Listen, you can keep your offshore account,
The ‘well-earned’ bonuses you flaunt,
The upper class tarts you mount,
The media empire that you own,
Your eminence grise behind the throne,
Your god given right to rant, rave and moan,
All the judges that you’ve bought and sold,
The Swiss banks that keep you out of the cold,
The teams of surgeons paid to prevent your growing old,
Your mansions in the country, your penthouse flat,
Your Bollinger, foie gras, your rolls of fat,
Safe seat in the Commons, where you’re seldom sat.
Pay attention, you toffee-nosed Tory twat,
I can take all kinds of crap, but not that.
Don’t dare come between us, me and my cat.
This is the extract from Theresa May's speech to the Tory Party Conference
"We all know the stories about the Human Rights Act. The violent drug dealer who cannot be sent home because his daughter – for whom he pays no maintenance – lives here. The robber who cannot be removed because he has a girlfriend. The illegal immigrant who cannot be deported because – and I am not making this up – he had a pet cat."