I’ve been your MP for many a year
And I spent all your money, took every due care
But please re-elect me, now I’ve paid back some loot
I managed to fiddle before this dispute.
Chorus
And it’s yeah, yeah, ever
Yeah, yeah, ever, more, more
For I’m your hog member
Your honourable whore.
I’ll tell you my tale if you’re willing to hear
I was born to find claret, malt whiskey – not beer
Like those commoners drink in their houses so small,
I’ve always believed I had a much higher call.
I served on the Council, but the perks were quite thin
Then my whelk stall went bankrupt, and my wife hit the gin.
I felt hopeless and angry, and vented my spleen
Then my party said ‘this man is hungry and mean’.
In the hustings I beat the do-gooding has-beens
And was chosen to echo my party’s machine
With my no–nonsense sound bites ‘bout Europe and cuts
Plus some local concerns about unmarried sluts.
My income as MP is a mere 70k
But with claims for expenses, I can double my pay
A second home in London and a flat by the sea
All mortgages paid for by a kind Treasury.
A larger home beckoned the fatter I grew
As did my status – t’was only my due.
So I switched my main residence round every year –
To suggest this was greedy is really a smear.
It’s a family business, when all’s said and done
So I claim for my wife as well as my son.
She is my secretary, he drives the car
When he’s not running his London wine bar.
I soon reached the limit of all I could claim
But at the start of the tax year, re-submitted again.
My duck house was sinking, it would no longer float
So I claimed for a new one, fixed the leak in the moat.
Three plasma screen tellies, five i-pods and more
Plus a new granny flat and a new ballroom floor;
I don’t think you realise how long it takes me
To claim these expenses, but I hope you now see.
So now I’ve been candid, I’ve held nothing back
I feel hurt and betrayed to be put on this rack.
It’s all about Britain – it’s not about me – – – –
So please re-elect me as your local MP.