I don’t want to sound mean or bitter Come across like I’m holding a grudge But those things are all true So if I sound like I do Please forgive me, and try not to judge
To the teachers at Denbigh who taught me And threw up their arms in despair Some things would be best Were they off of my chest So bear with me, and pull up a chair
I’ve spent most of my life, taking all of the blame On young shoulders, now burdened with age But I’m scratching my head That maybe I’m misled That my guilt could perhaps be assuaged
I know I was not a good pupil And I’m sure I made your lives quite hard A difficult child Would be putting it mild So I doubt I was the only one scarred
Why can’t you be more like your sister She never caused us this grief And I couldn’t explain Which I found quite a shame As I’d have probably felt some relief
But I was just a fucked up little boy And you were the one’s so mature For years you’d been trained So I’d like to complain ‘Bout the beatings I had to endure
Agreed – I made stupid decisions And that can’t have been easy to fix But I’d have to oppose The response that you chose To repeatedly hit me with sticks
Hit me with slippers, trainers and canes Again and again and again. And then hit me some more And then hit me some more Expecting good things from the pain
I’m supposed to give you some leeway That we lived then in different times That I should let go As you just didn’t know And that I should leave all this behind
‘Never did me any harm’ is the line That you hear with defiance and a twitch Well it may not be yew tree But those bastards hit me Abuse or assault, not sure which.
‘Just act your age’ was the cry that I heard In between those so regular shoe-ings Which turned out to be tough Ironically enough As it turns out that’s what I was doing
If you ever delve into the science Staged development of parts of the brain The prefrontal cortex And it’s calming effects Makes my beatings seem quite inhumane
The part of the brain that says ‘let’s not do that’ Doesn’t work ‘right’ till you’re out of your teens I couldn’t explain Why I’d screwed up again So to beat me seems a trifle obscene
Perhaps I was beyond any hope or redemption That no motivation could have ever assisted Or then and again Something other than pain Might have helped had you only persisted
I don’t understand how your mindset Decided that that was the route ‘Just hit him some more His performance will soar’ Your persistence at least I’d salute
Hope against hope to be sent to the head Each time a beating was due At least when he caned He seemed genuinely pained But the one who enjoyed it was you
Dunlop green flash – size eleven I can see it and feel it today Me bent over in front You sadistic cunt As you gleefully swung it away
Used to inflict as much pain as you could They’d never been worn – didn’t fit I knew at the time That you wore a size nine The elevens were bought specially – you shit.
While the welts and the weals faded slowly away The shame and embarrassment remained I just calmly observed It was what I deserved And that learning just wasn’t my game
Oddly enough, your motivation techniques Didn’t transform my approach to my lessons Felt I was no good Left as soon as I could And the impact it had never lessened
I’ve always been pretty successful in work Positions of power – responsible roles Never been unemployed Had a career I’ve enjoyed Fulfilled many professional goals.
I’d always thought I was quite clever That I just couldn’t do it their way But as I got older That chip on my shoulder Started gnawing and gnawing away
So I started to study, in my thirties, part time And oddly enough, it was tough But quite amazingly I got me a degree Leaving me feeling stupidly chuffed
So could I possibly go one stage farther? Could I build even more in my plans? Last weekend in Ely Will live with me dearly As I walked cross the stage and shook hands
So all that is left is for me to just hope that You’re ashamed – you sadistic bastards No thanks to you With your canes and tennis shoes Now I’ve gone and got me a masters.
Unless it’s a weekend When they take place at four For reasons I can’t quite fathom But I’m prepared to ignore
Standing three astride A podium a piece The politician ‘tween the scientists To announce the deceased
Worst Kraftwerk Tribute Ever
‘We’ve carried out x many thousands of tests’ As if that were meaningful data But tests done is dictated by test kits we had So that won’t help us manage this later
I’m willing them on, hoping beyond hope That they’ll rise and step up to the plate But each day they manage to fail once again Increasing my concern for our fate
Johnson, Hancock and Gove taking turns All looking like scared little boys Desperate to get to the end of their slot Lest their cover gets blown midst the noise
Rushing to end each briefing Survival the only goal Getting through it the only measure of success Then retreating away from the proles
Every successfully evaded point That you see as some mark of success Erodes even further our weak trust in you Which serves to exacerbate this mess
Will you apologise minister? To the people who stand in harms way Without the protection that should keep them safe But who stand unprotected today
On day one you couldn’t be held responsible But the first time you stood ‘fore the nation And said it had all been sorted. Then it’s on you now, whatever the duration.
You didn’t answer that way because it was true You answered that way to deflect blame That’s the game you usually play But this is no longer a game
People want to trust you – they need to They need to know that you’ve got this But day by day, trust is slipping away And you’re stepping ever closer to the abyss
When you lie, People die. And they die in your name When your policies are tailored to protect your lies, more people die Because this is no longer a game
Unable to admit to the problems we face Else the lies will soon start to unwind But they’re really beginning to look rather thin And we know what we’re likely to find
People don’t have the PPE – What are you doing? Today alone we’ve shipped fifty million A meaningless answer to a different question That diminishes you in the eyes of every civilian
Hancock said PPE was sorted again and again To make all the questioning stop But you cannot deny now that each time, he lied And he should be next in line for the drop
You stand up and boast that there’s still spare capacity But frankly I’m appalled that you have the audacity As daily we read of the care homes in tragedy People denied hospital, evidence of your mendacity
In any other environment, this would be gaslighting People come to you with serious questions and concerns You dismiss them and explain that it’s no longer a problem And they shouldn’t believe what they’ve learned.
Our journalists asking multiple questions Each and every time it’s their turn Which allows the answers to be evaded And I’m praying to god they soon learn.
There, for our delectation Each and every day Are the failings in our democracy And the games that our politicians and media play
Here’s a question I’d like you to ask And I’d like you to ask it right now Why are you not sharing deaths in the community As soon as the data allows?
The scientists debasing themselves everyday To bring credibility to the politicians While the politicians are delighted in every way To be able to share their inquisition
These experts have clearly been trained To play your little media game Media training? Discussion framing? Not answering questions’ their aim
It’s like the worst bits of the apprentice Which is all of the apprentice by the way The lack of sincerity in their voices Would be laughable were there not such a price to pay
Did they miss the ‘faking sincerity’ Module of their media training? When Gove and Patel speak I can feel my trust further draining
We’ve no idea how many have this thing now Nor how many have had it before We simply don’t have the information we need And no plan for how we get more
I’m scared because it doesn’t seem true that Decisions are being based on what’s best For the nation or our NHS But on what supports the lies already told throughout this unrest
Take it on the chin – let it move through us all Which absenting vaccine or treatment regime Is where we might end up But for that to be your first option is frankly obscene
We need herd immunity – Sage advice indeed But that can’t be a policy aim As we don’t even know if immunity is guaranteed So we’d lose hundreds of thousands in vain.
This nation led its government In this time of disaster When the nation deserves to be led By a qualified master
Where we should have been closing down And people confined to their digs Instead we had the Cheltenham festival And Stereophonics gigs
We can’t take action yet Not enough of you are dying We have to fill the hospitals Before we actually start trying
Our breakout came later which meant that Our action should have come quicker But we waited and waited and dithered with guidance And sadly now people are sicker
Ten thousand dead? But that isn’t all The ONS stats suggest double The fact that they’re not sharing community deaths Suggests that we’re in for more trouble
Test, test and test again Is the WHO advice Test, isolate and trace contacts But we’ve decided to roll our own dice
So it turns out that when it comes to the crunch And the need for strong leadership is clear That there’ll be vagueness, weak advice and a lack of clear rules Which is literally killing us here
Stay two metres apart Say the three wise men or women true Who are not standing Two metres apart Do as we say. Not as we do.
I’m really struggling to believe that Under a right wing Tory prime minister I’m wishing for him to be more draconian In the rules he needs to administer
To see how the world is responding to this And then plough your own furrow could be brave But if it’s based on nothing more than covering your own backs You’ll be sending thousands more to their graves
The financial assistance that’s been offered sounded great But under scrutiny looks decidedly less so And millions quickly lost jobs and will suffer As companies preferred to sack than furlough
Loans might help in some cases But it relies on companies putting their future profits Ahead of their employees present So beware of false prophets
Millionaire bosses throwing staff to the wolves And cocking a snook to protestors Then taking the money the government gives And handing it straight to Investors
How worrying it is to realise That personal circumstance leaves you prone Newly self-employed? Well I’m sorry to say That there’s no help for you, you’re on your own.
I’m lucky – I know that I’ll be alright But there’s millions not as lucky as I And the government just says ‘sorry – you don’t fit our model’ Compassionate conservatism? It’s hard to deny.
All of the assumptions that underlie Our economic model laid bare And found to be lacking when push comes to shove As there’s really not much substance there
How can they do it? We hear people cry When the toilet roll hoarders arrive Yet the hoarding of money is seen as a virtue While others find it hard to survive
There are Millions now in genuine need But the distribution of resources is so screwed And help from those who have millions doesn’t seem to be guaranteed Hoarders they are, just of money not food
It won’t stop me shaking hands Johnson proclaims with a smile Just as Trump stares directly at a solar eclipse How ridiculous, contemptible and juvenile
What you say really matters, you appalling man People’s behaviour will be led by your words So this blustering fool that you choose to portray Is dangerous, obscene and absurd
A lying newspaper columnist in charge Seasoned at playing the buffoon So out of his depth as he blusters around Believing himself to be immune
So little trust in our minister prime Who’s lied his way right to the pinnacle That if he’d faked his positive test Nobody would be surprised, we’re that cynical
Years of demonising experts and truth Are suddenly shown in high contrast With the urgent requirement for people to trust And respond for as long as this lasts
Rejecting EU help, as our doctors and nurses die On the altar of your brexit myth But the lack of plan b seems to suggest to me That you should step aside now – Forthwith
People are dying and dying alone And that will live with us for generations to come Your lies are enabling this shame to persist And for many more people to succumb
Illness or not You Bullingdon chancer You cannot escape this You have questions to answer
So we’re digging mass graves here in England And there’s no sign it’s stopping just yet So please let’s support our key workers And remember we’re all in their debt
But the maddening saddening tragical truth And the thing which should fill you with shame Is that you’re too busy lying and spinning to see That it’s sadly no longer a game
