If Cameron came to my house I'd ask him in for tea

I’d say that I am honoured that he’d talk to me.

We'd talk over some tea and toast, I’d ask the burning question,

Like how the fuck he managed to win that last election?

 

And if he started chatting on or tried to sell me short,

I’d quickly counter his reply with a well thought out retort.

 

If Cameron came to my house we'd talk about pollution,

We'd talk about the banks, the war and Scottish devolution,

About the coalition,

About the national debt

About his old mate Mr Clegg and how we won't forget,

They fucked with Bevan's NHS, the army and police

Then take a break for Youtube clips of uprisings in Greece.

 

If Cameron came to my house for a candid little meeting

The reception would be chilly I can’t afford the heating,

He'll never live in my shoes not even for a minute,

For a start I'm in a seven I doubt that he'd fit in it.

 

No!

 

If Cameron came to my house I'd take the twat to task

And ask the probing questions that you might like to ask.

I couldn't shake his icy hand

I wouldn't 'call' him twat,

A cunt,

a fuck, a bastard or anything like that

 

If Cameron came to my house, although composed and quite polite,

I’d try to make it clear I think that he talks shite.

 

If Cameron came to my house we'd sit and I’d be calm

While trying to resist the urge to break the fuckers arms

 

So David....

 

Rest assured that my house is in a cul-de-sac

you can make another U turn and find a safe way back,

To Westminster, 10 Downing Street, the hub of British power,

Where I guarantee no fucker works for six pound odd an hour.