I’ve got a nice idea said she/he.
You’ve got a nice idea? Said he/she.
Let’s run the heath service down,
and run down social care,
and preventative medicine;
and wait for a pandemic,
kill off all the sick,
the pensioner’s burden,
the weak kids’ schooling,
the smokers future burden,
the football fans clapping,
the pop concert hyenas,
the cosmetic arenas,
the hyper-store minions.
Kill off the nanby pamby doctors,
and those nursey things, and
all the clingon students and their
lefty lecturers lecturing on about
the core viral subjects;
and we’ll make Britain great again.
All the super fit workers
working to make Britain great again.
No need for any tax,
no need for police,
we’ll all be too rich to commit crime;
too fit to need hospitals or
No need for armies because
we’ll have loads of Danegeld.
We’ll all be rich, rich, rich!
Great plan said he/she/she/he
Then someone said ‘what about the...’
But she/he/he/she were not listening,
they were in the bunker taking their antivirals.
But what a great plan it is,
and well on its well on its way to completion.
What can possibly go wrong?