Dear Friends,
British Labor protects the rape gangs you see,
As democrats defend pedos from you and me,
Do flock together,
And scumbags that harm children gather politically.
The cultural elite are mere political shills,
Pushing elitism with Bernaysian skills,
What fun they don’t poke,
When dancing around absurdity with bitter pills.
It’s hard to get a car to surge ahead,
Standing on the brakes glowing red,
Unlimited rule,
And with communists and fascists they sleep in bed.
The elite are saving democracy from the populists,
Lit blue by monitors censoring and making lists,
Cancel the election right now,
The oligarch said in a row,
As he pounded the table with his closed fists.
Of all the hills to fight over,
Defending a national horror,
And blind in one eye,
But that’s what you can expect from Labour.
Sincerely,
John Pepin
