I'm Goin' to Clacton

 I’m going to Clacton

Reform canvassed by the seaside

Baited there without a doubt

Yarmouth Skegness and Clacton

Where the skint folk all hangout

I’m goin’ to Clacton

Only the sea is brown

Yeah I’m going to Clacton

The “Little” people’s town

Well come on down to Clacton

Smoke drink and wreck your health

Go shake the hand of the big-talking man

Make a sucker of yourself

Yeah go to Clacton

The clown’s on the pier

Minority snowflake woke factions

Had best keep clear

Whetherspoons is a heaving

People all but stoop and bow

Hearing and eagerly believing

In The Moon and Starfish now

I’m goin’ to Clacton

But I’ll be floating no boat

‘Cause I’m going to Clacton

Where Farage won the vote

People will laugh at you in Clacton

If you told ‘em what was on your mind

But if they tax wealth less like the contract says

Profiteers will rob the blind

Yeah go to Clacton

You big talking man

With your banner of distraction

And EU pension plan

Well Reform canvassed by the seaside

Bated there without a doubt

More crime and poverty in Clacton

Ever since they voted out

I’m goin’ to Clacton

Is Nigel coming back

From giving Trump satisfaction

I wish he’d got the sack

Reform canvassed by the seaside

Baited there without a doubt

Yarmouth Skegness and Clacton

Where the skint folk all hangout

Five Years

Five Years

Conmen, gifting everywhere;

So many truckers sighing;

Queues miles long at Dover;

We’ve got profiteers power supplying;

Hard right’s taking over;

The left is clearly dying;

New guy says we’re Labour led,

But no one’s really buying;

I saw populists, elected by gullibility;

I heard an activists’ hate on TV;

His brain was like a warehouse, it had so much to spare,

He said, send troops to the beach and shoot every illegal there;

And all the trans and gay people;

And all the liberal people;

And all the jobless, poor people;

And all the foreign born people;

I never saw hate for so many people.

An underage kid, off his head,

Shot at Trump, from a building;

If God hadn’t have played a hand,

I think he would’ve killed him.

Old frog face flew across the pond,

For a friend, in need of a pat on the back;

I Hope Clacton-on-Sea’s people are pleased,

Cos I near threw up at the thought of that;

I think I saw you, by a Whetherspoons bar,

Throw a milk shake, cool and long,

Right in his face; he was looking so smug;

Don’t think he knew you were in the throng.

His Reform UK, and Trump’s MAGA’s gaining traction,

And the cause, for sure, is government inaction;

Not gays, not race, not gender, not woke;

It’s super-yachts, not rubber-boats

That’s left us all broke.

We’ve got five years, to roll up the blinds;

Five years, to win hearts and minds;

We’ve got five years, to take back the pot;

Five years, and fix all the rot;

We’ve got five years, to turn back the tide;

Five years, else get privatised;

We’ve got five years, to bring people round;

Five years; wealth don’t trickle down;

We’ve got five years, to reform the UK;

Five years, but not Nigel’s way;

We’ve got five years, to fund the state schools;

Five years, to supply the right tools;

We’ve got five; years for our NHS,

Five years; to be either best;

We’ve got five years; or missed when it’s gone;

Five years; it’s not very long.

Five years,

Five years,

Five years,

Five years.

The Rule of Law

Rule of Law

Grease the right palms then grease ‘em some more,

Prosecutors get kicked out the door,

The rule of law was broken; done for,

By lucrative liars in ’24.

Convicted felons appeal, and walk free,

Innocent children drown in the sea,

Short selling hedge-funders buy super-yachts,

Billionaires legally raid pension pots,

Morons misguided, throw missiles galore,

At shell-shocked-shelter-seekers, on the seashore,

The rule of law was broken; done for,

By lucrative liars in ’24.

Male-chauvinist pigs decry women’s rights,

(One’s got a president’s term in his sights),

Property magnates; MPs of late,

Write manifestos of prejudice, hate,

Puppets, under an autocrat’s strings,

Enthroned, become tyrannical Kings;

Corporates bleed the public-purse dry,

Foddered employees work till they die,

Private-insurance don’t cover the bill,

For workers, unskilled, and dangerously ill;

High GDP rates don’t profit the poor,

Whilst Machiavellians, from the top drawer,

Rule over wannabe lions that roar,

In the midst of a make-believe culture war;

The rule of law was broken; done for,

By lucrative liars in ’24.

Lettuces, backed-by-minority, betray,

Bankrupt their country, then walk away

With riches, received by way of reward,

For being the worst-ever boss on the board;

A found-guilty, criminal (best not use names,

Lest I get sued for unwarranted claims),

Fascist, with racist political views,

Started a riot, declared it, “Fake news”,

Paid off a porn star he couldn’t get rid,

And was let-off till after his POTUS bid;

Swerving a fine, and maybe, jail time,

(Such was the seriousness of his crime),

His only opponent, being confused,

Very forgetful and certain to lose,

The criminal’s set for a four year encore,

Convictions quashed and forgotten, for sure;

Grease the right palms and grease ‘em some more;

Populists prosper, however hard-core:

The rule of law was broken; done for,

By lucrative liars in ’24.

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