Satiric poem on British Blairites by Attila the Stockbroker

This British poetry video says about itself:

14 January 2009

Attila the Stockbroker performs Russians in the DHSS, Asylum Seeking Daleks and Attila The Stockbroker Cleans Up the City live at the Cherry Red Records 30th Anniversary Party at Dingwalls London.

The text of the first poem, from 1983, Russians in the DHSS, is:


It first was a rumour dismissed as a lie
But then came the evidence none could deny:
A double page spread in the Sunday Express
The Russians are running the DHSS!

The scroungers and misfits have done it at last
The die of destruction is finally cast
The glue-sniffing Trotskyists’ final excess:
The Russians are running the DHSS!

It must be the truth ‘cos it’s there in the news
A plot by the Kremlin, financed by the Jews
And set up by Scargill, has met with success –
The Russians are running the DHSS!

So go down to your Jobcentre – I bet you’ll see
Albanian students get handouts for free
And drug-crazed punk rockers cavort and caress
In the interview booths in the DHSS…

They go to Majorca on taxpayers’ money
Hey, you there, stop laughing –I don’t think it’s funny
And scroungers and tramps eat smoked salmon and cress
Now the Russians are running the DHSS!

We’ll catch that rat Scargill with our red rat catcher
We’ll send him to dinner with Margaret Thatcher
And we’ll make him stay there until he’ll confess
That he put the Reds in the DHSS!

Then we’ll hang ‘em and flog ‘em and hang ‘em again
And hang ‘em and flog ‘em and more of the same
We’ll GAS all the dole queues and clear up the mess:
Get rid of the Reds – AND the DHSS!

By British poet Attila the Stockbroker:

An end to tribalism – and dead Russians at the helm

Saturday 10th September 2016

Attila’s rushed off his feet with rallies in support of Jeremy Corbyn

BURSTON School Strike Rally last Sunday was a different and special gig.

Hundreds of us packed onto a little village green near Diss in the wilds of Norfolk on a more or less sunny Sunday afternoon, commemorating and celebrating the brave stand of a community who set up their own school after local radical teachers were sacked by the squirearchy a century ago.

It’s an obvious fact that most of our political gatherings take place in towns and cities and, Tolpuddle apart, the countryside’s contribution to our radical history tends to get overlooked.

Wandering round the little school at Burston I learned a lot. An inspiring day, with a storming speech from Jeremy Corbyn, a brilliant set from Steve White and the Protest Family, another from Banner Theatre — and, yes, I had a great time on stage as well.

In a far more real sense than Cameron could ever imagine, these days we are all in this together and our rallies and campaigns prove it. One of Jeremy’s greatest achievements is giving the notoriously squabble-and-split-prone British left a common sense of purpose.

The Judean People’s Front and the People’s Front of Judea are well and truly cohabiting — and the Popular People’s Front are cuddling up as well.

Good to see and it has to go further — part of our new thinking has to be an end to all kinds of political tribalism.

I totally support Clive Lewis MP’s idea of a progressive alliance across the left so that there is only one candidate against the Tories in each constituency. Given our ludicrous electoral system it’s the way to get them out — I want to get rid of them by any means necessary.

And, controversially maybe, I think that if the Liberal Democrats ever want anyone to think of them as anything else than a bunch of abject Tory collaborators, they need to be in there too. Once Jeremy has won we must reach out, build bridges and do whatever it takes to win power!

Our Keep Corbyn election tour, featuring a host of radical performers, is now in full swing and continues until the leadership election is over — full details are at

Last Monday we absolutely rocked Cardiff, despite a clash with the Wales v Moldova [football] fixture, this Sunday we’re in Manchester and next Tuesday at the Dome in my home town of Brighton.

I’ll tell you how much I support Jeremy. Mark Serwotka of the PCS was supposed to be hosting the gig but he’s in hospital — a big get well soon to a very nice bloke and committed socialist — so I have agreed to compere the gig.

This means that for the first time in my adult life I’ll be in Brighton when the Seagulls are playing and not at the match. Apart from for my wife Robina, of course, greater love hath no man than this.

I’ll finish with an updated rewrite of one of my earliest poems as Attila, now as then taking the piss out of the reactionary garbage spewed out by the right-wing press.

Twenty-four years ago it was called Russians in the DHSS. Now it’s called…

Trot Zombie Takeover Apocalypse!

It first was a rumour dismissed as a lie
But then came the evidence none could deny…
Tom Watson revealed it on the BBC —
Dead Russians are running the Labour Party!

The plotters and entrists have done it at last
The die of destruction is finally cast…
We don’t think for ourselves, we’re controlled by TROTSKY!
Dead Russians are running the Labour Party!

He seems quite unfazed by the fact that he’s dead
With an ice pick stuck jauntily into his head

He says “Leon the Zombie supports Jeremy…”
Dead Russians are running the Labour Party!

It must be the truth ’cos it’s there in the news:
Despite being Jewish, he tells us “Hate Jews
And throw bricks through windows.”
Oh no! Woe is me! Dead Russians are running the Labour Party!

With his crap goatee beard and his poncy pince-nez
He tells thousands of young Corbyn fans “You obey
My Transitional Programme, or you’ll get no tea…”
Dead Russians are running the Labour Party!

But Jeremy’s got a coalition that’s broad.
Does the media not know we’ve got STALIN on board?
And there’s old Ra Ra Rasputin too, so that’s three
Dead Russians a-running the Labour Party!

An end to this madness! Please, Owen Smith now!
Oh give me blue suit, give me serious brow!
Give me same old same old, and a nice cup of tea…
Dead Russians are running the Labour Party!


12 thoughts on “Satiric poem on British Blairites by Attila the Stockbroker

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