Have Some Mulled Wine and Chill the F@ck Out

There seems to be some eejits kicking off again back home,
Each hooded thug resisting change like a single little ohm.
What terrible abuse of rights has caused this peace abortion?
They've taken down a flag? Well, that seems in proportion...

The lads are going ape shit, throwing bricks at the police,
It's good to get some exercise when you're out on day release.
The women find a tv crew and screech into the lens,
"If they're gona take our flag down, then we won't be their friends!"

That kid has got a petrol bomb, he can't be more than ten,
Don't worry, round the Shankill they're highly trained by then.
He know's what he's doing as he lights the oily rag,
And I'll once again remind you, this is about a FUCKING FLAG.

That pregnant woman over there, with the cider in her hand,
She's joined her fellow comrades in the street to make a stand.
That's dedication for you, in her delicate condition.
She's still out there in the cold, providing sources of ignition.

So you can fly the union flag no more than 15 days a year,
Which is a threat to your culture and the things that you hold dear.
I think that you're confused about the point of city hall,
It's for goths to hate the world in, and Christmas market stalls.

The Olympic Nightmare

I’m not awfully fussed, about this awful lot of fuss,

For what’s essentially a Lycra lover’s dream.

It’s not my place to say, but I’ll do it anyway,

These Olympics are not everything they seem.

“It’s the greatest show on earth”, no hint of irony or mirth,

That’s the bit that I find very hard to swallow,

“The Olympics will surprise you” Let me quietly advise you,

That the Chinese aren’t an easy act to follow.

“We’ll never see the like again”, the world’s most runny, jumpy men,

Will run and jump like no one ever has before.

But as far as I can see, it’s just a sports day on TV,

Except it’s costing over 13 billion more.

If you’re going by all means, please enjoy the festive scenes,

But remember al Qaeda want to kill you.

In summation as I see it, if you can then you should flee it,

Regardless of what Ryanair might bill you.

Let your children paint...

My friend is having problems, it’s really rather bad,

And I think it may have started when he fell out with his dad.

He wants to be an artist; he’s made that very clear,

But his dad believes that art’s a poor excuse for a career.

A few years on, things are worse; his dad is in the ground,

He’s got an awful lot of anger, he’s very tightly wound.

He needs an outlet to deal with what is eating at his core,

But instead he’s joined the army; he’s off to fight a war.

The war has not done much to help his anger it would seem,

If anything his views are tending more to the extreme.

I don’t know how, but now there’s millions who’ll obey his every order,

And it would seem he’s sent an army marching through the Polish border.

How's It Going So Far Jesus?

This one’s going out to the little baby Jesus,

Who by now should be one month old.

He’d be lucky if he hasn’t got himself a few diseases,

And it was common at the time for young babies to be sold.

If that’s not bad enough there’s a king who wants him dead,

And he’s still in that shed with all the sheep.

After a difficult birth, he’s got a misshapen head,

And those gifts were just a loan, those men were wise, but also cheap.

And yet there’s more, it would seem his mum and dad are splitting up,

On the basis of genetic ambiguity,

It’s hard not to feel a little sorry for the pup,

A child needs a normal head, and a sense of continuity.

There’s some things I’d like to tell him, that his life won’t be all bad,

That someday, he’ll be everybody’s boss.

And if he doesn’t know already, the big man is his dad,

Which is why his mates eventually will nail him to a cross