Childish songs for tomorrow night?

Sing when yir spying! You only sing, when yir spying.

You can stick your Perestroika up yer arse!

Vodka is a poof’s drink, vodka is a poof’s drink, nanananah!

You’re going home, in a Lada Riva!

Trainspotting bastards! Yir only trainspotting bastards!

In yir Glasnost slums…

The less self-explanatory ones;

Sharapova is a slapper, Sharapova is a tart
And when she’s shagging Roddick, she thinks of Micheal Hart.

My personal favourite;
We all agree, the capitalist mode of production which establishes the conditions that enable the bourgeoisie to exploit the proletariat due to the fact that the worker’s labour power generates an added value greater than the worker’s salary, is magic.

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