The Dirty Laundry

This dirt cannot be laundered
This speck cannot be dislodged
No bleach remove this grime
That falls down from up above

A large machine won't do it
Dry Cleaning will be in vain
The patina of corruption
Will never unstain

Throw them in the bin marked 'soiled'
or 'whites mixed up with whites turned grey'
Or the bin marked, 'Truth of things hidden,
Made plain in the light of day'.

Everything is rotten now
The Dirty Laundry will not be closed
Nothing will ever be clean again
The wrong kind of grit now sullies England's Rose

To those who listen clearly
Beyond what high-class accents mean
You will hear in Cameron's tones
The muffled sound of dirty pebbles rattling round
An even dirtier machine