The 3 Bs

The 3 Bs
It's a case of the 3 Bs
And everything else that sets us apart
You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth

Or was it jammed up your arse?
By upper middle class parents

Part of the ruling elite who run things
The 2 percent who think they're better
Not mixing with the likes of us
Except when they want our vote

Myself I'm not really bothered about you
Those toffs and Ruperts who live on the moon
You are no relation to me

Except when campaigning for your party
Telling the same old lies a different way

I’ve more in common with an alien

Do I blame the Old Boy's Club?
With their secret handshakes and sayings?
Each one a Mason and secret initiate

Been to the top Unis but mostly Oxbridge men
With a few girls now for Political Correctness
What a load of codswallop!
I think it's down to the 3 Bs 
And all it contains

Plums in your mouth
Opposite end of the spectrum
As bad as a chav in your Saville Row suit
Tell me is your son like you?

An upper middle class nonce
A graduate with no job
Working in a bakery putting cherries on cakes!
What a fucking nob!
Us working class ridicule and loath you

Detest all you stand for
The Blair's, Cameron's and May's
When in power you only look after number one
Doing cuts on welfare and benefits

Not caring on those in poverty or the poor
Blind to those who are sanctioned
Ignoring mental health statistics
Oblivious of suicide figures
I know one thing:

I'm 10s the man you are
Why?
Because I'm not ruled by the 3 Bs:
Beating, buggery and bad manners

This poem is for you

And the toff who said my writing is crap

You’re all rather daft!