This week on the blog, we've been looking at the road less travelled or, as I call it, the fightback of the British economy. You may be wondering what this has to do with poetry but, as we're stagnant again and it seems the chancellor has absolutely no idea which way is up, I figured it was my chance to vent at him.
Okay, so that wasn't very subtle but neither was George with his little red briefcase- and at least I've not tried to bugger you this morning. Had I attempted it, there'd be plenty of squealing done as I've torn the ligaments in my foot playing football. Here I am then, playing through the pain and making sure I get a topical boot in. Enjoy (which is probably not the right word).
Please sir, can we have some more?
Dear George, I'm rather curious
Just what is it you do
It seems that our economy
Is faltering with you
The only growth is growing old
We're stagnant in our 'spacious' homes
Please tax us, so we feel we own
A stake in this great fightback.
Without you George, we'd all be stuck
Probably in some deeper rut
Where all the doors are slamming shut
with no chance to escape.
Your fresh idea of bigger cuts
Most excellent, let's stop those scruffs
and reward those who enter Crufts
the foresight is quite staggering.
Whilst you're on a roll, why not attack
The families with nothing yet put back
Why shouldn't strivers pay extra tax
and be thankful, just for working?
For curiously, we're going backwards
With all these cuts and stealthy taxes
Bedrooms are a privilege for lower classes
Anyone for a second home?
Yes George, we all now live in fear
Despite 4 pence less tax on our pint of beer
Can you still not see that your numbers are queer
Maybe someone can tell you on twitter.
There's no money George and with you, there won't be
Stop your messing with the British economy
We've been downgraded, so hashtag that
Now trending: @george_osborne, twat.
Thanks for reading,
Shaun.
