why do right wing politicians want more of right’s babies?

often the right is white,

it’s old and for the most part polite.

under the surface brawls dog-calls to big dog to save them, help borace!

anyway, the polite old white folks want more babies please,

they’re workers are all striking, they need new ones to lease!

you’re cattle to these people,

sometimes very well taken care of if you’re the right’s kind of breed.

but that’s not enough, are you rich, are you royalty?

if no then you’re cattle my friend,

just another one of those subhumans.

the morlocks need more meat from the eloi,

“..hey herd, get ready for the bang, it’s big enough to be heard by handies wang!.”

don’t know who said that, maybe postman pat?

so they want to make more white babies,

in the US, that’s madness!

in the UK, it’s a big concern, but probably best to panic!

this is really a cry for help, please help us suppress russian and fascist forces attempting to take over the UK, ok!

please help, please step in, we are a weakened nation,

remember those big calls that infected lots of folks,

we’re being starved, and suppressed,

we cannot even cry at the treacherous for killing our old folks,

so please help us, our pm is in charge of the nukes! (maybe.)

he’s become deranged, running back to his handler, lord lobodob of snobabob, or something like that.

I dunno, he shouldn’t even be here,

it’s quite clear that this government works with russia,

isn’t it? I am here and I don’t think you out there know, we’re a victim of a devastating attack by the russian kingpin.

he destroyed us with a clown doll,

filled with spite and entitlement.

he still sits there, still in the chair,

of the first oligarch of borisiawear,

king rollo of polo, biggest balloon in the air,

chubbly wombly burp bucket bojo!

king bojo the spoilt,

king bojo the manchild,

king bojo the grate,

king bojo of hate,

king bojo the ruffian,

king bojo not russian,

king bojo the buttstick,

king bojo of nowhere!

those that have been wooed by it’s charms,

blob of custard, wobbles bastard,

licking your arms, even to me,

I quickly brushed him aside, just a new face on TV.

but still they kept voting for him time and time again?

why did you do that? he’s a posh twat!

entitlement oozes from his protrudements,

blobbity blob bojo, goes bumbling into your nose!

you love him so much, you forgive the big baby,

he don’t know what a prime minister is supposed to be,

poor bojo, the clown, the baby faced frown!

he has no power, he borrows it from his lobodob, russian charmer lord snobabob,

or something like that.

do you think they’ll kill me for even mentioning his pet name,

you know he calls you, behind you back, lord blobbabog?

you should bug him,

I’m sure your kingpin would love to hear what his asset says.

hey, traitor, why you still here?

go now, that’s you’re best offer,

the brayers brawl butchers are after your rump,

stay much longer and you’ll be someone’s lunch!

a message to the contenders, the pretenders,

the sins of your pm will be picked up for your sins,

you want the poison chalice that the halfwitted gone-son passes?

“..you’re all fucking mad..”

“..sucking on too much fag ash..”

“..mourning the loss of butlins propaganda in the morning..”

“..he’s still there, and he did what with a chair!.”

nothing surprises me anymore apart from empathy,

people in charge who care,

about what he’s doing to that chair!

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString

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