British Council

You wear your master’s

Pin striped tie,

You talk about beauty

But you’re really a spy.

You try to go to bed with culture

But you prematurely stain its future.

You flap the flag of civilization,

You provoke one to indignation;

With your social inclusion and your haw-haw curtsy,

With your noble improvement of the dim and the dirty.

Your colonial past’s swept under the lino.

You’ve had your blast; you’ve decked your rhino.

You’ve packed antennae into stones,

You were made a Dame for giving the dog a bone

If you came across a work of art

It would make you wince and smart

You got your knickers up a crack

And everyone knows

You’re full of lack

That’s not cinema which you’ve sponsored

Tax-leeched guts of bloody heroes

You my father

Which some suit betrayed unto

To blather on about some specious crap

Which really proves there’s a massive gap

Between a human being and a diplomat 

How fucking stupid stupid is that

You’re Lord n Lady Muck and Toff

British council, 

British council, 

British council; 

Fuck off.

Moscow - July 28th, 2012. 

The refrain alludes to a Punk song called 'Colchester Council'