Designer Blairites

Designer Blairites, not so cute,
Wear trendy glasses and a suit,
No more denim or patched knees,
They still have kids and PhD’s,
Live comfortably in spotless homes
Just like other sold-out drones,
Not questioning integrity,
They’re happy with prosperity,
And blame, for every party schism,
Those who cling to Socialism.
The working class can kiss their ass,
They’re members of the Middle class,
Who don’t care for the poor and weak,
For they don’t vote, instead they speak
For people in the centre ground,
Where smug and selfish folk abound,
But they still care about the old,
So give them money for the cold,
Whist clearly telling all the rest,
“Savings, not pensions serve you best.”
Tony’s cronies drive posh cars,
And meet in trendy sushi bars,
They think that its OK to be
Well-to-do materially,
But still claim that they represent
The powerless and less affluent.
To exercise their intellect
They dream up ideas like ‘Respect’
Forgetting that the cause of crime
Is alienation every time,
And knowing that you’ll never be
Respected in society.
Good Blairites cannot plan their day
Unless they have their P.D.A.
And Blairite campaign trouble shooters
Would be lost without computers.
Blairites of the best design
Still only ever drink fine wine
But wouldn’t dream of getting pissed,
Just in case a chance were missed,
To sell their colleague or their soul
To escalate the greasy pole.
The men still spout on equal rights
Whilst cornering, with boys’ club fights,
The power jobs with influence,
So they can enjoy deference.
The only women who survive,
Are those who help the boys’ clubs thrive,
Associate boys’ club members who
Trail in the wake of the chosen few,
Never challenging the way
They plot and scheme and throw away
Every leftist principle
So they remain invincible.
But Tony Blair has just stood down,
And been replaced by Gordon Brown,
So Tony’s cronies are bereft,
Scared in case Gordon Brown turns left,
With Harriet Harman in cahoots,
Returning Labour to its roots.
Will Tony’s cronies sink and drown?
No, they’ll defect to Gordon Brown!

© Lynne Joyce, June 2007.