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Look Back in Anger to June 2024

You, current denizen of Number Ten
With gleaming Colgate smile and Gucci shoes,
Take serious pause for thought, reflect on when
The voters all reject you and you lose.

Your pledges, that you bravely, rashly, made – 
They will return to haunt you all too soon.
Your nemesis will come, will not be stayed;
Your wish is like a child’s who wants the moon.

You think it is enough to pass a law
To still your party’s fractious warring faction.
Your judgement is so pitifully poor
You confuse empty promises with action.

The cards are stacked against you, you’re misled,
Mistaken. Constant cabinet reshuffles 
Are futile: all the decent ones have fled
And you are left with piglets snouting truffles.

So now you balance on the very brink
Of the event horizon of the blackest hole
In which you’ll vanish, sooner than you think.
And may the Lord have mercy on your soul.

***************************************

The petit levée was when Corbyn rose
But he was premature and showed their hand.
He frightened sympathetic ‘I don’t knows’
Who wanted something just a tad more bland.

Then for the Labour party in distress
Rode up a noble knight in shining armour,
An answer to their prayers, more or less:
Not Lancelot or Sir Gawain, but Starmer,
A stuffed shirt with a rictus, pained expression,
Inspiring as a quarter-pound of lard.
Forgive me if I give the wrong impression
But to be complimentary’s rather hard.

Now Labour’s grand levée takes centre stage.
With vacuous platitudes the press are fêting
A diverse, inclusive, globalist new age.
I’m horrified by our P M in waiting.

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