a rubbish poem bemoaning bloody hackers favouriting tweets for MPs that are household names

Poor Karl McCartney turned his back

And when he did his tweets was hacked

The hackers’ actions seemed absurd

They didn’t change poor Karl’s password

But spent time trawling just for fun

Some local stories from Lincoln

And bondage porn and rating bits

To favourite for him (callous shits!)

And then with not one word to Karl

They sodded off, with leery snarl

When Karl found out he was angry

He quickly stressed “it wasnae me”

And everyone was satisfied

And very glad when Poor Karl tried

To write a long complaining letter

To the scoundrels running twitter

But as yet poor Karl’s had no reply

I can’t think of a reason why

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About loveandgarbage

I watch the telly and read when not doing law stuff and plugging my decade and a half old unwatched Edinburgh fringe show.
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One Response to a rubbish poem bemoaning bloody hackers favouriting tweets for MPs that are household names

  1. You know why. It’s because he didn’t get a dog to write the letter for him.

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