A paranoid prat with a past,
Has a lifelong obsession with class;
Finds his campaign momentum
In fuelling resentment,
In spheres were he thinks it is sparse.
And so sparse is the class in his mob,
That whatever he does they will tell him “good job”.
He could eat his own cat
And they’d say it deserved that,
See: JC is bigger than god. 🥀
Eat, breathe, sleep
walking; talking Life into war
as a Way. Embattled in our bafflements,
some have dug trenches so deep,
all they can see are their own banks.
But, one day, we will want the lying
to stop: to ourselves; to each
other. Sick and exhausted with
manipulation and deceit, we will
yearn for truth and we shall seek it.
Nigel Farage is back with his bus
He’s going to battle for – wait for it… us
The fair weather fascist
Will tour with the classics
Like many an old has-been does.
Get ready for:
I’m an outsider
The global elite
Mine’s a pint
Man on the street
Foreign language on trains
Live next-door to Romanians
Break up the EU
Do you love your country?
Bloody red tape
Where’s my fish?
I blame Remainers
Why can’t my German passport be blue?
We’ve UKIPped the Tories
I need a retainer
Bannon’s very invested
Hope and Glory
Trump likes my story
His favourite little number, Isn’t it int’resting..?
And many more.
If, every time you feel a threat
To Comrade Corbyn’s saintly rep
And rush to get your gaslight out,
Revise, reduce and whatabout,
Recall Iago was exposed,
As Janus Jezza grows each nose.
Beware: the sight that you pervert
Is yours and, since the grail you serve
Is false, the sham is all your fault,
Not being present but involved.
If, every time you feel the threat
Of losing Brexit, you deflect
And rush to get your Johnson out
And flash and poke it all about,
Remember Bobbitt’s sad demise,
As throbbing gobbet swings and jives;
Beware the high of your supply
On which vainglory you rely,
For you, ignoble kin, so keen,
Are fluffers for a libertine.
Why would you hide your face from your creator
But for fear or shame?
And in whose name,
The words that sit upon the lips
Of those who claim to know?
When you find yourself contracting
Just before you give reaction
Coz you know you could explode
If your impulses overrode
With a mind to consequences
Of the various offences
Taken very liberally
By self-appointment to authority
You buy a moment of delay
To measure what you want to say
Against the likely repercussions
Of alerting certain Russians
Trying not to give your foes
Another angle to transpose
Making sure you don’t inflate
Their fear and anger and their hate
But if the fury that you feel
Is losing none of its appeal
And your scorn is justified
Release and know, at least, you tried
You’re only human, after all
And even saints hit Patience’s wall
It’s also more than they would do
Had the stupid obstacle been you