My son, apple of my scheming eyes/ I have so many dreams for you/ I see you gather a rabid crowd/ From a golden stage, shouting loud/ And burning then a bus or two
You know, it is not easy is politics/ You’ll stumble, sometimes you’ll fail/ Often there will be nothing coming/ From a 3G Spectrum sale/ But always keep this in mind/ We might be like pigs in sties/ But we get to increase FSIs/ And as a humble party member/ We get to screw so many lives/ For every road that comes to be/ We get to sell a footpath free/ Once we sit in standing committees/ We can treble the asking price
My son, apple of my scheming eyes/ I see you proud in Parliament/ Slyly ignoring the quorum bell/ And when the whip gives the signal/ The first to go down the well/ But if ever you lose an election/ Remember this father’s final advice/ We are politicians, we never say die/ Next time, double the votes you buy
Loser wakes up early morning to find a note by his side where his wife should be. She’s quit on him. Note says she can’t live with someone who has got the sack. The bell rings. Loser jumps out of bed, opens the door, but, no, it’s not her. There’s a newspaper there where his wife should be. He looks at page 1 and two items get his attention. There’s a provident fund scam and there’s a stock market scam. Loser’s got all his money in stocks. Loser’s got PF coming after the sack. So Loser’s now wifeless and bankrupt. He goes inside, drinks a bottle of vinegar, tops it with phenyl and blanks out. Loser wakes up in hospital with a hospital bill he can’t pay and the cops have a case of attempted suicide against him. The cops come for him but the hospital won’t let him go. As he lies on his bed, he hears faint discordant notes of an argument outside. They are quarreling over him. Loser smiles. He feels wanted again. He is happy.