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