The campaign for Tory leadership*
Had all the political finesse
Of a sandcastle building competition
Running from Bognor to Skegness.
I don’t mean any disrespect
To fellow sea-siders
It’s just that down in Brighton
It’s pebbles from ear to ear…
The contest didn’t transpire
To handbags at dawn
(Though in truth, by contrast,
‘Twas a little forlorn-
It would’ve been more fun to warn
Of serious potential risk of harm
From taking a hit or raising an arm
With rocks and stones
And missiles of choice,
In a high pitched voice:
A school-ma’am-ish indictment
Of how these things are done,
Until the voting’s won.
Cheers, Dave, for your singular contribution:
Here’s wishing you your peace and quiet
With minimal retribution.
I somehow doubt what follows on
With be that much improved,
But I’m sure party members
Will endeavour to seem moved.
Though forgive me while I wonder,
With Blue noses in the air,
How on earth can they seriously expect
Anyone else to care…?
Except, of course, for Jeremy,
Like Rudolph in the wings,
Having really rather made a shambles
Of Labour’s leadership thing.
Take your pick- or do your own online search…