When The TV Debates Are Over..


A gloomy ode of death and despair, for the politically dispossessed and zombie lovers everywhere..

Hear it here! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uikzoGYT3Gs&feature=youtu.b

The TV debates are over
And the battle lines are drawn
Nothing now can save us
‘Cept a Zombie fucking Dawn

It’s a choice of catastrophes
David, Nigel, Nick or Ed?
I’d rather take my chances
With the Walking fucking Dead

Psychopathic, soulless, single-minded
Monsters on a mission
That’s not the zombies, by the way
That’s just your average politician.

The situation’s desperate
So between now and May 15
I’m hoping for a venomous strain
Of something really mean

Decimation linked to climate change
A techno-virus, spread by hacking
Toxic debris from outer space
Or something foul unleashed by fracking

A genetic experiment gone disastrously wrong
Involving mutant rabid mice
To make Ebola seem like an outbreak
Of Kindergarten lice

Whatever the catalyst is, we need
Zombiegeddon to start soonish
Cos I cannot bear to see another MP’s mug
All smug and goonish

Yes, they fought off Scottish Independence
And they ain’t afraid of ISIS
But re-animated corpses?
Well, that’s a different kind of crisis

”We will get the economy back on track ”
But as they try to explain
They’re drowned out by the sounds of thousands
Munching on fresh brains

”We’ll deal with immigration”
Forget it, no -one’s listening
They’re busy stocking food-banks full of entrails
Wet, succulent and glistening

Meanwhile on Question Time
A Mansion Tax debate turns sparky
When Tessa Jowell and Diane Abbot
Start tearing lumps off David Starkey

The usually cool D. Dimbleby
Is looking a little thrown
He asks the audience for their questions
And they just dribble green puss, and moan

Now, the only way the country
Will be lurching to the left or right
Is when they’re walking like a zombie
So beware, Election Night

Though the turn-out tends to be quite low
When, nipping out to vote
Involves the fairly heavy possibility
Of some Thing ripping out your throat

And they will not discriminate
Ukip, Labour, Lib-Dem,or Tory
When you see that evil, bloodshot stare
Better prepare for something gory

All you undecided voters
It really doesn’t matter
When your ballot paper’s spoiled
By a sudden violent splatter

And if I, myself fall victim
I won’t fight or scream and bawl
I’lI just rise again, then go in search
Of the choicest prey of all

Ahh, Mr Farage, how are you?
It will be my great delight
To rip him in clean in two, and say
How’s that for splitting the centre right?

Miliband’s tiny shrivelled balls will do
If you’re wanting some quick nibbles
But you’ll need at least a week, to start and finish
Eric Pickles

I’ll say grace before chomping down on Clegg
Actually, better make that ‘Dis-grace’
He’s high in cholesterol, is our Nick
With all that egg on his face

Iain Duncan Smith, he’s mine
Though i’m sure i’ll retch with every chew
Those supercillious, turd-like features
Enough to make a festering zombie spew

And when I corner Cameron
His eyes will, with fear, be stricken
I bet, with all that Nandos
He tastes of fuckin chicken

We have had enough of all of them
Their lies and piles of bull
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel full

Billions for the NHS? Too late
And scrapping the Bedroom Tax won’t help
Their false promises are pointless now
No matter how they bargain, plead and yelp

I know you’re thinking, ‘How absurd
A Zombie Apocalype? Come off it
Go tell it to the Tesco bosses, mate
They love a dodgy prophet..’

But it will come to pass, you mark my words
So shall it be, as it is written
Yellow and black hazard tape on every street
And the sign: ‘Welcome to Great Bitten’

A once proud isle, diseased and vile
Where the undead shuffle around, oblivious
But 5 years of Dave, Nigel, Nick or Ed
Is a prospect equally as hideous

Yes, the TV debates are over
And the battle lines are drawn
Nothing now can save us
‘Cept a Zombie fucking Dawn.


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