My Old Man’s a Toolmaker: The Ballad of Keith Starmer

Satire’s Dead When The Truth is Unsaid…

Narratives can often be a delicate dance of storytelling and image-building. One such narrative, woven by the leader of the Labour Party, Sir Keir Starmer, revolves around his working-class roots and the challenges he faced growing up. He frequently draws upon his father’s profession as a toolmaker to paint a relatable picture of himself as a man of the people. But as with any well-crafted story, there’s more beneath the surface.

In this satirical piece, we delve into the Ballad of Keith Starmer, a look at that narrative that raises questions about authenticity, privilege, and the policies that define his political journey.

Keir Starmer: ‘My Dad Was a Toolmaker’ and Other Little Grifts

It’s clear to most that Sir Keith protests too much! Beneath the homespun hokum lurks a right Barrister looking to get ahead.

Take the warning, crafty Keith adopts whatever guise serves his ambition, be it radical, moderate or salt-of-the-earth son of toil. A sheep in wolf’s clothing our Keith, bleating socialist platitudes one minute, then shafting the left the next.

So beware of these tall tales from Keith the Spiner! His rhymes are more contrived than a cut-price Morris dancer. Should poncy Sir Keith seize power, he’ll be as much a man of the people as Marie Antoinette playing Dairymaid. Mark my words, friends, behind that fakery lies ambition naked, ruthless and unashamed!

So gather round for a fireside satirical tale all about Sir Keith the Spiner, where this scion of the shires recites his stories of his dad the humble toolmaker and his tool.

The Ballad of Keith Starmer…

My old man’s a toolmaker he wears a toolmaker’s hat, but when it came to it, he made me a Tory twat.

My old man’s a toolmaker, oh, the tale’s got quite a twist,
I claim to be working-class, but there’s something I’ve missed.
My old man’s a toolmaker, of that, you’re often told,
But there’s more to the story, let the truth unfold.

My old man’s a toolmaker, I tout his humble trade,
While spinning working-class tales, a facade I’ve carefully made.
My old man’s a toolmaker, that point I often state,
But not that he owned the factory, can’t mention his high estate!

My old man’s a toolmaker, oh what a curious plot,
I claim to champion the people, but alas, I do not.
He owned the very factory, where the labourers toiled each day,
but that’s not what I say in my own disingenuous way.

My old man’s a toolmaker he wears a toolmaker’s hat, but when it came to it, he made me a Tory twat.

My old man’s a toolmaker, but I went to a private school,
With books and ties so neat, that’s where I learned the rule.
Then off to university, privilege can’t be beat.
Oxford was my next stop, a place of grand elite.

My old man’s a toolmaker, we’re sharing, with a twist that can’t be missed.
My old man’s a toolmaker, and the truth does still persist.
To know he owned the factory, well, the workers would be pissed.
While I assert their legacy, a point I’ve often fixed.

My old man’s a toolmaker, but I took a different route,
Becoming a barrister, my future’s path was astute.
Defending the well-to-do, in courtrooms I’d persist,
Director of Prosecutions, with titles to coexist.
My old man’s a toolmaker, but I’m Sir Keir Starmer now,
In politics, I forged a path distinct, don’t ask me how.

My old man’s a toolmaker he wears a toolmaker’s hat, but when it came to it, he made me a Tory twat.

My old man’s a toolmaker, but I joined the Trilateralists,
In their secret scheme. An elite member of the club,
in their exclusive dream.
Now I lead the Labour Party, or so the banners say,
But my policies lean right, more like the Tories they convey.

So when he boasts his background, with tales that seem so tall,
Remember Keir’s journey, from privilege to it all.
His old man’s not the issue, in this political chat,
It’s the policies he’s pushing, that make him such a Tory twat.

The Ballad of Keith Starmer, a tale of twists and turns,
Where lies and media complicity, the nation yearns to discern.
Let’s not be fooled by narratives, carefully spun,
For in the search for truth, our battle’s just begun.

My old man’s a toolmaker he wears a toolmaker’s hat, but when it came to it, he made me a Tory twat.

My old man’s a toolmaker, that’s the myth we’re sold,
But whose interests, will Starmer’s Labour hold?

-Paul Knaggs