The Plagiarist (Rap MP)

I’m not wrong wing,

I'm right wing.

All I talked about was leaving.

But I'm still here.

*

Call me Chat GB: the artificial MP.

I only entered politics for my CV.

I don't have a job, unless you count TV.

and getting paid to pontificate on LBC.

*

Society's going downhill.

Shoplifting is the norm.

Knife crime's off the charts.

Even millionaires are poor.

But forget two-party miserablism.

Hello, neoliberalism!

I'm a free-market, free-thinker.

Patriotic rhetorician.

*

Words are my mien.

Know what I mean?

I know what they mean,

I just don't care...

*

I'm a neocon Dracula,

sucking your vernacular.

I twist meanings like fusilli,

like the Peyronie's on my willy.

I'm a liberal boogeyman.

I'm a tractor; you're a straw man.

I'll mispronounce your pronouns,

your gender agenda's not on mine.

*

I'll baffle you with my twaddle,

choke you on my mammoth piffle.

I'm a verbal abuser, this is textual assault.

And my jibes are like small boats,

'coz sometimes they don't land...

*

My financial liquidity

flows through my shorts.

I filled my boots

with Brussels money.

Now I'm stockpiling it at Coutts.

*

I'm a one-man hydrocarbon pump.

More methane than a Chinese dump.

I'm a four-star diesel deux chevaux,

internal combustion desperado.

Don't waste my time with net zero.

Just pull me back and watch me go.

*

(In my spare time I develop

novel forms of deportation,

foolproof ways to sink small boats,

and border fortification.)

*

I don't know why I'm like this.

Maybe mummy didn't love me.

Maybe daddy was distracted.

So being laddish counteracted

the gaps in my moral vertebrae.

I'm ethically dyspraxic,

politically paraplegic.

But my shortcomings only made me

a salutary, pseudo-Tory,

sanctimonious, success story.

*

Like every 90s boy band,

Reform is inevitable.

Our cohesion's weak,

our lyrics impe-net-rable.

Electorally, inexorably,

awkwardly heterosexually,

exceptionally Caucasianally,

inexplicably antivaccinally,

spreading through your community.

*

But we're no Old Boys Club –

we're upper middle age.

And upper middle class,

(but acting half our age).

*

We're your Brexit Bargain Bucket.

Dry and boneless, orange-skinned,

arterially congestive,

walking health warnings.

We spread disinformation,

in dissing formation.

Trapping disenchanted voters

like sewage barrage floaters.

Funnelling disaffected youth

with a bending of the truth.

*

We love female equality —

if it means you'll split the bill.

Even boardroom gender parity

helps the C-suite spank bank fill.

We're not sharing loos with you -

you're sharing them with us.

There's no confusing, chromosomally,

our small dick energy surplus.

*

No position is indefensible.

Can't even spell 'reprehensible',

We give props to propaganda.

(Don't give our facts a proper gander.)

Think of a number

Any one will do.

We'll put it on a bus

and quote it back at you.

*

You probably think that we're buffoons.

(Our HQ is a Wetherspoons.)

But we think we're

apocalyptic cavaliers.

Roughshod riders in tweed gear.

You think you've seen this all before:

when markets fall and fascists rise.

But we couldn't be dictators;

our discipline's in short supply.

We're not originals,

We're plagiarists.

Both dummies and ventriloquists,

out-dated thought contortionists.

We just tell you what you want to hear.

*

Theft is impossible if speech is free…

*

What was I saying?

I can't recall…

*

One too many lemonades

and my prostate's like a hand grenade.

But it doesn't matter what I say,

the last lot got the groundwork laid.

I'm just some drunkard pushed on stage.

A circus for the proles.

But the funny thing is they like me.

Now I'm leading in the polls!

Often I wonder,

What's that say about me..?

But the question we should all be asking is:

What's that say about GB?

Words and video by Addison Alder. Image by MidJourney. Music by SUNO AI.