Our thoughts are plump, our morals fat,
Our policies are gluttons:
Our party’s bloated as a rat,
We’ve lost our tummy buttons –
Britain’s what we’ve laid to waste.
We’ve lost all sense of scent or taste.
Pot bellies calling kettles black,
Cascades of useless flabber –
Our eyes are piggy, stomachs slack.
We’re one collective Jabba.
Our tastebuds, which are slick with grease,
Are useless, as we are obese.
The country has gone belly up,
We talk in endless porkers –
We wobble like a jelly cup,
Our grunts are gross and raucous.
Discriminate? Our tongues are furred.
We’re tubby, we’re the Tory herd.