[Intro] (Check the mic, one-two, one-two) (Is the Speaker of the House in the building?) (Newport's finest in the Westminster basement) (Hold tight the Chief Whip) [Verse 1] I’m in the lobby with a baggie and a ballot box Five-four timing while I’m sniffing on some smelly socks Clause Sixty-Nine of the Statutory Instrument Is looking rather tasty in this government predicament The Member for North Bristol’s got his hand inside the till While the Cabinet is choking on a blue-and-white pill It’s a point of order, Mr. Speaker, if you please I’ve got the shadow chancellor begging on his knees Two Thousand and Twenty-Six, the year of the snort When the public inquiry was remarkably short [Pre-Chorus] (Order! Order! Take your hands off his mace!) (He’s got a powdered nose and a very red face) [Chorus] Oh, the Hansard’s looking messy and the whips are going wild They’ve deregulated everything and then they’ve gone and smiled From the terrace of the Commons to the back of the pub It’s a polyrhythmic pounding in the legislative club With a seven-eight groove and a dirty little secret If you find a brown envelope, you’d better fucking keep it [Verse 2] I’m tapping on the fretboard like a manic little posh boy Using public funding as a personal and dross toy Under Section Forty-Five of the Health and Safety Act The Secretary of State has got a very tight sphincter, fact She’s a virtuoso player on the skin-flute and the strings While the ghost of Harold Wilson sits and watches from the wings The Chief Whip’s in the corner with a gimmp mask and a gavel Watching all the moral fiber start to slowly unravel We’re rapping in Newport, but we’re voting in Mayfair With a scent of cheap hookers and the stench of despair [Bridge] [Guitar Solo] (Complex tapping in thirteen-eight time) (Polyrhythmic percussive hits on the guitar body) (Glitchy electronic vocal chops) [Chorus] Oh, the Hansard’s looking messy and the whips are going wild They’ve deregulated everything and then they’ve gone and smiled From the terrace of the Commons to the back of the pub It’s a polyrhythmic pounding in the legislative club With a five-four groove and a dirty little secret If you find a brown envelope, you’d better fucking keep it [Outro] (Motion carried) (The ayes have it) (Now get the ketamine out of the despatch box) (Safe as fuck, mate) (Totally constitutional) [Fade Out]
