Yes, the usual apologies to Paul McCartney ...
[four bars of plaintive harp music]
Friday morning at five o’clock as the day begins
One final glance round the smart Whitehall flat
Cursing the lawyers and kicking the cat
She goes downstairs to the limo, clutching her handkerchief
Now for the letter she knows she must write
How did it all turn to shite?
She's (I'm just a working class lass )
breaching (Just a poor working class lass)
the Code (What can you do when you've no old school tie?)
Hitting the road after breaching the Code in so many ways
Starmer snorts as he wanders round in his dressing gown
Picks up the letter the courier brought
Standing in triumph; another great snort
He laughs loud, and cries to Victoria
“Whoopee! - our Angie's gone!
How did she think she could have my job?
Always just shooting her gob!”
She (I did it all for the kids)
was breaching (Nice flat in Hove for my kids)
the Code (I wanted everything money could buy)
Tried to explode the establishment Code for so many years
Sunday morning at nine o’clock she is back in Hove
Making a call to her old comrade Jez
Join his new party? - let's see what he says ...
She's (What did I do that was wrong?)
no judgement! (I didn’t know it was wrong)
None! (Judgement's the one thing that money can't buy)
Couldn't explode the establishment Code after all those tears
Crushed by the Code (bye bye)
ND
5 comments:
Superb
Yes, execllent. You are being very sympathetic to her, though.
One must add - as all folks schooled in the classics now, that Nemesis follows Hubris. Poor Ms/ Rayner. Not only fiddling her taxes, but stealing from her son's disability compensation fund to buy the Hove house.
Brought up near Stockport, I have a deep love of the town. Increased by working there for five years as a schoolboy and student at Robinson's Brewery, still a family owned business and producing exquisite beer.
The along come Little Owen Jones, and BIg Ange. Both slurs on the good name of Stockport. Owen, of course, would like to think of himself as working class, but he was brought up in a leafy part of Davenport, a small borough between Bramhall and Stockport.
Both, useless wretches.
Bravo
"She goes down the stairs to the limo, clutching her handkerchief " will match the original for meter
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