Round the Roundabout

The Guardian says we can't do anything right,
In their ivory towers they can't see the light,
Lefties always whinging,
It's getting quite un-hinging,
Listening to them moan about us being too tough
And the next day they're saying we're not doing enough!

But I've got this riddle solved,
If from political correctness I may be absolved,
When the victim is of Black origin
The media demand we start forraging
For any suspect guilty or not
To throw in jail and hope to rot

When the victim is white
Then our actions must be light
For any effective conclusion
Is sure to bring excuses of "social exclusion"
And hoots and howls from the CRE
Accusing us of profiling racially

The world is funny old place
When an ethnic can simply use his race
As a get out of jail card
And media howl when we come down hard
On muggers
If they're black street buggers

But tomorrow's headline is already here
People everywhere are now in fear
"Why isn't action being taken now?"
In parliament there is an almighty row
"Bring back sus and lock them away"
"Anyone who mugs Rupert will be sure to pay"

So round and round it spins
And in the end nobody wins
When PC politics rules
And try to tell us how to operate - the fools
Maybe one day we'll return to sanity
But until then there is no place of sanctity.