Oh, Westminster, you bloated beast of blunder,
A year of Labour’s reign, a fiscal flounder!
Reeves wept, then whacked us with a taxman’s whip,
Forty billion snatched—our wallets took a trip!
The pound’s a joke, the markets choke and sway,
While Starmer’s promises just fade to gray.

Missteps galore, like boats still crossing free,
Borders breached while leaders sip their tea.
The Online Act muzzles every cheeky tweet,
Censors lurk where once our voices beat—
A social straitjacket, tight and absurd,
Free speech? Nah, it’s drowned in jargon slurred!

From grace they fell, a landslide turned to mud,
Voters grumble, “Where’s the common good?”
Inflation bites, the high street’s ghost town grim,
Debt piles high—whose fault but them, not him?
The public scoffs, “A curse on this charade!”
X rants ignite where trust has long decayed.

So here’s to you, oh cursed Westminster crew,
Your policies a circus, your wisdom askew!
With every tax and gag, you fuel our jest,
A nation laughs at your chaotic quest—
Raise a glass to mock your grand disgrace,
The curse lives on, a satire’s bold embrace!