We’ll make a little psychopath of you yet, so we will,
With grain from the dark, Satanic mill,
Sprinkled on your Frosties,
Mashed up in your beer,
It’s the granules in your TV screen,
That will leave you feeling queer.
Take another selfie,
Watch another factor,
Britain’s got talent, don’t you know:
A stage of gifted actors.
Who do as they are told,
On every rum occasion,
And if not, there’s the water cannon –
A little light persuasion.