St George's knight

 

You paint yourself in your cross.

Red on white. St George's knight.

"It’s holy, right!?"

 

You spout on the news

"Were protecting the women"

 

Would that be the same women

that succumb to your daily abuse

when your football team lose,

when you've had a sip of booze,

when your gammon and eggs

are a little too loose?

Or the same women that

clean up after you,  picking up the bill

cos your money hasn’t gone through,

making your dinner because that

is below you?

"It’s a girls job, not something

a real man would do."

 

You say they are filthy.

 

As you sit, wallowing in your own

excrement. Shit son, you missed a bit,

no wait sorry that’s just the stains

from days already gone.

Whilst they clean themselves

down for the 5th time today,

but hey, it is they that is dirty, you say.

Whilst you flirt with the idea

of maybe giving yourself a quick

flannel wipe, and a spray of lynx Africa,

before joining the lads for a beer and a fight.

 

"I just have national pride, think of all

those people that died for our freedom"

Yeah, those same people you call names

and deride. Whilst you wouldn’t know

your arse from your elbow, let alone history,

as you march  in time with Farage’s fascist rhyme.

 

Or is it possibly cos you are an ape shaped pig?

Is that really why your so scared?

Trim the fat and all that’s left is just gas and air.

 

Wetherspoons on a Friday morning.

The devil’s own sausage party.

Out with the boys. Bring on the beer.

A lot of hugs for someone

that is scared of being seen as soft.

Scared to be called queer. Oh dear.

That is the smallest of your worries.

Well almost the smallest.

 

You and your crackhead

screw loose friends,

you’ve been out on the piss,

you’re like a diver with the bends

rising through lakes of hell

and it always ends with the sound

of cracked shells as your fists continue to land.

 

"Ooh you must be one of those leftie snowflakes.

You know, the news is all fake, right,

the world is flat, and boats are causing

waves upon our shores"

 

Here comes the same tired excuse for

using a fist to fix something not broken…

 

"Whilst you give applause,

and participation trophies.

What about us? There are no

white lives matter signs,

or sigh, straight pride.

This used to be a proud land.

Green and pleasant."

 

You say burning it to the ground.

Fires that you started, burning people

from house and home. Fascist scum

 

"You wouldn’t see us taking over

other lands, or basking in the sunshine,

of some foreign sands. Ibiza is Britain, right?

They have fish, chips and pies

and I’ll smother it in curry sauce. Nice.

Good English grub. None of that foreign muck.

Now give me another can of Stella, will ya mi duck?

Better make that 3. I need some courage of the Dutch.

They just announced a new mosque

being built down the city, I’ll be home in time for tea"