My Campaign
Roll up! Roll up! And vote for me, This rare day of democracy! Your Independent candidate Is up for vigorous debate On any issue - you may pick it; I shall add it to my ticket. Join me! Wear my fine rosette! I found these on the internet, The symbolism quite apparent - Frills and ribbons all transparent. My platform? I am anti-greed. ‘To each according to his need.’ So - nurses’ wages? They must rise; That should come as no surprise. I am also on the ball With soccer - salaries must fall To where they were back in the day When games were televised in grey; The pricey foreigners must go So local lads can run the show. Then we can all afford to cheer Our teams three dozen times a year! The beating heart of my campaign Is second homes. Let me explain, That only for a licence fee In this corrupt economy Should anyone at all be given More than a single house to live in. After somewhere nice to stay With kids or friends on holiday? You’ll have to rough it like the rest Of us, and be a hotel guest. Open the villages again To local folk and working men! My logo is a garden gnome: “Make every house a proper home.” Still on the theme of rural life, One phrase that cuts me like a knife Is “National Park.” A park’s for play. We’re throwing peace and space away, Granting the ignorant permission To tramp the wild into submission. I’ll curb the greedy National Trust, Stop all the farms from going bust, Punish the waste of food, and pull Strings to revive the trade in wool. (... Remember the verses on the bus And tube that once delighted us? When Brummel Beau, the swell of swells Electrified the Brighton Belles, The Prince would hover in the offing, Killing romance with fits of coughing. ‘Another cold, Sire? Listen do! To be well-dressed be wool-dressed too! In elegance it is the rule, There is no substitute for Wool!’) We must control our lust for oil, Return the plough-horse to the soil. Spread the forests, marsh and heath, Meadow and moor, till we can breathe. I can see progress here and there, But people need another scare - We’re seeing fewer plastic-trees Yet micro-beads are in the seas And particles lodged in the brain May drive us secretly insane. Is our poisoned air why we Deny the world’s divinity?... I’ll fight the rising tide of noise From shrieking girls and fighting boys; The clubs and bars will close at ten, And we can get some sleep again... Under a blazing Milky Way Once light is limited to day. No fireworks may be lit before November 5th; I’m waging war On every huge exploding shell That turns an evening into hell For those with post-traumatic stress, And trembling pets. The friendliness Of toffee-apples round the fire, Sooty potatoes, rockets higher Than stars, and flowers of coloured light Are joys enough on Fireworks Night. And those who wind their windows down To blast their ‘music’ through the town And all who leave their engines running For ages at the kerb, I’m gunning For you! You shake the old, the ill, The tired - I’ll force you to keep still. Many end up on a ward, Sick or broken, stressed and bored. On my watch, to help us heal We shall feast at every meal. Morale will soar - and if we get a Smile as well, we’ll soon be better! Prevention always trumps a cure; In Whitehall thrift has great allure: I’ll save the NHS a packet, Ruining Big Pharma’s racket. Garlic scrips at fifty pee, Will keep the country virus-free. (You take it raw, with lots of food. It does your blood and body good.) And when you go to see the Doc He won’t be looking at the clock And neither will your daily carer - Pay and practice must be fairer. Nobody should lie all day Unloved until they waste away. Roll up! Roll up and vote for me! I’ll do my best as your MP To purge pollution, waste and lies; Let’s save the world before it dies. |