Andy Burnham has been cleared to run in a by-election, presumably because the British political landscape simply didn't have enough ego in it already. Elsewhere, tens of thousands descended on London to shout at each other over different bits of land, while hundreds more queued for a £335 Swatch—proving that the UK housing market isn't the only thing where people will pay absurd prices for something that ticks. Meanwhile, a teenager was jailed for killing a grandmother with an e-bike, and a farming family were fined £19,000 for trampling rare flowers. It seems whether you're on two wheels or a tractor, the British countryside remains an excellent place to cause absolute havoc.
🎵 (s)Hit of the Day 🎵
Version 1
Version 2
📜 Lyrics 📜
[Intro]
[Bass groove enters, heavy and lumbering]
[String quartet fades in with uneasy sustained notes]
[Guitar chops echo into the void]
[Verse 1]
Andy's cleared to run again, the party's saving face
A fresh new start from twenty-ten, the same old bloody case
He'll challenge for the leadership, he'll challenge for the top
Because the only fresh thing round here is the lettuce and the crop
And on the streets of London town, the coppers form a line
Between the angry marchers who are convinced that they're divine
One lot wants a kingdom, and one lot wants theRight
And everyone is screaming in the fading London light
[Chorus]
It's last orders at the bar, lads, and nobody's buying rounds
We're drowning in the overflow of these forgotten towns
The concrete's getting damp now, and the plaster's turning black
And everyone's a winner till the confidence attack
[Verse 2]
A kid upon an e-bike going far too fast to see
A grandmother on a crossing, a tragedy that shouldn't be
Now he's sitting in a cell at night with time to think it through
While the farmers pay their nineteen grand for damage that they knew
And Vogue is going under, and the staffers weep and cry
For days when they were paid to be preposterous and high
While hundreds queue for Swatch watches at three-three-five a pop
Because the ultimate in status is a plastic watch from Swatch
[Bridge]
[Strings swell dramatically]
[Bass drops out]
In Shanghai, they will pay you if you've got a white man's face
To pretend you're their C.E.O. and bring a touch of grace
It doesn't matter what you know, it only matters what you seem
The world's become a stage set for a unreality dream
[Bass returns, heavier than before]
[Verse 3]
The Thames has got a bathing site for swimmers feeling brave
They'll conquer contamination with a grim and muddy wave
They check the sewage measurements and get into a rage
While teenagers die quietly without the proper age
And somebody has listed out the hundred best novels read
Just so you know you haven't read the books you should have read
It's all a performance, lads, it's all a sorry show
And none of us are leaving till the final trumpets blow
[Chorus]
It's last orders at the bar, lads, and nobody's buying rounds
We're drowning in the overflow of these forgotten towns
The concrete's getting damp now, and the plaster's turning black
And everyone's a winner till the confidence attack
[Outro]
[Guitar echoes into endless delay]
[Strings fade to a single held note]
[Bass rumbles into silence]
Everyone's a winner...
[Spoken] Yeah. Course they are.
[Final rim-shot echoes into nothing]