Poetry corner: Britain, you’re a twat

Millions buy the Daily Mail.
Pupils and teachers are set up to fail.
The entire country is up for sale.
Britain, you’re a twat.

Our football teams rarely win.
A thatched fucking loaf is going to get in.
And while it would be worse but for gin,
Britain, you’re a twat.

The Sun is sold around the land,
Which is probably enough to have us all damned.
Then there’s that fucking England band.
Britain, you’re a twat.

The government has become a dud.
The opposition just want each other’s blood.
They’re making the bloody Lib Dems look good!
Britain, you’re a twat.

The Leave campaign played us all for fools.
Both campaigns were run by tools.
The bones are picked over by neo-con ghouls.
Britain, stop being a twat.

No-one knows what the frig to do.
The rise of the far-right will be hard to undo.
Oh, to go back a week or two
When Britain was less of a twat.

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