Nothing ever happens

From The Friday Thing‘s Review of the Year:

Post office clerks put up signs saying position closed

And journalists turn on typewriters and sex up their quotes

And ministers padlock the gates

On national security grounds

And protestors powder our parliament floors

While some other ones dress up as Batman

And it’ll still be Tony tonight or Gordon tomorrow

Gentlemen time please, you know we can’t serve anymore

But your binge drinking needs will be well catered for by casinos that open ’til four

While in Fallujah everyone’s dead

And every third car is a bomb

But ignorant people still sleep in their beds

Until I’m a Celebrity’s back on

And nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all

Blunkett will bounce back sometime in the spring

And we’ll all sing along like before

And there’ll still be Tony tonight or Gordon tomorrow.


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