Tag: writing

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

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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

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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

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Mass Deportation Masturbation

Frog-faced fascist Farage
The tinpot TikTok wannabe dictator
Squawks deport ‘em all, let God sort ‘em out
Dreams of riots, five quid flags
And mini roundabouts
Dreams of Trump-ish sanctions
And Taliban transactions

It’s mass deportation masturbation
For a nation that’s been
Squeezed, plucked
Furloughed, fucked
Despairing for an answer
But stranded with a chancer
In stockbroker tweed
When what they need
Is far less greed
From those that have it all already
Such as him

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Bring Back The Dancing Coppers

Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street
Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back giving a fuck about each other
Bring back understanding
Whose wealth is expanding

Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street

Paul lives in a country
With no parliament or king
His flag has no status
Except with racists and their kin
Paul lives in a country
Where even the roundabouts are white
His crusade’s embarrassing
And not a pretty sight

Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street

You can join Reform UK
But don’t get excited
The party’s for the very rich
And you ain’t invited
Reform FC is not a team
You want to bet your life on
Nigel’s not the football type
His word can’t be relied on

Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street

Bring back the experts
Bring back the truth
Facts don’t have another side
For anyone to choose
Bring back the right questions
Bin the clickbait and the quotes
None of your problems
Arrived here on small boats

Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street

If you fly the flag to intimidate
If you sneak it up at night
If you fly it to say you’re not welcome here
If you fly it out of spite
Then you don’t fly the flag for me
You don’t fly the flag for this country
You fly it for the fascists
And we will tear it down

Bring back the dancing coppers
Bring back community
Bring back using lampposts
Just the light the street

If you fly the flag to intimidate
If you sneak it up at night
If you fly it to say you’re not welcome here
If you fly it out of spite
Then you don’t fly the flag for me
You don’t fly the flag for this country
You fly it for the fascists
And we will tear it down

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Operation Raise The Colours

Made in China from the finest polyester
Bought in bulk from that Bezos bloke
No official status in the state apparatus
It says I’m English mate, it says I’m not woke

It says I’m proud that there used to be a library here
Named after some statue or other
I’m proud of the flats that I will never afford
And the bedroom that I share with my brother

I’m proud of Jimmy Dyson, the entrepreneur
Shame his hoovers ain’t made round here no more
And I’m proud of Jerry Clarkson and his comedy farm
His avoiding tax ain’t doing me no harm

Proud of the mums of Epping draped in flags
With sons in the party and mates on tags
The GB News-er who runs his own boozer
And the RefUK councillor who’s a sex abuser

It says I’m proud of our culture, proud to be default
Proud of Nigel’s millions and the fine wine in his vault
Proud of the riots after the Southport attack
I’m proud we fought the fascists and I’m proud they’re coming back

Made in China from the finest polyester
Twelve quid on eBay for two
Not intended to intimidate, oh wait
Coming to a lamppost near you

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Breaking Britain

They’re hanging flags on the lampposts of Breaking Britain
They’re painting the roundabouts red
The concerned mums of Epping are lighting fires
While Bobby’s on the beach winding up their suppliers
They’re kicking the refugees out of The Bell
Next thing they’ll wanna kick you out as well
They’re breaking Britain
They’re breaking Britain

A oner gets you Farage on a football shirt
But the flag is flying upside down
Nicky did a Trump dance and a fascist salute
He’s off to Liverpool in a too small suit
Anti-immigrant poison is what they sell
Next thing they’ll wanna poison you as well
They’re breaking Britain
They’re breaking Britain

They’re breaking Britain with division
They’re breaking Britain with derision
They’re breaking Britain with hate for a scapegoat mate
And making a pretty penny while they’re at it too
They’re breaking Britain
They’re breaking Britain

While Both Sides Sheila argues both sides
Not all nazis are nazis she opines
Not sure I’d want asylum seekers down my street
She’s down with the othering of not like me
And the high street is some lawless kind of hell
Next thing the law will come for you as well
They’re breaking Britain
They’re breaking Britain

Kier looking on without a clue, he’s breaking Britain
Rachel in the wings without a penny for you, she’s breaking Britain
Kemi trying to be the baddest of the bad, she’s breaking Britain
Nigel the worst MP Clacton ever had, he’s breaking Britain
He’s breaking Britain

They’re breaking Britain with division
They’re breaking Britain with derision
They’re breaking Britain with hate for a scapegoat mate
And making a pretty penny while they’re at it too
They’re breaking Britain
They’re breaking Britain
They’re breaking Britain
They’re breaking Britain

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We All Deserve A Chance

I was chattin’ to a bloke at the bar
Of The New Austerity Inn
He said, I’m not a racist but
I guess that he was six pints in
He said, how bad could it be
When they’re all the bloody same
Politics to them
Is just a bloody game

And I’m not playin’
I’m just sayin’
That Nigel deserves a chance

He finished up his pint and said
Let’s have another round
It used to be alright in here
But this lot are just clowns
And I’m just bloody sick
Of all this bloody woke
A bad pint and a cigarette
That they won’t let me smoke

So I’m not playin’
I’m just sayin’
That Nigel deserves a chance

(I thought for a minute….)

Give Nigel a chance, I said
I hear what you’re sayin’
Something’s got to change
But Nigel ain’t a price worth payin’
‘Cause the pub will open longer
But the staff just won’t get paid
And the punters will be skinter
So there’ll be even less trade
And the beer will be just as stale
And probably even worse
‘Cause he prefers his wine to ale
The pub banter’s rehearsed
And the NHS will not be free
You’ll buy it from his mates
And he’ll still blame the migrants
While it’s billionares that take

So, I’m not playin’
I’m just sayin’
We all deserve a chance

To stick together
To understand
What we have in common
With our fellow man
We’ll nationalise the billionaires
We’ll confiscate their yachts
100% inheritance tax
And we’ll all share all the lot

Yeah, I’m not playin’
I’m just sayin’
We all deserve a chance

(And you wanna know how I got on…)

I was chattin’ to a bloke at the bar
Of The New Austerity Inn
He said, I guess I hear you
But the common man can’t win
When politics to them
Is just a bloody game
I said if we spit together
We can drown them all the same

And I’m not playin’
I’m just sayin’
That we all deserve a chance

Let’s stick together
Let’s spit together
‘Cause we all deserve a chance

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“…it’s an absolute tour de force.” Attila The Stockbroker reviews Evidence-Based Punk Rock

I got a new one [CD player] to listen to Evidence Based Punk Rock, the new Steve White & the Protest Family album, and it is worth the money on its own: it’s an absolute tour de force. They’re another great example of genre-fluidity — think Chas n Dave meets the Tom Robinson Band with a magnificently militant Ian Duryish manic street preacher on lead vocals. Hearty singalongs interspersed with Steve’s sharp, witty performance poetry: an incredibly incisive, thoroughly enjoyable CD which sums up our battered country in 2025 to a T. Definitely my album of the year so far.

Read Attila’s full review in the Morning Star.

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