The Bad Guys Are Winning

You can be a bad guy
And just redact your sins
Or find a new god
Who says that bad guys win

Like Little Tommy
In Trafalgar square
Preaching Hey Jesus
Hey look over there

Tommy singing carols
Saying Jesus is born
To a bunch of far-right racists
Sharing kiddie porn

Like Nigel Farage
His Judaeo-Christian values
What he means is anti-Islam
Those are his rules

The bad guys are winning
Make no mistake
The bad guys are winning
Bad guys on the take

Oh woe is me G Beebees
They’re cancelling Christmas
Like it’s only for white folk
It deliberately missed us

The bad guys are winning
It’s hard to deny it
Even Russell the rapist
Says that God made him try it

The bad guys are winning
Here’s the incoming stitch
They say that God don’t say
That you should tax the rich

Thou shalt not tax the rich
Man shalt not lie with man
Thou shalt not scratch that itch
Or worship Islam

The bad guys are winning
Claiming God on their side
But there ain’t no heaven
For their racist pride

Project 2025
Is only the beginning
Donald’s on the case
The bad guys are winning

Go for the trans folk
And rights for women
It’s a simple formula
The bad guys are winning

Gold leaf in the White House
No votes for women
Everything is binary
The bad guys are winning

Just wait for Donny
His bible and his smile and
Saying he found Jesus
On Epstein’s island

The bad guys are wining
Make no mistake
The bad guys are winning
Bad guys on the take

The bad guys are winning
Claiming God on their side
But there ain’t no heaven
For their racist pride

Nazi Steve Bannon says
Tell them it’s God’s will
Make them scared of immigrants
March up the culture hill

The identity playbook
Don’t need a bible
It knows what it’s opposed
Jesus sue ‘em for libel

Jesus the refugee
From Nazareth in Palestine
Jesus with a cool trick
Turning water into wine

Jesus the refugee
Who gave to the poor
Jesus would say what the fuck
Is nationalism even for

The bad guys are wining
Make no mistake
The bad guys are winning
Bad guys on the take

The bad guys are winning
Claiming God on their side
But there ain’t no heaven
For their racist pride

The bad guys are winning
The bad guys are wrong
If you wanna stop them winning
Just keep singing this song

Don’t let the bad guys win…

Oh Tommy. F**k Off! – Live at Steve’s House

In Eleanor’s vineyard, Tommy’s on his knees, pretending to pray
He holds his bible upside down and wonders what Charlie would say
His god washed Islamophobic endeavour gains new followers every day
But he’s a coked up criminal grifter who’s going away

And they sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest

You can’t write everybody off, some folk are just taken in
The difference between influenced and influencers is written on the tin
But when the fascists are at the door be sure to not let them in
And he’s a coked up criminal grifter who should be in the bin

And they sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest

Now Jesus of Nazareth was many things
But nationalism won’t win you your angel wings
Your patriotic cross is just so much toss
So you can Oh Tommy Tommy off

When they sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’
Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest

Put The Christ Back Into Christmas

Put the Christ back into Christmas
The Islam back into Islamophobia
The bigot back into bigotry
The my back into myopia

Put the St. George back into the cross
Put the hat back into Santa
Put the race back into racism
Put the coke back into Fanta

Put the him back into hymns
Put the nation back into nationalism
Put the Christ back into Christmas
Put the Robinson back into prison

The Cesspit

Another day another wade in the cesspit
Another day another swim in you guessed it
Another day another wade in the cesspit
Another day in the shit

(Log on)

Embery says there’s too many blacks on TV
Pochin Reform MP says I agree
Little Tommy Tel Aviv Telegrams in
Benny’s Luton teddy with the cocaine grin

Luton, Durham, Epping, Stoke
Things go better with Nigel’s coke
Need a toke to supercharge your anti-woke
Things go better with Nigel’s coke

Another day another wade in the cesspit
Another day another swim in you guessed it
Another day another wade in the cesspit
Another day in the shit

Race is where the money wants you to go
Race is where they say the blame is—oh
Race is where the money wants you to go
The money made the racism don’t you know

‘Cos you don’t go to war with your equals
You go to war with the not-like-you
You don’t go to war with your equals
That’s why they’re feeding you on Elon’s stew

(Elon’s racist stew—fuck you)

Another day another wade in the cesspit
Another day another swim in you guessed it
Another day another wade in the cesspit
Another day in the shit

In Epping Adam says that paedos make him ill
Only the ones with brown faces still
Not the hundreds of white ones up the hill
Adam doesn’t care he’s a billionaire’s shill

Adam’s got a TV slot he needs to fill
Adam’s got a mission that he needs to fulfil
Adam doesn’t care he’s a billionaire’s shill
Adam’s making bitcoin off the red pill

Another day another wade in the cesspit
Another day another swim in you guessed it
Another day another wade in the cesspit
Another day in the shit

Flags or community you choose
A seat on the bus or Great Replacement News
You can be a racist or you can refuse
A swim in the cesspit
A wade in you guessed it
Another day in the shit

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.

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

Walthamstow Wide Awake

What ya gonna do when Little Tommy comes to town
Stand your ground
They shall not pass

What ya gonna do second time around
Stand your ground
And hold fast

What ya gonna do
When Nigel calls a riot
He’s only askin’ questions
And you ain’t keeping quiet
When the fascists come to town
Stand your ground and hold fast
They shall not pass

From 1914 to Bell Corner
To Hoe Street in the calm summer sun
Walthamstow wide awake
Walthamstow awake and watch ‘em run

What you gonna do while Little Tommy is away
Raise a glass
And have a laugh

What you gonna do while Little Tommy is away
Stay awake
And hold fast

Don’t be a stay at home Stella
Don’t give yourself a dilemma
When the fascists come to town
The streets are where you should be found,
So hold fast, they shall not pass

From 1914 to Bell Corner
To Hoe Street in the calm summer sun
Walthamstow wide awake
Walthamstow awake and watch ‘em run

Doing Time For Nigel

Derek Drummond, 58
Punched a copper in the face
Stole some bricks and threw them straight
He’s doing time for Nigel

Declan Geiran joined the fight
Tried to set a van alight
Admitted arson, as you might
He’s doing time for Nigel

John O’Malley, 43
Helped destroy the library
Now he’s under lock and key
He’s doing time for Nigel

William Morgan, 69
Brought a cosh with crime in mind
His next few years are well defined
He’s doing time for Nigel

England ‘til I die, they cried
With Little Tommy as their guide
Now they’ve got a bit inside
They’re doing time for Nigel

Untitled (26 July 2024)

Kicked in the head by airport cops
While Dujardin flogs her horse
For sections of the listenership
The horse was worse of course
Now she’s not going to the Olympics
But the child rapist is
What jobs should rapists be allowed
Is Thursday’s phone-in quiz
On Leading Britain’s Conversation
The hang and flog ‘em crowd
Who never stop to ask
Why Tommy Robinson’s allowed
Which leaves it up to us
To never let the haters win
Leading Britain’s Racists
Back to the fuckin’ bin
Tapping their fascist toes
To Louise Distras, I suppose
A far cry from The Factory Floor
And The Hand You Hold
I suspect this ain’t the album
That many folk were sold
Don’t give up hope
Beryl would remind us
It remains a slippery slope