Barry Smith

Strictly X-factor: The Return of Dirty Den

Is that you, Dirty? Can that be you
Up to your old ways and dirty tricks
Shiftily loping out of Walworth
With a sack of swag to flog in the streets?

And have you been out in the green belt
In your wax jacket and designer wellies
Weighing up stacks of designer specs
For quick-build housing and village retail parks?

And do we want a lorry load of lumber,
Beech and oak, hazel and ash firewood logs
Freshly cut from newly privatised,
Hedge-fund managed, ex-national forestland?

Oh, that’s never you, is it Dirty,
Sneaking round the corner with an armful
Of kiddies’ books whisked from gaping shelves
Loitering outside the old library?

And have you taken up lawyers’ work
With that bulging briefcase of welfare cuts
Sliced from housing and child benefit,
Legal aid, the playgroup and the arts?

And are you togged-up for a country supper
Or cruising the Med on Rupert’s new yacht,
Glad-handing brown envelopes with the Met
Or hacking blackberries with lots of love?

Is that you, Dirty? Is that really you
Leaving behind a trail of broken hearts,
Broken homes and broken hospitals,
Broken schools, broken cities and lives?

Is that smiling, jack-the-lad charming,
Nattily dressed, niftily shod, oh so
Plausible bloke-next-door wielding that axe?
Is that you, Dirty? Is that you?

Barry Smith © 2012