I’ve never glued my hands

to anything,

except for that time

when I was making that model

of a Fokker Triplane

that my mam got me

for passing some exams.

I’ve been on loads of demos,

protesting against

the racist National Front

who marched through my town,

whilst police dogs

snapped at my heels.

I’ve been on demos against the BNP ,

who admired a so-called “Labour” Dame

for her racist dog-whistle housing policy;

a potty mouth, and no lady.

I’ve sung anti-war protest songs,

against the Vietnam war, Northern Ireland war,

been on Anti-B.Liar Iraq Stop The War demos,

But…here’s the strangest of things…

I’ve never conformed

to all those stereotypes,

that keep getting trotted out,

you know the ones…

wearing scruffy clothes,

jackets with leather elbow patches,

never wore a sloppy Joe,

I don’t have long hair,

number one for me,

all round,

every time,

squared off neckline,

makes me look well ‘ard.

I’m not a tree hugger,

though I have to admit

to frequently

barking up the wrong one.

I’m a fan of Jesus,

‘cos he was a socialist,

though I draw the line

at wearing sandals.

I don’t eat muesli,

for the simple reason

that it sticks in my teeth

where my fillings ought to be,

that’s why I’ve banned myself

from pork scratchings.

I don’t read the Guardian…

not unless I want to see

that brilliant cartoonist

extracting the urine

from some low-life 30p

Gammony Tnuc of a Canute

National Frontesque

UK parliamentarian

rabble-rouser.

I’m not a vegetarian;

not through choice,

but because after Wrecksit

there’s no-one left in the UK

to pick our cabbages and carrots.

I don’t have dreadlocks,

though I do like reggae music.

I’ve never smoked weed,

though in my late teens

I had a brief flirtation

with a briar full of Old Holborne,

Now, whether all that

earns me the title

of “Looney Lefty”

(as a child I was a fan of Looney Tunes)

or “Snowflake”

(I occasionally suffer from dandruff)

I’m like that lady in Corrie-

“I don’t reallly know”,

in fact,

I don’t GIVE a damn!

 

But frankly my dear,

I DO GIVE A DAMN,

that in 2023 Britain,

children living in my town,

living in my street,

going to the same school

that my dad went to,

are going hungry,

sick, hungry and poor,

all because giving

Johnny Forriner

one in the eye

on behalf

of some lying

fascistic gobshite,

you know the kind:

(him and his mates

marched through a village

at night singing “Gas ‘em all,

Gas ‘em all!”)

Took priority

Over voting

for a government that

DOES GIVE A DAMN.