In the Land of the Rising Scum

I’ve torched a shop in Croydon Town,
Its trading days are done,
Its flames have set the sky alight
And I’m famous in The Sun.

So don’t call me a failure,
Admire my nicked blue jeans,
My iPads, phones and trainers, Man,
And five new plasma screens.

The only thing a looter needs
Is a mask and i-ron bar
To smash to bleeding smithereens
That effing Po-lice car.

So ‘facebook’ tell the children,
To do what I have done
And hurl a home-made petrol bomb
In the land of the Rising Scum.

So I’ve one foot in a Nike
And one in Jimmy Choo
I’m going back to Tottenham now
To steal some gear for you.

I’ve smashed and grabbed and stole more jeans,
(Worn low, they show my bum)
And my picture’s on the TV now
And the front page of The Sun.

The swivel eyed, snaggle toothed, progenitor of an altogether superior brood of Smudletts. An uncommon wit that fails to grace these pages often enough.