Any Budget Will Do

[As Alistair Darling completed his first Budget speech in the House of Commons, Gordon Brown, dressed in a multi-coloured robe, unexpectedly burst into song.]

I cross my fingers, in times uncertain,
Will it go for a Burton,
the economy we knew?
In the USA, mortgages foreclosing
Are economic woes exposing
What’s it gonna do?

I‘d hoped the cloud, had a golden lining
Of interest rates declining,
Promoting growth anew
But across the world, inflation’s rising
With global firms downsizing
What’s it gonna do?

A crash of stocks!
A credit crunch!
My rosy outlook’s out to lunch

Consumer spending fades to nothing
The budget’s left adrift

May I return to the arms of prudence
With fiscal rule improvements,
And balanced budgets too
Alistair and I, are hoping growth will freshen
Will we see recession?
What’s it gonna do?

Bring back my reputation,
For prudence and for growth
Bring back low levels of inflation,
And unbroken years of growth!

Cleggsy Malone

In Prime Minister’s Question Time, Tory Leader, ‘Dandy Dave’, called the PM, ‘Fat Gord’, a “no-good dirty rat”. The PM replied with a volley of custard pies; whereupon the shadow cabinet discharged splurge-guns into the Labour ranks and cream-splattered MPs set about each other.

Suddenly, everyone stopped as the sound of an unexpected piano rang out and the Liberal Democrat Leader, Cleggsy Malone, started to sing…

We could have done anything
We wanted to do
Like run the country quite well
Our efforts so far have oft come to naught
Is it the pointless battles we have fought?

[MPs on all sides begin swaying and singing along]

We could have done anything
We wanted to do
Like something worthy of praise
We’ve been derided
Our expenses misguided
Let’s put aside our jaundiced ways

We could have done anything
We wanted to do
Without these soundbites and spin
Let’s debate on a basis of facts
And not the petty points of partisan attacks
We could be the best there’s ever been

We could have done anything
We wanted to do
Make co-operation our style
We’d get together
So we’d decide whether
We could do it right once in a while

[Fighting resumes as Cleggsy Malone is pelted with custard pies from his own party]

Hymns Ancient and Modern

The Church of England is at the centre of a new storm as the words to Jerusalem are changed in line with the modern media age.

Jerusalem

And were those words in modern time
Distorted by England's media circus?
And was the message misconstrued
As “England's lasses should wear burkas” ?

And did the journalists tabloid
Pour forth their verbal diarrhoea?
And were the newspapers so annoyed
About the Bishop and Sharia?

Bring me my pen of purple prose!
Bring me my headline puns so dire!
Bring me my ignorance exposed!
Don’t bring the facts, I won’t enquire!

I will make news sensational,
And I shall feed hysteria,
Till we have stoked the frenzied rage
Of England's vulgar tabloid media.

Fairy Tale of New York Stock Exchange

We are rogues
We are witty
Bright sparks of the City,
When the banks finish paying
They pay us some more.

On futures we’re betting,
But it’s losses we’re getting.
With fraud we can hide ‘em
Then hoodwink them all.

The boys of the New York Stock Exchange
Want the markets propping up
And the central banker’s response
Is an interest rate cut.

By “The Rogues”
Jerome Kerviel on accordion, Nick Leeson on tin whistle, John Rusnak on mandolin.

“The Rogues” take their name from the Investment Bankers’ motto róg mo thóin meaning “kiss my arse”. Their latest album “Rogue Traders” is causing a big buzz in the market.

The Lobster Quadrille

"The polls are in our favour," said a man to Gordon Brown,
"With Labour going up in them and the Tories going down,
See how easily the media misinterpret circumspection!
They are waiting for you now to call a snap election."

"Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you call a snap election?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you call a snap election?"

Said Cameron to his conference, "We'll elucidate our goals,
With the public flocking to us, we'll be rising in the polls!
You can really have no notion how big will be my grin,
Electoral victory's in the bag, we cannot fail to win!"

"Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not fail to win.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not fail to win."

"What matters it how well we do?" Sir Menzies Campbell said,
"There'll be another poll, you know, once this election's dead.
The further we're from Cameron the nearer we're to Brown,
It matters not how well we do, we claim the centre ground."

"Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you claim the centre ground?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you claim the centre ground?"

[with apologies to Lewis Carol]

Carbon Emission Rhapsody

[apologies to Queen: Bohemian Rhapsody]
[N.B. read it with the original song in your head otherwise it doesn't scan very well]

Is this the real truth?
Is this just an excuse?
Causing a tax rise
To screw up our economy?
Open your eyes
Look out at the skies and sea
I'm a consumer, it's our economy
Because I'm feeling fine, let it go
taxes high, keep 'em low
Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me,
To me

Mama, just drove away
Put some petrol in my car
Put my foot down, there you are
Mama, I drive like everyone
But now they've gone and raised the tax today
Mama, oooo, didn't want this CO2
But I'm gonna keep on driving till tomorrow
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters

Too late, the change has come
Sending temperatures so high
To Arctic ice we wave goodbye
Goodbye summer ice - you've got to go
Gonna melt away and flow into the sea
Mama oooo - (any way the wind blows)
I don't know what to do
I sometimes wish we'd never found oil at all

I see a lot of human beings burning carbon
America, America will you cut emissions?
Hurricane Katrina - very, very frightening - see
Global warming, Global warming
Global warming, Global warming
Global warming, here we go - increasing so

I'm just a polar bear living on the tundra
He's just a polar bear, the ice is melting under
Spare him his life, as the glaciers split asunder
Melting ice, melting snow, thawing out the ice floe
Alaska! Snow! We're losing ice and snow -let it snow
Canada! The frozen tundras go -let it snow
In Greenland! Where is the icy floe? -let it snow
Where is the icy floe? -let it snow
Where is the icy floe? -let it snow
Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, snow
Oh Mama mia, mama mia, a polar bear he needs the snow
Beware the ice'll cause the levels all to rise at sea,
at sea,
at sea

So you think you can stop it by planting a tree?
So you think you can live on the floodplain of river and sea?
Oh maybe -You'll get away with it maybe
Just gotta cut our - just gotta cut our emissions here

oooo, oo yeah, oo yeah

Emissions really matter,
Anyone can see,
Emissions really matter, Emissions really matter, you see

Any way the wind blows....

when constabulary duty's to be done

When the Saudi royal family buys some arms
(Buys some arms)
Of corruption there is often allegation,
(Allegation)
One expects a little money to grease palms
(To grease palms)
But foremost there comes the interests of the nation.
(Of the nation)

Our enquiries we with difficulty smother
('Culty smother)
With them wanting us to stop what we've begun.
(We've begun)
Taking one consideration with another,
(With another)
A policeman's job is not seen to be done.

Not wanting our commercial deals undone,
A policeman's job is not seen to be done,
(to be done)

With electioneering costing more and more,
(More and more)
And when lordships and the honours can be sold,
(Can be sold)
After all that's what they were invented for,
('Vented for)
By Lloyd George and the Prime Ministers of old.
('Sters of old)

When the PM's finished talking to the Police,
(To the Police)
With politicians counting each and every vote,
(Every vote)
Investigating slowly piece by piece,
(Piece by piece)
A policeman's job is not to rock the boat.

When the PM must be 'purer than the pure', quote unquote,
A policeman's job is not to rock the boat,
(rock the boat)

{with apologies to Gilbert & Sullivan}

Neanderthal Poem

Forty thousand years ago,
When Europe was a land of snow,
And mammoths roamed the permafrost,
Two Stone Age hominids got lost.

With ease (both being broad and stocky),
They scrambled over ice all rocky.
A blizzard worse than they could brave,
Made them shelter in a cave.

They'd failed to find a scrap to eat,
The howling snow had got them beat.
They set a fire and sat all day,
Their tummies rumbling in dismay.

'Twas then that one Neanderthal
Looked with hunger at his pal.
Slavering as he licked his lips,
He gazed upon those meaty hips.

Picking up a piece of rock,
He gave his mate a mighty knock.
He cut off slices from the bum,
And on the fire he cooked his chum.

Finishing off the meat he'd served,
He thought a moment and observed:
"No greater love has friend for me,
Who lays his life down for my tea."

(Did starving Neanderthals eat each other?)

Shy Bladder, Bashful Bowel

There was an obsessive compulsive,
With bowels in spasms convulsive,
But they just couldn't do,
A poo on the loo,
'Cause they found public toilets repulsive.

In today's news, we learn that the UK National Phobics Society is launching a campaign to help the estimated 4 million UK people who suffer from toilet phobia.

Dumpty Rumpty

Donald Rumsfeld was set on a war.
Donald Rumsfeld was terribly sure.
But American forces and American men,
Couldn't put Iraq together again.