December 18, 2017


The real costs of NHS contracting out -

Sunday, November 26, 2017

The Magic Money Tree -

Saturday, November 4, 2017

The Housing Wonderland by Ian Lewis -

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Will STPs finally wreck the NHS? -

Sunday, June 18, 2017

STPs – A new way to wreck the NHS -

Friday, February 17, 2017

Austerity Blues

Austerity Blues

Whatever the weather,
Like birds of a feather,
We’re all in it together,
Austerity blues.

The Tories claim,
That their aim,
Is to aid,
The low paid,
Hard working brigade,
But the facts,
Are zero hours contracts,
Are just a variation,
Of casualisation,
Available for all,
Wait for a call,
At home,
Austerity blues.

No job,
No home,
Without a crust,
Your life,
Crumbling to dust,
Cupboard bare,
Government don’t care,
Give thanks,
For food banks,
Long queues,
Time to muse,
Austerity blues.

If you’re disabled,
And the quack,
Says back,
To work,
Don’t go berserk,
But don’t reveal,
The pain,
Remain sane,
Don’t cry,
Don’t die,
Austerity blues.

Under the cosh,
No dosh,
Dreaming off,
Tasty nosh,
Smooth booze,
New shoes,
Good news,
A world cruise,
Austerity blues.

Political louses,
Flogged off,
Council houses,
Politicians don’t,
Give a toss,
For the loss,
To the community,
They act,
With impunity,
As they have,
Political immunity,
Austerity blues

We’re skint,
Says Osborne,
Without a hint,
Of irony,
But for arms,
And wars,
There’s a stash,
Of cash,
In a flash,
Austerity blues,

The Government’s lax,
In collecting tax,
And lets teams,
Of bean counters,
Devise schemes,
For people of means,
Who pay less,
Than their just dues,
Austerity blues.

Whatever the weather,
Like birds of a feather,
We’re all in it together,
Are we fuck,
Austerity blues.


The Pencil Test


Sportsman and entertainers,

Opened their hands,

Closed their eyes,

And took Krugerrands.


Under apartheid,

There was black,

And white and,

14 types of coloured,

And, to be seen,

To be correct,

The authorities

Could the 14 reject,

And a fifteenth,


Like Mendel,

And his peas,

Recessive genes,

Caused the sight

Of the sleight,

Change of colour,

In children,

No longer white.



The authorities,

Couldn’t be sure,

If a child was pure,

So inspectors went,

Into the schools,

Followed the rules,

And with great care,

Placed a pencil in the hair,

And a child’s colour,

Would rest,

On the pencil test.


When the head was shook,

There was a look,

Of relief,

Physical and mental,

When the pencil,

Fell to the floor,

The child was white,


If the hair was crinkly,

And thick,

The pencil was passed,

Like a stick

Through the hair,

From front to back,

And if the pencil stalled,

The verdict called,

Was black,


What colour the parents,

Were hardly mattered,

The child was reclassified,

The family scattered,

To a new area,

To search,

A new school,

A new church,

And also there were,

Kids left,

Alone and bereft.


Political apartheid has ended,

But South Africa’s,

Not mended,

For black, coloured & white

Still live apart,

So a new start,

Is needed,

Too remove the pain,

And finally end,

Apartheid’s reign.


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