TOWARDS A NEW ROYALTY

UNCLE SAM'S POET LAUREATE UNVEILS  NEW PROTEST SONG FOR PRESIDENT OBIE.

Well, Bradley Manning is a traitor and a dirty little queer,

He sold out all his valiant comrades, shoulda got a hundred years,

So let's rally round the flag, y'all, support the president,

Although all them times he said that Yes, we can, it wasn't exactly what he meant.

No,we cain't's, the true reality

No, we cain't's, the bottom line

But I'll scratch yo' back, Mistah President,

Just as long as you'll scratch mine.

all rights reserved, copyright enforced at gunpoint by  sameoldsong/GlobaCorp Infotainment

This excerpt is  from Maestro Bob Dylan's eagerly awaited Traitor Blues,  Bob's take on the torture and imprisonment  of  whistleblower, pfc Bradley Manning.  Bob, famous for his contempt for politicians, corporate greed,  warmongering and all that shit is seen here grovelling before warmonger and Wall Street stooge, Barack Obomba.  Traitor Blues is a track from Bob's eagerly awaited new album, More Songs From Plagiarism's Chilly Graveside,  in which America's Voice of Freedom pimps-up and resprays another collection of old blues and country-swing standards and sticks his name and copyright on them.

Busted flush, President Obie, for his part, spends more time on holiday, playing golf - such a white dude's game - than did even President George Dubya Chimp and when he's not doodlin' down the fairway,  Obie and 'Chelle,  Mrs Obie - is she gonna run with Hillary Trousers, as VeePee candidate, next time?  Imagine that quartet, robbing the nation from the White House,  for another eight years, maybe sixteen, in one form or another, maybe forever, if we include the dunderhead moron, Chelsea Clinton, who, after a spell on Wall Street is now, in her own arsespeech, " denominating her contribution in terms of public service"; imagine Spunky Bill as First Gennulman and Obie fetching the tea for everyone - when he's not golfing, anyway, or drawing imaginary red lines, Obie and 'Chelle just love having showbiz nights at the Kennedy Centre For The Performing Arts, pinning medals on every clapped-out, old slag in the business,  Paul Macca, Chuck Berry, James Taylor,  Bob Dylan;  they love that medals and ribbon shit, the yanks, like they never fought a war of independence;  'sa wonder the Obies haven't made Prince Gormless's brat an honorary American.

Time magazine, which keeps sending me a free subscription, claims that the UK is once more wholly and unshakeably monarchist,  moreso than ever in history, that the royal impregnation of a commoner - Princess Gormless - has once and for all  democratised our sweet home, Ruritania.  The hamburgeristas at Time feel, apparently, that the mad, groundless, royalist fancies of rancid, brain-diseased fuckpigs like the BBC's royal cocksucker pursuivant, Nicholas Knobcheese, 

And I can exclusively report that licking the Royal arsehole is bad for one's health....it's the little hard bits which one swallows.....one is so reluctant to spit them out.......what with them being Royal.....shit, I know, but Royal shit.

actually represent the reasoned views of UK subjects, on payday loans, drawing from food banks or being fucked-over on zero-hours contracts;  the impertinence of  journalism  knows no bounds.  God save the Queen, the President, the House of Saud and all the stars of showbiz who work so hard to entertain us. Only not Mr Rolf Harris, of course, who was never really a national treasure, no, no he wasn't. The Queen just gives gongs to any old fucking pervert, doesn't mean a thing.