Tag: Please Sir Can I have Some More

  • The Sacred Cow

    The Sacred Cow



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    A public service should be judged by how well it serves the public.
    Not by how loudly we’re expected to worship it.

    The Sacred Cow attacks Britain’s habit of treating the NHS less like a healthcare system and more like a national religion. RebelliousBard rejects the idea that admiration for hardworking doctors and nurses should make the institution itself immune from criticism. Waiting lists, bureaucracy, political priorities and failing access cannot be answered forever with another appeal to sentiment. The public pays for the NHS, depends upon it when something goes wrong, and has every right to ask whether the system they are repeatedly told to cherish is actually delivering for them.

    The Sacred Cow



    ► RebelliousBard • The Sacred Cow • Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? BUY
    FOR THE RECORD

    The NHS Church our national religion
    Clap for carers now clap for the silence

    Sunday sermon on the news again says everything is fine
    Monday morning tells a different truth but they call that just design
    Waitlists shrink on paper charts patients vanish from the board
    Empty rooms look very healthy If you never look at wards
    The congregation keeps on clapping for a system out of breath
    Every miracle’s a statistic every delay a quiet death
    The altar’s built on paperwork the scripture’s made of forms
    And every broken promise gets rebranded as the norm

    We’re told it’s free We’re told it’s fair
    We’re told the truth is somewhere
    Floating safely in the air

    NHS Church bow your head Trust the figures not the bed
    NHS Church say amen hope you’re seen by them someday
    Clap for carers clap for pain Clap while nothing really changes
    NHS Church sacred name While the waiting list rearranges
    NHS Church don’t complain Faith is easier than facing it
    NHS Church hold the line while the system eats its own design

    White coats now the holy robes doctors turned to priests
    Policies like sacred texts while pressure never ceases
    Puberty blockers handed out in trials dressed as care
    A new commandment in the system but no one’s allowed to stare

    Foreign workers fill the rota while locals wait in queues
    They call it managed pressure you call it what you choose
    Free at point of use they chant it like scripture through the halls
    But nothing feels that free when the waiting system stalls
    And every question asked too loudly gets labelled out of line
    So silence becomes tradition and compliance feels divine

    Don’t question the cathedral don’t challenge what you see
    Just trust the growing altar of bureaucracy and plea

    NHS Church bow your head trust the figures not the bed
    NHS Church say amen hope you’re seen by them someday
    Clap for carers clap for pain clap while nothing really changes
    NHS Church sacred name while the waiting list rearranges
    NHS Church don’t complain faith is easier than facing it
    NHS Church hold the line while the system eats its own design

    Don’t tell me this is perfect don’t tell me it’s all right
    Don’t tell me every failure is something out of sight
    We see the empty corridors we see the endless wait
    We see decisions made above us then called complicated state
    You can’t call it untouchable and immune from any blame
    When people suffer quietly inside a broken frame

    NHS Church bow your head trust the figures not the bed
    NHS Church say amen how many wait until the end?
    Clap for carers clap for pain clap while everything collapses
    NHS Church sacred name built on promises and ashes
    NHS Church don’t complain truth gets buried in the branding
    NHS Church hold the line while reality stops landing
    NHS Church bow your head but nobody’s being saved
    NHS Church say amen to a system gone mislaid

    The NHS Church bow your head don’t ask questions just wait your turn

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    The Sacred Cow was not prompted by one NHS scandal. It grew from frustration with the status the institution itself has acquired in British political culture: celebrated, defended and sometimes treated as though questioning its performance amounts to attacking the people who work inside it. The song rejects that emotional sleight of hand. Nurses and doctors can work extraordinarily hard inside a system that is still failing, and gratitude towards them does not settle questions about waiting times, bureaucracy, spending or who the system prioritises. For RebelliousBard, the NHS is not a church and criticism is not heresy. It is a publicly funded healthcare system, and it should be judged by what the public receives from it.


  • Buh-Bye Keir

    Buh-Bye Keir



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    The bags are packed.
    The damage isn’t.

    Buh-Bye Keir is RebelliousBard’s thoroughly unsentimental farewell to Keir Starmer after a premiership that lasted less than two years. Farmers, pensioners, immigration, taxation, two-tier justice and the endless procession of nicknames all get one final outing as the song surveys what RebelliousBard regards as an extraordinarily destructive period of government. There is no gracious send-off and no sudden outbreak of respect for the office. Starmer is leaving; the argument here is that Britain still has to live with what he leaves behind.

    Buh-Bye Keir



    ► RebelliousBard • Buh-Bye Keir • Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? BUY
    FOR THE RECORD

    Oh Keir Starmer… finally packing your bags
    Two years too late, but who’s counting?

    Two Tier Keir, never here when it mattered most
    Captain Hindsight, always late to the post
    Sir Kid Starver, Free Gear Keir in your fancy suit
    Starmer the Farmer Harmer — what an absolute hoot
    Taxed the land, froze out the old, cut the fuel in the cold
    While the boats kept coming and the stories were sold

    You smiled for the cameras, said change is here
    While the country fell apart year after year

    Buh bye Keir, don’t let the door hit your chin
    Two Tier Keir, finally packing it in
    Captain Hindsight with your free gear and spin
    The country’s breathing , now the mess begins
    Buh bye Keir, what a legacy of pain
    Destroyed the farmers, froze out the old again
    Two Tier Keir, never here when we needed you most
    Just another suit selling lies coast to coast

    You promised the world, delivered the knife
    Taxed the inheritance, ended rural life
    Pensioners freezing while the boats sailed in
    Media protected you through thick and thin
    Sir Kid Starver with your moral high ground
    Left kids in danger while the numbers compound
    Free Gear Keir taking whatever he can
    While the rest of us suffered under your plan

    Buh bye Keir, don’t let the door hit your chin

    Two years too late, you finally walked away
    Left the country broken, now you want praise
    But who comes next from this selection of nothing?
    More of the same, just different clothing
    The damage is done, the trust is gone
    We’re breathing again… but the fight’s just begun

    Buh bye Keir, don’t let the door hit your chin
    Two Tier Keir, finally packing it in
    Captain Hindsight with your free gear and spin
    The country’s breathing — now the mess begins
    Buh bye Keir, what a legacy of pain
    Destroyed the farmers, froze out the old again
    Two Tier Keir, never here when we needed you most
    Just another suit selling lies coast to coast

    Buh bye Keir
    Buh bye Keir
    What a legacy
    What comes next?

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    Buh-Bye Keir was written for the end of Keir Starmer’s premiership. After entering Downing Street following Labour’s landslide election victory in July 2024, Starmer announced his resignation in June 2026, less than two years later, following collapsing personal ratings and mounting political pressure. At his lowest point, Ipsos recorded just 13% satisfied with his performance and 79% dissatisfied, the lowest satisfaction rating in its prime-ministerial series dating back to 1977. RebelliousBard had spent much of those two years attacking Starmer’s government, so the resignation was never going to receive a dignified little farewell. This is the closing statement: good riddance to a prime minister RebelliousBard believes left the country worse than he found it, followed immediately by the rather less comforting question of what comes next.


  • Buh-Bye Keir Released

    Buh-Bye Keir Released

    Buh-Bye Keir
    Buh-Bye Keir PROMO
  • Tolerance Is A One Way Street Released

    Tolerance Is A One Way Street Released

    Tolerance Is A One Way Street
  • Tolerance Is a One Way Street

    Tolerance Is a One Way Street



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    Tolerance cannot mean
    one side does all the tolerating.

    Tolerance Is a One-Way Street is RebelliousBard’s rejection of a version of multiculturalism he believes demands endless accommodation from Britain while treating criticism of imported cultures, religions and practices as intolerance in itself. The song moves through knife attacks, religious exemptions, grooming gangs, flags and accusations of racism to make one deliberately uncompromising argument: tolerance that can only ever be demanded from the host society is not mutual tolerance at all.

    Tolerance Is a One Way Street



    ► RebelliousBard • Tolerance Is a One Way Street • Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? BUY
    FOR THE RECORD

    Another day, another headline they try to hide “Community tensions”, yeah, right, they’ve lied
    Knives in the street, tolerance on repeat
    But only one direction. feel the heat

    Another blade in the night, another kid on the ground
    They tell us it’s “enrichment” best not make a sound
    Nowak bleeding out, but the story’s been spun
    Kirpan exemption sacred, till the damage is done

    Last night in Belfast, Stanley knife to the neck
    Sudanese welcome, try to take off a head
    Sikh speakers debating if Nowak’s grave’s for a piss
    While the papers cry “backlash” and give tolerance a kiss

    One-way street of tolerance, bows and bent knees
    Our culture’s “problematic” but theirs? Hands off, please

    Tolerance is a one-way street, mate, don’t you know?
    Celebrate their knives, their courts, their “no-go”
    We fight for our pubs, our flags, our way of life
    And we’re the racists, while the bodies pile high
    Tolerance is a one-way street, see the signs?
    Import the problems, ignore the warning signs

    Grooming gangs rolling, thousands of girls betrayed
    But questioning Sharia? That’s the crime they’ve made
    Burqas in the classroom, Sharia in the shade
    Criticise it softly “Islamophobe” grenade

    Demand we bend over for every faith and rite
    But wave the Union Jack? You’re far-right overnight
    They carve their exceptions, we swallow the cost
    Multicultural utopia, paradise lost

    Tolerance is a one-way street, mate, don’t you know?

    How many more Nowaks, how many Belfast nights?
    Stanley blades swinging under tolerance lights
    One rule for the guests, another for the host
    Britain’s great experiment, who’s paying the most?

    Tolerance is a one-way street, mate, don’t you know?
    Celebrate their knives, their courts, their “no-go”
    We fight for our pubs, our flags, our way of life
    And we’re the racists, while the bodies pile high

    One-way street. one-way street
    Tolerance is a one-way street, mate
    How many more? How many more?
    One-way street. till it all falls down

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    Tolerance Is a One-Way Street followed closely from the events that had already fed into I Don’t Think You Have, Mate. Henry Nowak had been stabbed and, while under arrest, told an officer that he had been stabbed only to receive the now-infamous response that gave the earlier song its title. Within weeks, footage from Belfast showed another horrifying knife attack in which a man appeared to repeatedly slash at another man’s head and neck with a Stanley-style knife. For RebelliousBard, the proximity of the two incidents intensified a much broader frustration already building around immigration, religious and cultural accommodation, grooming gangs and the language used whenever those subjects become uncomfortable. The song asks why tolerance is so often presented as something Britain owes to everybody arriving within it, while expecting reciprocal respect for British culture can itself be condemned as intolerant.


  • I Don’t Think You Have, Mate Released

    I Don’t Think You Have, Mate Released

    I don't Think You have, Mate
    I don’t think you have, mate PROMO
  • I Don’t Think You Have, Mate

    I Don’t Think You Have, Mate



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    What happens when the people asking for protection
    stop believing it will be applied equally?

    I Don’t Think You Have, Mate takes aim at the perception of two-tier policing in Britain, moving through protests, public disorder, speech and violent crime to question whether political sensitivity has begun to influence who receives scrutiny, sympathy and protection. Its title turns one brief exchange into the song’s refrain: a statement of disbelief becoming an accusation about trust in the institutions expected to enforce the law.

    I Don't Think You Have, Mate



    ► RebelliousBard • I Don’t Think You Have, Mate • Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? BUY
    FOR THE RECORD

    Flags in the street, but only the wrong ones get snatched
    Lads on the corner, they turn the other cheek
    While grannies get raided for a mean tweet
    “Community cohesion” that’s the brief

    One side throws bricks, gets a polite chat
    Other side waves a banner, riot van’s on the mat
    Stabbings in the park, but swift only on the chat
    Priorities twisted like a bureaucrat’s knot

    They kneel for the cause when the cameras roll
    But a kid on the ground? Just another patrol

    “I don’t think you have, mate” as the blood hits the floor
    “I’ve been stabbed” , “Nah, you’re fine, settle the score.”
    Handcuffs on the victim while the killer stands tall
    Two-tier justice, watching Britain fall

    “I don’t think you have, mate”, the words that kill
    Protect the narrative, ignore the spill
    From Southport to the streets, the pattern’s clear
    Don’t think you have rights… not if you’re from here

    Nowak on the pavement, bleeding out slow
    Told ’em straight up, but they already know
    Who to believe when the script’s been sold
    Racial abuse claim better safe than bold

    Rudakubana flowers? Nah, the real blooms of grief
    Ignored reports, hushed whispers, no relief
    Grooming gangs whisper while the papers sleep
    But a tweet gone viral? Full SWAT team

    “I don’t think you have, mate” as the blood hits the floor
    “I’ve been stabbed” – “Nah, you’re fine, settle the score.”
    Handcuffs on the victim while the killer stands tall
    Two-tier justice, watching Britain fall

    “I don’t think you have, mate” the words that kill
    Protect the narrative, ignore the spill
    From Southport to the streets, the pattern’s clear
    Don’t think you have rights… not if you’re from here

    One rule for the favoured, one for the rest
    “Far-right” label sticks to your chest
    While the real trouble hides behind the vest
    Of diversity quotas and fear of the press

    How many more Nowaks before they confess?
    The two tiers are cracking under the stress

    “I don’t think you have, mate…”
    “I don’t think you have…”
    Don’t think you have justice today

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    The song was prompted by the case of Henry Nowak. After Nowak said that he had been stabbed while being detained by police, an officer responded, “I don’t think you have, mate.” That exchange became the title and central refrain of the song, and a starting point for its wider anger about policing, institutional judgement and the perception of unequal treatment under the law.