(To the tune of Elton John’s Candle in the Wind)
Good bye, Ariel,
Didn’t need to keep us waiting, though.
You had the front to say ‚Well done!‘
When the blood began to flow.
They sought refuge in the darkness,
So you said: ‚Turn on the lights!‘
And your signature was a cut throat
With two eyes that died of fright.
And it seems to me you met your end
Like a crap Arriva train,
When some light rain outside Pontypridd,
Makes it two hours late again.
And I cannot help but notice,
Now that you’ve pissed off at last,
That a quiet death in hospital,
Doesn’t suit your blood-soaked past.
Ariel, you’re in luck,
The media don’t care at all,
They’ve pre-ordered enough whitewash,
To put ten coats on Whitehall.
They’ll say ‚He was controversial,
But, in the end, a man of peace.‘
That’s to say ‚He was a scumbag,
But he was our scumbag, at least.‘
I wish I could say, now you’ve shot through,
Everything will surely change,
But we both know that you’re no one-off,
You’re part of the standard range.
Your death doesn’t end an era,
no new time does it begin,
but, on balance, it’s still nice to know
that you’ve gone off oxygen.