by Steve Pottinger, with image above by Martin Gollan
Wearing Benjie’s dirty undies like a helmet on his head
Toolman doesn’t raise a finger for the hundred thousand dead
or the kids with amputations. A role model he ain’t.
But watch him go apoplectic when you spray red paint.
The bombs he sells the IDF might look, to you and me,
like complicity in terror. But they’re innocent, you see.
Toolman has no problem with them – what he cannot stand
is red paint sprayed on aeroplanes. So red paint must be banned.
Toolman pulls those dirty undies down tight over his ears
proclaims red paint’s a form of terror, thinks he’ll play upon our fears
but his schtick just isn’t working. Toolman’s nightmare’s coming soon:
a spike in sales of tins of scarlet, tins of postbox, and maroon.
