By Chris Norris
1
Quite something, bold Sir Keir: an honour rare!
Scarcely a year in office, and it’s you
Who stand unchallenged as one of the two
Most hated Labour leaders, fit to bear
The banner of iniquity and do
Whatever dirty work falls to your share,
And so beyond all doubt a worthy heir
To him who turned the red flag deepest blue,
Joined arch-warmonger Bush in unctuous prayer
Before the killing-spree, fixed many a coup
To keep the world safe for capital, and threw
His lot in with each blood-soaked billionaire.
2
You’ve made it now, Sheer Smarmer, earned your due
In hatred and contempt from those who dare
Still call themselves true socialists and wear
That badge whatever furtive change of hue
You and your craven kindred spirit Blair
May smuggle in to help you carry through
Some genocidal arms-deal, or to woo
Man-baby Trump and maybe have him spare
You and your double-dealing front-bench crew
Another bunch of tariffs. So take care
To breathe deep each eruption of hot air
And arse-lick promptly when arse-licking’s due.
3
But heed this: there are socialists out there
Who’ve sussed your game and take the dimmest view
Of how you’ve quickly managed to subdue
Those last, faint calls of conscience and thus square
Your keenness to take first place in the queue
For fascist favours with your now threadbare,
Once decent reputation as a fair
If none too bright Director of Public Prosecutions who,
Given half a chance, then opted to ‘repair
Our close-knit US ties’ and so eschew
The ties of shared humanity that drew
Protesters in their millions to declare
The fixed intent that you’d be made to rue
Your part in the destruction, the despair,
The Palestinian genocide. Beware,
Fear Karma, think what crimes you’re party to!
