The Americans have just bombed the moon,
"They've murdered the fucking Clangers!"
"How can Barack Obama win the Nobel Peace Prize,
When his country's just bombed the shit out of the Clangers?
Even Bush never did that!
Isn't that alienist or something?"
Scream the battalions of deeply traumatised
T.V. shut-in channel-surfers,
Well maybe it is.
And of course the American scientists will be perplexed:
"We seem to have bombed subterranean soup mines,
Hidden in craters on the moon,
Our satellites indicate plumes of strange soup,
And remnants of a dead dragon caterer,
Spraying up into the lunar sky!
Oh, and we've bombed a bit of water as well.
As a glorious subject of America Junior,
If America can bomb the moon for water,
We should bomb an asteroid for milk.
We must join in,
Shoulder to shoulder.
It's only right.
The liberal student clanger
retro loving agenda,
Is so over.
And when it's economically prudent,
But not a moment before,
Let's bomb Mars for custard,
And let's bomb Jupiter for gravy.
Just as a present to ourselves really:
As a kind of reward to all humanity,
For the fiscal discipline we are currently suffering,
To ensure a viable future for all our children,
And in turn their children,
When our children fuck and are blessed with child.