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'Oi bruv, listen up innit, it’s ya boy Gazza Stevenson here, the one who made it big time back in the day. Yeah, I was that trader geezer, stackin’ mad P’s on the bond desk, livin’ the dream, flyin’ first class, birds everywhere, the full works...
But please bro, don’t even try it, yeah? I got rich but you never can do the same ‘cause I was a one-off, innit. Proper miracle, me. You lot? Nah. You’re stuck in the ends, scrapin’ by on zero-hour shifts, Universal Credit an’ dreams of a council flat upgrade. That’s just how it is now, bruv – the game’s rigged, the rich got all the ladders an’ you got the snakes. End of.
So what we gonna do about it? Tax the rich, that’s what! Hit ‘em where it hurts, take their yachts, their second gaffs in Marbella, their private jets – the lot. An’ while we’re at it, gimme some of that money too, yeah?
I mean, I’m one of the good ones now, ain’t I? I wrote the book, I do the talks, I’m on the telly tellin’ everyone how unfair it all is. But I still gotta eat, bruv. I still gotta keep the wolf from the door, keep the missus happy, keep the kids in private school so they don’t end up like you.
So bung us a tenner, or a grand, or whatever you can spare. Go on, means-test yourself, pay your bit. It’s for the greater good, innit. I’m tellin’ ya, if we don’t tax the rich proper – an’ by rich I mean anyone who’s got more than me right now – then you lot are proper screwed.
No hope, no future, just more Deliveroo gigs an’ Netflix on the electric that’s about to get cut off. But me? I’m the voice of the voiceless. I’m the one who escaped the matrix an’ came back to tell ya the door’s locked now...
So cough up, people. Donate to the cause. Subscribe to the channel. Buy the merch. Because we need to tax the rich… an’ I’m standin’ right ‘ere with me hand out, safe. You can’t make it like I did. I was special. You’re not. Simple as. Now gimme the money, bruv. For equality, yeah? For the kids. For the future. Please mate. Cheers Bro.'
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