“Welcome to your council” reads the dubious sign,
And I had not a clue that the thing was all mine!
Last time that I checked I had three mobile phones,
But surely the council is that woman Jones’?
All part of the game that these people do play,
Once their slick PR gurus have all had their say,
“We’ll tell them it’s theirs” a sharp suit will crow,
“And cunningly soften the huge hammer blow”,
‘Cos when weathermen ooze “And so, here’s your weather…”
You’ll find me quite close to the end of my tether,
The weather, I’m sure, belongs not to me,
And that fact can’t be changed by a man on TV,
“IT’S BLOODY NOT MINE”! I shout “ISN’T THAT CLEAR”?
But the marketing types, well, they don’t want to hear,
I certainly, definitely, am not the proud owner,
Sorry for sounding like such an old moaner,
“The” is the word that you are looking for,
Yes, that is the one, I’m really quite sure,
“Welcome to the council”, yes that’s so much better,
As is “Here is the weather, it’s going to get wetter”,
I’m refuting all ownership, which I think is quite fair,
Unlike what you’re doing to adult social care,
And I won’t be used as your rancid excuse,
For letting down victims of domestic abuse,
I’ve read all the spiel about your “hard choices”,
And noted the tone of your disdainful voices,
I’ve heard how it’s difficult being in power,
From the one who chose red for the Spinnaker Tower,
Now come along all, please at least have the guts,
To admit that they’re really and truly YOUR cuts.