It Wisnae a Party!

Whit dae ye mean, I broke the rules?

I’m telling ye, it’s no f*****g true-

a couple o’ work mates jist having a chat;

ma word is ma proof, it’s simple as that.

‘Resign’, you’re aw shouting, I’m telling ye, ‘naw’,

because I call the shots, just like yer maw.

Post truth is whit matters, I learned that fae Trump,

and he survived four years before getting humped.

I’m no gauing, just accept it fae me-I’m the boss;

as fir these eejits shouting, well I don’t gi a toss.

I’ll be dragged oot screaming, aye I’ll put up a fight

while ma missus strips the walls, and the fancy new lights.

Thank f*** for the Rona, it helped me out-perfect

smokescreen to hide Brexit, nae messing about.

I’m an Eton boy, I deserve all that I have-

the wummin, the favours, getting stuff on the tab,

that’s paid by the mugs trying to buy my favour-

a peerage, an office, or maybe cheap labour.

Cressida, my pal has been really kind, helping

me oot when I’m losing my mind. I don’t know

how she can sort oot this mess, it a big yin-

it’ll put her to the test, show if she’s up to the

job of wiping my arse, keep me safe during this farce,

cos I’m running oot of fridges to hide ma ton of lard.

As fir that b****** Blackford. Hoyes got it right,

throwing him oot, cause he wanted a fight.

A fight for justice and fairness and all that is good;

the crofter was ejected for challenging ma hood.

I’m a bit like Midas, but the other way round;

all I touch turns to shit, heaped on the mound.

And Starmer, well his speech might have won the day-

but I’m no oot yet, I’ll survive come what may.

I’m the man who ‘got Brexit done’; gave ma

pals lots of money to pretend that we’ve won,

that it’s no wan big shithole as my critics suggest-

look, when it comes to lying-I am the BEST.