Benefits Street

On Benefits Street it’s freak show time,

Observe and salivate

As indolence, drugs and petty crime

Besmirch the Welfare State!

We don’t cover those who scrimp and save

And play it by the rules;

It’s glittering BAFTAs that we crave,

D’you think we’re bloody fools?

No mention for working poor who earn

A pittance answering phones;

You only make headlines if you learn

To piss off Owen Jones.

Our cameras shun disabled folk

Beneath the ATOS heel;

We’d rather see Twitter up in smoke,

And hear the lynch mobs squeal.

So caricatures we’ve put on screen,

Condemned by their own lips

As feckless, corrupt, weak-willed, unclean,

With great shoplifting tips.

“Community spirit” we profess

As central to our tale;

Our cast even boasts a shared address

When they’re hauled off to jail.

Though poverty comes in many forms,

It’s sexier on TV

To indicate that the welfare norm’s

Dysfunctionality.

When residents whine to Channel Four,

Our answer’s short and sweet:

Collateral damage we abhor,

But our CVs look neat!

On Benefits Street they’re well pissed off,

But we’re cool with the flak,

Protected by rules that let you scoff

At those who can’t hit back.