Post-riot poem, priceless:
Our Father, who art in prison,
Mum doesn’t know his name,
Rioting done,
You’ll read it in The Sun,
In Birmingham as it is in London.
...Give us this day our dole money cheque,
And forgive us for rioting,
As we forgive those who give ASBOs against us.
Lead us not into employment,
But deliver us free housing.
For thine is smashed windows,
The plasmas and nicked computers,
For ever and ever,
Innit.
Short link: http://thatis.me/~xmSG$13