All my working life I have responded to current events in verse, and never was there more a time to do so than now.
The first of these poems was written after a long conversation with my mate Ronnie Chambers from Blackhall Colliery near Hartlepool in the North East, like so many others an area devastated by Thatcherism and then neglected by successive governments, where Ukip is making headway. I hope it strikes a chord all over Britain.
In the others, I laugh in the face of evil. If the state visit goes ahead, I’ll see you on the march!
TAKE BACK CONTROL
You tell me how you’ve suffered since the closure. I see the pain and sadness in your eyes. I feel your anger at our country’s leaders Who offer only platitudes and lies. At gigs I hear so many of these stories. All different, but the message is the same. You’re sick to death of scheming politicians. No longer going to play their poxy game.
The referendum was your chance. You took it. They told you we’d be taking back control. Control of jobs and factories and borders: A revolution wrapped up in a poll. The EU is a ghastly corporate bully. Cheap labour and big profits at its core. I understand why you voted for Brexit: One chance to strike a blow in the class war.
But it wasn’t the EU who shut your pit down And sent Met thugs rampaging through your street. They didn’t close your hospitals and workshops Smash down your union to brave defeat. No EU diktat caused the housing crisis The poll tax, bedroom tax or zero hours. No, all of these were brought in by the Tories — And soon those bastards will have brand new powers.
So let’s take back control with strong trade unions And let’s take back control and organise Take back control of pub and school and workplace And counter all the endless media lies. Take back control as we all stand together No scapegoating and no divide and rule. The future is unwritten, and it’s daunting. Please don’t let UKIP take you for a fool.
A TALE OF THREE BUSHES
Thatcher met Bush senior. Blair met Bush no-hoper. But May has drawn the short straw. She just met Bush groper.
A MAN OF HIS WORD
As the last Trump exploded from the febrile rectum of the loathsome demagogue enveloping all before him in a stinking fog of bigotry and hatred he turned to the cameras and spoke. ‘My fellow Americans: During my election campaign I made you some promises. I am following through on those promises. Here are three of them. I promised to build a wall. To ban Muslims. To end free healthcare. I am keeping those promises. I repeat: I am following through. All over America.’
THERESA THE APPEASER
Theresa The Appeaser Met the lady garden squeezer Her brain was in the freezer She treated him like Caesar He’s a really nasty geezer So tell Queen Liz, if he sees her, “Grab his knob with a tweezer And revoke his sodding visa!”