My Mate Phil

My mate Phil’s a lovely bloke – one of your old-fashioned east end folk;
what you’d call a diamond fellah. Bad health made him a Monaco dweller.
Was once king of the retail scene, ended up as Sir Philip Green!
Now he’s known as old money bags (made his billions out of fancy rags).

Phil is brash, with his foreign stash, he’s got the cash,
pension fund is trash, but he’s still flash.

He’s a knight but he’s alright – bit rude (you couldn’t say polite).
Those pensioners were losers – bastards now are unfair accusers.
Me? Frankly I couldn’t care less: I say BHS was a real success!
And Phil lost out too – you ought to know – it ain’t a bed of roses in Monaco.

BHS made some people choke; not Phil’s fault the pension’s broke.
He was gutted – totally stunned – when there was no dosh for the pension fund!
Took 500 mill but give him a break… he only got one quid for his personal stake.
And I know Phil’s hands were clean – poor bloke can’t help being a cash machine.

Phil is brash, with his foreign stash, he’s got the cash,
pension fund is trash, but he’s still flash.

Phil’s got a superyacht to run, and that private jet’s no fun.
Helicopter don’t come cheap. Wife Tina costs a lot to keep (make-up alone will use a lot of cash!).

As a couple they’re super-flash… so spare a thought for my mate Phil – he really needs that 500 mill.

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