on radios
All Emma got was an eyeful of nose

An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
All Emma got was an eyeful of nose
An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
Emma see noses wherever she goes

She sat on a bench, this rhyme to compose
She’s always preferred a poem to prose
A little tale of face cover ratios
And the day all she got was an eyeful of nose

An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
All Emma got was an eyeful of nose
An eyeful of nose, an eyeful of nose
Emma see noses wherever she goes

Christmas With the Vulnerables

Mr and Mrs Vulnerable
The nice old dears
Have not seen much of anyone
Since March this year

Except the fella with the Tesco van
The DPD delivery man
Her next door, whose name is Anne
Who dropped them off some beer

But when they heard there was an armistice
For Christmas friends and relatives
They bought a tree and wrapped some gifts
Full of good cheer

It’s Christmas with the Vulnerables
It’s the most wonderful
Time of the year

Now, poor old Mrs Vulnerable
Has a little trouble
With her breathing
But the doctor ain’t seen her

She blames it on advancing years
A health and safety-free career
It’s been the same for all her peers
Who call it emphysema

But she’s invited all the family round
Ordered in a turkey crown
They’ve had a Christmas bubble count
And no-ones got a fever

So, it’s Christmas with the Vulnerables
It’s the most wonderful
Time of the year

They’re reckon it’s OK to ask
Everyone to wear a mask
Don’t want this one to be their last
Christmas (Whamageddon!)

So Little Sal and Baby Dan
Will have to santise their hands
And try hard not to hug their nan
Like biological weapons

Fingers crossed and wish them well
A Christmas with full sense of smell
Pleased as man with man to dwell
Let’s hope they all can get on

It’s Christmas with the Vulnerables
It’s the most wonderful
Time of the year

Blue Passport Fishing

Gunships, fish and chips
Protecting no-deal Brexits
But the fish don’t care
If you think they’re Brits
The fish don’t care
To be served with chips
See that little bastard swimming in the sea
That little bastard belongs to me
(He’s got a blue passport)
See that little bastard swimming in the sea
That little bastard belongs to me
(He’s got a blue passport)

Gunboats, keeping Spaffer afloat
Strong man nationalist
Someone get him
A Stone Island coat
It’s quote very very likely
Unquote
See that little bastard swimming in the sea
That little bastard belongs to me
(He’s got a blue passport)
See that little bastard swimming in the sea
That little bastard belongs to me
(He’s got a blue passport)

And the plucky little fisherman ain’t all he seems
There’s corporate interest behind the scenes
(And a blue passport)

Gunships, fish and chips
Protecting no-deal Brexits
But the fish don’t care
If you think they’re Brits
The fish don’t care
To be served with chips
See that little bastard swimming in the sea
That little bastard belongs to me
(He’s got a blue passport)
See that little bastard swimming in the sea
That little bastard belongs to me
(He’s got a blue passport)

And the plucky little fisherman ain’t all he seems
There’s corporate interest behind the scenes
Ask about the quotas, you’ll see what I mean
(And a blue passport)

Christmas Bubble Trouble


Jason and Joanna got Christmas bubble trouble
She wants to see her mum but then her sister’s bubble doubles
And her brother and his girlfriend make another bubble couple
She’s trying to understand the rules

Jason and Joanna got Christmas bubble trouble
He wants to see his dad but it’s gonna be a struggle
‘Cos her side’s already in a Christmas bubble muddle
He’s trying to understand the rules

(Which go like)

You can see her sister if you go round to her mother’s
But that’s already three so now you can’t see her brother
That would need a separate bubble but you can’t have another
What happens if we meet outside?

Jason and Joanna got Christmas bubble trouble
His mum and dad ain’t speaking so that’s something else to juggle
There’s too many pieces in their family Christmas puzzle
They’re trying to understand the rules

Jason and Joanna got Christmas bubble trouble
The tree ain’t even up before negotiations crumble
‘Cos “Are we splitting up for Christmas?” ain’t exactly subtle
When you’re trying to understand the rules

(Which go like)

Three bubbles can behave like they live in the same house
And pass the roast potatoes while passing on the sprouts
But unless they’re only children then there’s someone missing out
What happens if we eat outside?

Three bubbles can behave like they live in the same house
And pass the roast potatoes while passing on the sprouts
But unless they’re only children then there’s someone missing out
What happens if we eat outside?

Jason and Joanna got Christmas bubble trouble
The tree ain’t even up before negotiations crumble
‘Cos “Are we splitting up for Christmas?” ain’t exactly subtle
When you’re trying to understand the rules

They’re just trying to understand the rules

Reviewed by Folk London Magazine

It rattles along merrily and the punk spirit shines through. Singalong choruses are a given

Anja Beinroth, Folk London Magazine

To read the full review, get your copy here.

Reviewed by Fatea Magazine

Never less than thought-provoking, whilst also being highly entertaining, the band who to my mind can be seen as a musical equivalent of Coldwar Steve, indeed the group that can be relied upon to contribute to the soundtrack of the fight against inequality and a better, fairer world, not least because they have something eminently worthwhile to say, deserve a listen.

David Pratt, Fatea Magazine

Read the full review here.

Cummings, Cain and Princess Nut-Nut

Get out, he said, and never come back
Take your box out of the front door
No sneakin’ out the back
You might’ve got Brexit done
But now you’re getting’ the tin tack
There’s the road to Barnard Castle
I suggest you hit it, Jack

Now Spaffer’s back in self-isolation
With Carrie and Baby Wilf
She doesn’t need to text him ten times a day
Now she’s got him all to herself
He’s phoning in the bluff and bluster
From a comfy sofa in number 10
Arms-length prime ministering, no surprise
We’ve been there once, now we’re doing it again

Get out of here and never come back
Is what I hear he said to Lee Cain
But apparently money’s already changin’ hands
That it won’t be long ‘til he’s back again
Too close to Cummings, too close to home
Don’t say “Princess Nut-Nut” when you’re not alone
‘Cos it might not be such a laugh
When the boss de-blokes the backroom staff

Now Spaffer’s back in self-isolation
With Carrie and Baby Wilf
She doesn’t need to text him ten times a day
Now she’s got him all to herself
He’s phoning in the bluff and bluster
From a comfy sofa in number 10
Arms-length prime ministering, no surprise
They’ll just have to wheel Matt Hancock out again