They fuck you up, your mum and dad,
But not as much as Tories do,
Who lie about high jinks they had,
And break the rules they place on you.
A party? Held at Downing Street?
They can’t remember when or where,
With wine to drink and food to eat,
And journos from the Sun were there —
The treachery of this foul clan
Goes deeper than the Spanish Main.
Kick the sods out, soon as you can,
And never vote for them again.
(Sandra Bond, After Philip Larkin)
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