Phonies dish out gongs to cronies
Chopping up charlie in the lavatories
Tories top the list of tellers of tall stories
Grouse roam the moors where they felled all the trees

Leaking memos to the press when convenient
Wheeling out the likes of Jeremy Hunt
Faking a negotiation with the Europeans
Spewing out statistics, pledging mega billions

The same old script, copyright (Sir) Lynton Crosby
He could guarantee a white Christmas, probably
Cameron deserves an Oscar from Hollywood
For pretending to run the UK. He never could


You can’t see the bombs on Santa’s tracker
Dropping from blue skies, Christmas crackers
A distant land, where shepherds watch their flocks
Exposed to a storm, no shelter from the aftershock

Wise men send expensive gifts, surprises that are lethal
A glittering display, lighting up the night, an awesome spectacle
Steel angels sweep across eastern lands delivering a greeting
May your Christmas be merry, if your hearts are still beating

Droplets of Verse: ‘Banned From Disneyland’

I’m not a Muslim
And I don’t sing neoliberal hymns
If I was banned
From the delights of Disneyland
It wouldn’t bother me
But that’s not the dilemma
In a land that values liberty
There’s a new agenda

I’m not an American
And I’m Mickey Mouse with a gun
I terrorise my neighbourhood
With poetry and bad puns
Quacking like Donald Duck
World powers show their paranoia
World peace is truly stuck
Leaders hire more lawyers

Droplets of Verse: ‘Somewhere Over The Post Apocalypse Rainbow’

Somewhere over the post apocalypse rainbow
Houses are blown down, nuclear bunkers overflow
Tin pot world leaders wrap tin foil round their cold bones
Armies of straw men spread dissent in the war zones

Lionhearts are lost in the roar of nuclear explosion
Every road is glowing yellow brick, prone to easy erosion
The magic of technology used to bring armageddon
Answers to questions delivered by the push of a button

At The Wheel of the Neoliberal Juggernaut (remix)

The windscreen wipers are shredded completely
The tyres are bald, the bodywork rusty
Careering down the motorway middle lane
Hazard lights blinking in the driving rain
In the hold is a cargo, something toxic
Promises leaking from cardboard boxes
Rumbling down a road to plunder and prosperity
Neatly packaged lies sent to every city

Warning signs ignored by dangerous drivers
Full headlights guiding the all too oblivious
Radio tuned into high aspiration
Singing along to privatisation
The tank is full of fuel, but no new ideas
The rear view is smeared by the politics of fear
Experts say a crash is not so far away
Twisted metal, burning petrol, lucrative pay day