A poetic reflection on the man who’s done more than anyone to set back progress in my home and adopted countries, written post-EU-referendum. More than I would ever actually advocate, but it sure was cathartic to write.
A peaceful, gentle person, I
Don’t often wish a man would die,
But one exception’s this old turd.
Och, vengeful angels, strike down Murdoch,
Smite his red-tops and his bald top,
Overturn the stones he’s crawled
Beneath, then kick him in the teeth.
Pick up a heavy bag of rocks,
And heap them onto Mister Fox.
Jump up and down upon the pile
And hear his bones crack. Pausing, smile
And think of all the lives he’s wrecked,
The countries he’s completely fecked,
Then walk away without a word.
Och, rid the earth of Rupert Murdoch.