Tag: writing

Donald’s In Town

trump queen

It was a week for all tastes and pockets,[1]: Trump’s state visit, the second phase of Theresa May’s resignation (announce a date, stay on as caretaker, actually go), Elvis Costello accepting an OBE and blaming his mum; I couldn’t really let it pass without comment. With a nod to one of the characters in The Brexit Trilogy[2], here it is: Donald’s In Town.

It was her birthday
The kids made a card
With folded paper
And fading felt tips
No gifts
No money for gifts
No gifts
No money for gifts

It was demo day
Lots of paint and card
Hoping to go viral
For the Insta crowd
Home made
Witty placard parade
Home made
Witty placard parade

And Theresa sobbed
When she left the job
But it never really made the news
‘Cos Donald’s in town

He was too early
For her birthday
Didn’t bring a card
It’s all about him
This trip
A massive ego trip
This trip (‘s)
A massive ego trip

(It’s got)
Dinner with a duchess
Supper with a princess
Downing Street too
21-gun salute
All missed
21 guns all missed
All missed
21 guns all missed

And Theresa sobbed
When she left the job
But it never really made the news
‘Cos Donald’s in town

On her birthday
Elvis took his place
In the Empire’s order
Tramp the dirt down
In a crown
How do you tramp the dirt down?
In a crown
You can’t tramp the dirt down

(Well)
She smiled at the kids’ card
Laughed at the placard
Mocking the blowhard
Funny as milkshakes
Milkshakes
Running down Tommy’s face
Milkshakes
Running down Tommy’s face
(Save your outrage)

And Theresa sobbed
When she left the job
But it never really made the news
‘Cos Donald’s in town

Steve

[1] Hat-tip: Joe Durston
[2] Doesn’t mean I won’t write more about them

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Johnson for PM, God Fuckin’ Help Us

Theresa May’s Brexit deal is dead in the water of her crocodile tears. A fresh Tory leader with the charisma to succeed in Brussels where she has failed seems unlikely; no-deal versus no-Brexit is now the pundit’s favoured battleground, with or without a second referendum.

Dying with May’s career is my Brexit Prayer, performed once at the Fish & Bicycle Club, but there’s renewed interest in former London mayor and foreign secretary Johnson, as the wholly unrepresentative rump that is the Conservative Party membership elects a new prime minister.

Does Johnson have what it takes to make the deal that May failed to, or does Brussels see him for the loathsome charlatan[1] that he is? Speculation at Protest Towers is that the job’s going to an outlier with Johnson waiting to pick up the post-exit pieces once the dust has settled.

In any event, we know a song (or two) about him.

Steve

 

  1. Hat tip to Jonathan Freedland, writing in the Guardian.
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Furry Little Fuckers

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Chicken Squawk pricked my conscience but not enough to make me change. My quiet admiration for vegan friends didn’t push me over the edge. The road to “ethical” meat-eating had been taken via organic and healthy, but the route abandoned on financial grounds. In the end it was a dog, and I stopped looking the other way.

He really loves you, but he’s just a dog
His love is real, as real as analogue
But the pigs share complex emotional responses too
And the cows to do much more than just go “moo”
So before your conscience recovers
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fuckers

Her name’s Daisy and she’s a sheep
The lucky one the farmer decided to keep
Bringing joy to the kids visiting the petting zoo
Who don’t associate her with being food
So before you think about her sisters and her brothers
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fuckers

Or you could tread a little lighter through this world

Her name’s Frankie, his name is Smudge
Grateful for the culture, the home, the love
But the goats and chickens ain’t got that kind of luck
They’re food not friends, their short lives kinda suck
So before your dinner ups and does a runner
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fucker

He likes pork chops and a steak or two
Maccy D’s and KFC too
Shrink-wrapped, pre-packed, juicy, meaty, fleshy food
Doesn’t think about a time when it had hooves
So before he starts to think about his suppers
Let’s kill and eat the furry little fuckers

Or you could tread a little lighter through this world

Furry

Steve

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