(Or what if Paul Simon was writing about a British local council)

Council, come they will
When bins are full and overflow the drain
May, be today
Could we see clean streets again
Soon, grass will be hewn
In pointless talks they’ll go out on strike

Why, we all sigh
We had no warning of our plight
Disgust, end of trust
The rising bills over our heads they hold
Remember, we surrender
While we swerve around the new pothole

(alternative lyrics by Louise Pull)