Charlie Brooker’s Ode to The Sun
Social workers. Women in burkas.
Left-wingers, suburban swingers.
Binge-drinkers, forward thinkers,
Gypsies, shirkers, public sector workers.
Underage mums, overage mums,
Spongers who sit around twiddling their thumbs.
Anyone who has had a fight, anyone with cellulite.
Looters, saggy hooters, feminists, Leninists
Satanists who take the piss.
So called “expert boffins”, the escorts who let Frank Bough in.
Anyone caught cheating. Angus Deayton.
The England squad, the goalies hands
The manager, the Hillsborough fans.
Speed cameras, reckless drivers
Snotty jobsworths, feckless skivers.
Trendy vicars wearing knickers
Lezzers, benders, the cast of EastEnders,
Leslie Grantham, foreigners who can’t sing our national anthem.
The French, the Portuguese, the Krauts, the MEPs.
Argentina, Polish Cleaners, anyone who lives in Spain or starts a human rights campaign.
Geeks, freaks, crackers, hackers, killjoys, pillocks,
Toy boys. Kinnocks.
Moaners. Miners. Former men with new vaginas.
The local hoody, Jade Goody,
Jailbirds, nerds, troubled song birds, long words
And cheating turds on disability benefits who
Don’t seem quite disabled enough for their liking.
And Chris Jefferies, Russell Harty,
Members of the Green party.
Anyone who says “recycle”, Wayward superstar George Michael
Channel 4, ITV, Channel Five, the BBC.
Over-eaters, asylum seekers,
Especially if they snuck into Britain using any kind of vessel.
Katie Waissel. Katie Waissel’s prozzie gran. Iran.
Emperor Hirohito of Japan.
Zealous coppers, wife-swappers.
Bureaucrats, Eurocrats, non existent feral cats.
An innocent man called Robert Murat.
The cast of The Only Way Is Essex,
The Leveson Inquiry into media ethics,
And the occasional supermodel bitches.
But never ever witches.
(poem/rap by Charlie Brooker, I merely set it out poetically and added punctuation where I saw fit).
