Dear God, help the people

of Clacton-on-Sea,

who, thinking that things

were as bad as could be,

imagined their saviour,

that frog with a gob,

with a laugh and a smoke,

and a pint in his hand,

the working-man’s bloke,

might change his behaviour,

might just do his job,

keeping shit from their rivers

and shit from their shores?

but his amour now is orange,

s...

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