The Reformed Giant
UK politics
nigel
world piñata
seriously? world beating?
I’d settle for competent
not endless bleating
wet dream dominant
delusions of empire
red top optics
blighty barbed wire
nationalist neurotics
I’d rather a rep
for equality and justice
compassionate steps
so people could trust us
flagging
if I was a witch I’d totally flex
spit three times and fatally hex
this nightmare tory government
of dodgy winks and covenants
selling off anything not screwed down
to generate cash to pass around
an Eton mess of cushty mates
with offshore funds and big estates
who sing the anthem, kiss the flag
and twist it into a handy rag
to gag Britannia and bind her wrists
and give free reign to monopolists
fourteen years of special measures
parties in clowning street, wreckers in chequers
infrastructure down in the dirt
everyone hurting, nothing works
but keep your nerve, people, don’t lose hope
there’s magic in a pencil when you go to vote
an old rebellion folk song
sing a-hey ho the wind and the rain
the tories are history and spring comes again
we’ll win back our freedom, we’ll take back control
just call the election, let’s go to the polls
the country was ruined, the country was wracked
our rivers polluted, our railways off track
our schools and our hospitals riven with strife
britannia sold cheaply and put to the knife
your monument in granite
was profits not planet
the narrowest of self-serving worlds you inhabit
where there was discord
you brought alarm
the knacker’s van parked up on ol’ maggie’s farm
the daily mail bleating
the telegraph tweeting
the backroom oligarchs meeting n’greeting
but despite all the slogans
the deals and the bungs
you still couldn’t stop the change that would come
sing a-hey ho the wind and the rain
the tories are history and spring comes again
we’ll win back our freedom, we’ll take back control
just call the election, let’s go to the polls …
(exit, jangling bells, clacking staves, spinning round in circles &c…)
seven bins sunak speaks to the nation
so after careful consideration
I present to the nation
those policies no longer for implementation:
a tax on condiments, especially ketchup
the legal obligation to go to a costume party and dress up
like an astronaut, or alternatively, Fred Astaire
a tax on old bears
especially those in such a state of poor repair
their freakish and lopsided expressions frankly scare
a tax on stairs
or any stair-related products
a tax on terrible twins (aka Castor & Pollux)
a tax on molluscs
funding to fix the nation’s gut biome
funding to help kids build homes
for rabbits, hamsters or gerbils
extra taxation on vexatious and unreliastic commercials
particularly washing powder and cars
a tax on Mars bars
a tax on large jars
impossible to open without spilling
a tax on cheese grilling
or any late-night, snack-related activity
restrictions on the use of radioactivity
for home lighting
any obligation to watch WWF fighting
and groan
any obligation to pick up a banana and pretend it is a phone
no to pant laws
specifying how many old pairs you can keep in your drawers
without acknowledging the many and egregious holes in the gussets
and I’m sorry but we refuse any calls to discuss this
further
no tax on Werther’s
Originals
no tax on words with more than three syllables
no tax on invisibles
(such as ghosts)
and finally it’s a NO to a tax on toast
as you can see we are a serious government
utilising powers of great insight and judgement
guiding this country through choppy waters
(honestly, spads, it’s like lambs to the slaughter)
UK plc? It’s a wrap!
everything’s fractured
so here comes Thatcher
back from the dead in the Tory Rapture
handbag strokin’
hairdo smokin’
the shade’s not for turning, man – I’m not joking
the faithful falling at her feet
ten commandments on loud repeat
where there is discord flood the streets
with baton rounds & riot police
sing it
utilities – sell ‘em
protests – quell ‘em
if people wanna starve, go ahead let ‘em
get with the programme or go without
and if you don’t wanna look we can turn the lights out
we wanna attract ya
so let me despatch ya
a nice little contract to manufacture
some scratch for the itch
to make friends rich
drive the economy into a ditch
we make the rules
people are fools
we strip the hospitals, break the schools
close the libraries and the swimming pools
wring it
utilities – sell ‘em
protests – quell ‘em
if people wanna starve, go ahead let ‘em
get with the programme or go without
and if you don’t wanna look we can turn the lights out
like lambs to the slaughter
we poison the water
sacrifice the planet for a fiscal quarter
oil is best
greases the nest
funds the party so fuck the protest
but what the heck
it’s legal we checked
and anyway I say with the greatest respect
we can buy another planet we can go and infect
bring it
utilities – sell ‘em
protests – quell ‘em
if people wanna starve, go ahead let ‘em
get with the programme or go without
and if you don’t wanna look we can turn the lights out
we slash n’burn it
stamp the permit
save the cake and give you turnip
voters are hopeless
weak n’ boneless
make a fuss and we’ll make you homeless
so carpe diem
pay the PM
dogs of war? yeah? happy to free ‘em
we hold all the cards, man – shame you can’t see ‘em
sling it
utilities – sell ‘em
protests – quell ‘em
if people wanna starve, go ahead let ‘em
get with the programme or go without
and if you can’t bear to look we can turn the lights out
nadhim zahawi
(sung to the tune of Eleanor Rigby, with sincere apologies to Lennon & McCartney)
aah look at all the tory cronies
aah look at all the tory cronies
nadhim zahawi
picks up his tax with a lurch when the audit has been
big income streams
waits at the window
wearing the smile that he keeps in a jar by the door
for TV and more
all the tory cronies
where do they all come from
all the belusconis
where do they all belong
rich rishi sunak
practising gestures for questions that no one will hear
no one comes near
look at him working
wearing his sliders inside when there’s nobody there
selling his shares
all the tory cronies
where do they all come from
all the belusconis
where do they all belong
nadhim zahawi
lied to the house and was feted for playing the game
no sense of shame
rich rishi sunak
wiping the sleaze from his hands as he walks from the box
dreaming of stocks
all the tory cronies
where do they all come from
all the belusconis
where do they all belong
it’s all just [insert words here]
billionaires basking in gated squares / feeding fortunes, shuffling shares / phoning lawyers, tending heirs / tipping off Tories at Sunday prayers / kicking their servants down the stairs
taking cake with marie antoinette / who laughs and says she often forgets / exactly who’s who in the oubliettes
Captain James T. Musk saying wassup / boldly going and pricing it up / Doctor Zuckerberg’s sorry to interrupt / but the environmentalists are screaming earth destruct / do we blast their asses or beam them up
a deal, a drag, a tag, a tussle / off to the gym for a flex of muscle / iso drinks and the kiss of a knuckle / snap of a towel and a cheery-ass chuckle / feeling okay but your legs start to buckle
dogs of the world, unite / you’ve nothing to lose but your collars, alright? / or have you forgotten how to bite
the screams of the audience, the roar of the clown / that memorable night the top burned down
travelling, unravelling / grovelling, gravelling / border guards frowns and judges’ gavelling
deficit, surplus, transfer payments / dog eat dog and other defrayments
a jellyfish queuing at the city aquarium / likes the displays cos they often vary ‘em
CAPITALISM’S BAD FOR YOU? THAT’S what your message is? / There needs no ghost, come from the grave, To tell me this.
jim clayton 