A Little Englander Speaks His Mind

You can see him propping up every bar
pontificating with a pint in hand
about the state we're in

as he sups his warm beer
and he's not a racist
but there's too many immigrants over here

too many foreigners taking our jobs
and all of these Muslims with their bombs and their burkas

- don't get him wrong, he's nothing against them -

but, you know, the whole place
is going to the dogs

and all of these Romanians
and all of the Poles
living on benefits, getting the dole

and all of these migrants
who never bother to learn English

and foreign aid - what's that about?
charity begins at home, surely?

and while we're at it,
all of these scroungers on the sink estates
these four-by-four mothers
with their snotty-nosed kids

these dysfunctional families
that terrorise the neighbourhoods
and the bone-idle bastards
who've never done a day's work in their lives
while we've got to go to work
just to pay for them sitting on their fat arses

and all of these politicians -
don't get him started -
they're all the bloody same,
too lily-livered, too faint-hearted

only in it to fiddle their expenses
and further their careers

he interrupts himself, as he finishes off his beer

I'll tell you now, he says,
the lot of them's finished,
there's no votes for them anymore round here

the sooner we're out of Europe the better
we'll pull up the drawbridge and keep the buggers out
and we'll have none of these ridiculous rules and regulations
none of your Strasbourg human rites
and none of your Brussels bureaucrats

no more being swamped by Eastern Europeans
no more being dictated to by the frogs and the krauts

we'll make our own decisions, thankyou
and we'll put the great in Britain again

he looks at his watch -
is that the time, he says, he must be going

he bids us a cheery farewell
and steps out into the English rain