Pointing and laughing

UKIP live in a world of playground politics - ganging up, pointing and name-calling - so I decided to wade in and do the same, but I hope more humorously. UKIP - mock them hard, then mock them some more. And there's a nod to one of my favourite poems. A recorded version can be found here.

Naming of prats

You portray playground politics,
all name-calling, throwing sticks
and stones
at easy targets,
rich kids more than old enough to know better
getting off on being dinner-money bullies,
good training for creepy little wankers
who grow up to be bankers
and bigots,
en masse victim-pickers.
Well, I can play that game –
no, not bludgeons today
but getting murky with words
and messing with your name,
‘cos I’ve spoken to one of your
old-school classmates,
not a friend, you don’t have them,
and he was more than happy to get low-brow,
said you were a twat then and a twat now,
a direct quotation,
first hand, no edit, unabridged
from someone who knew you
as Nigel Farage
‘til you were fourteen or so
and decided everyone should know
you as Farage.
What an arse.
Since then, 35 years of verbal discharge,
so it’s time we voted you in a new label,
a monicker more fitting,
I’ve got a few options to put on the table
so we’re able to pick what’s best
to rebrand a kipper,
a prejudicial pest
with an overactive bile duct,
sucked up to
by Nazis in carpet-slippers –
let’s see how well you stand, plucked
tarred and shamed,
named like a 70s krautrock band,
a poorly translated takeaway
or a disturbingly alternative stripper,

for today we have naming of prats.

Negro Farrago, Nudger Phalange,
Niggardly Fridge, Nougat le Flange,
Nigerian Farmyard, Numbskull Fubar,
Nasally Fidget, Knee-jerk Fucktard.
Nein-schnell Faux-fuhrer, None-shall Fear-race,
No-naff-all Frau-urge, Own-goal Frog-rage,
Nacho el Fart-arse, Nutjob Forecast,
Knickers-from-France, Unnatural Farce.
Nautch-girl Far-ugly, Nodule-of-Lard,
Schnitzel Most-flaccid, Knuckled Visage,
Nile-edge Farooq, No-go the Hajj,
Nazgul Vajazzle, Nine-hells Fromage.
Nach Eine-pfennig, Nickel For-forage,
Unchilled Flaneur, Nastier Frottage,
Nightgown Foul-fudge, Night-soiled Finger,
Nincompoop Large, Niggly Frigger.

Though I like ‘nazgul vajazzle’,
I figure
the last one suits
a purple-badged fruit-loop –
I want to niggle you with it,
jiggle it about
and watch as you wriggle.

Niggly Frigger NiggleNiggleNiggleNiggleNiggle
Niggly Frigger NiggleNiggleNiggleNiggleNiggle

Niggly Frigger, you’re right there’s something rotten
in the UK, but you’re wrong on what’s the problem,
it’s your bat-shit gang of National Front-bottoms,
but it won’t be long ‘til you’re gone and forgotten
by everyone, from Timbuktu to Totton
and their pets, all watching you lose the plot on
sex, race and climate – it seems you’re not too hot on

science, rationality or reason,
have you got some sort of cerebral lesion,
foaming at the mouth like you’ve swallowed caesium
you try to censor the world, treat evidence like treason
when it doesn’t suit, though you must have a lot on
your plate, so much to hate, when you’re not on
this planet, not a party, just a virulent blot on
our political landscape, a bigotry dot.com
bubble that’ll burst like a pus-filled spot on
some spoiled brat’s chin, dripping your ill-gotten
votes, grabbed by fear-mongering any old clot on

the electoral list,
hunched over Maggie’s grave with an aching wrist,
every day another gaffe piling up the grist
for my satirical mill, from the ramblings of your pissed
youth wing (one zitty little twit who’s never been kissed)
to your life-long loathers in their white-tinged mist,
who need knocking down with a lyrical fist
and mockery, make sure they’re thoroughly dissed
online, on our doorsteps, wherever they exist,
you cite freedom-of-speech so listen to this –
the public is awake, not somnambulists,
you’re rumbled, done, nowt more than a twist-
ed bucketful of isms, no libertarianists,
getting a ballot-box order to cease and desist.

You get the gist?