It really wants to make me grieve
When I ponder the collapse of what in Britain is known as Auntie or the Beeb.
The British Broadcasting Corporation that is to say,
that has very clearly lost its way.
There was a time when someone with what I said did not agree,
I would silence my critic by affirming “But I heard it on the BBC”.
Now no longer can I make that claim
and no-one on me can put the blame.
What used to be known as quality television
has become an object of derision.
It seems that little can be done it to save
while Alvar Lidell spins in his grave.
One show has their most famous chef
starts every second word with the letter “F”.
As it does not mean food one wonders whether he’s on dope
but couldn’t the producers make him wash his mouth with soap?
He insulted everything he saw in India and in Australia caused so much strife
Prime Minister Kevin Rudd described him as a new form of low life.
The BBC says when using obscene language he’s just being a lad
and, after all, that’s not so bad.
When invited to a U.S. show he was forced to swear
but only to promise to clean up his act or he wouldn’t appear there.
Meanwhile, everyone who in the U.K. has a television set
must fork out $200 for the rubbish they get.
When their crawl described the 33 children trapped in a Chilean mine
had the writer been spending too much time bent over his stein?
Or by misspelling “miners” as “minors” was he trying to make a joke
and again at foreigners attempting fun to poke?
But of one thing there can be no doubt:
Top Gear’s Jeremy Clarkson is the Beeb’s most notorious lout.
When he sent in his application for the job
did they ask him to prove that he’s a yob?
About motor cars he is supposed to be talking
but instead he just keeps on squawking
and by giving his opinion on matters of which he is unaware
his empty-headedness he clearly lays bare.
When he lauds the virtues of Jacquar cars he says are British
is our Jeremy perhaps just trying to be skittish?
Or could it be his idiotic intent
to pretend they are not owned by Tata Motors from the subcontinent?
I could suggest he should try to change his gears
but to do so he’d need to have something between his ears.
And it would be asking far too much
to insist that he control his clutch.
He is supported by the pathetic Richard Hammond and James May
to help him his boorish game to play.
When he diatribes as he struts around his broad arena
their laughter reminds us of a hysterical hyena.
Besides countries and cultures he insults people he doesn’t like
and if that happens to be a woman he will call her a dyke.
Every cyclist he yells should be banned from the road
or be run over like any ill-fated toad.
When caught speeding at almost 300 kilometres on a public road
witnesses thought with rage he would explode
as he blew his top about the stupid rule
that prohibited him from playing the fool.
From his posh school he was thrown out for being drunk and generally misbehaving
showing he started early with his ranting and raving.
So maybe it is time for him to stop being one of the boys
and return to his former job of hawking Paddington Bear toys.
Gone are the days when to those who wanted to learn English I would helpfully advise
that to listen to the BBC they would be wise.
I now have to tell them, and I confess I do so with a pang,
they must listen to the German Deutsch Welle or the South Korean Arirang.