The kiddie-giggling boy-men types,

Who shape our tastes and fuel our gripes,

Are like a zebra with no stripes.

Their views today are painted on;

Those of the past are long, long gone.

They rule the culture like machines,

And serve up, bite-sized, on our screens,

An option menu for our dreams.

The bad ones will be swept away;

Nice shall prevail day after day.

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Politics lurks everywhere we look:

Politics of dithering and backtrack,

Of scaremongers and big-boy nostalgia.

Nowhere to hide. In the US of A,

Blusterman is lying through his teeth.

Meanwhile, the same old suspects starve,

Or steal to fill their bellies or their habit,

While, next door to this, others lead their lives,

Trying honesty to round off each year’s end.

Throug...

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Does he know that he’s lying

Or is he perhaps past caring?

Or has he now crossed that line

Where rights and wrongs intertwine

To a point beyond repairing?

Do we care if he’s telling lies?

Well, it seems that some people do;

They’ve had it up to here with him

And for the moment things look grim

For the Captain and his motley crew.

Could it be true he’s finall...

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