Premier Boris sits in his bathroom
With precision tousling his hair
(People don't realise such an effect
Takes so much effort and care.)
Such a busy morning pending,
Decisions to be made that he hates,
Deciding how much he'll bung, and
To which of his many deserving mates.
Oh the pressure of being in power
Just makes the time slip away
Not long to PM's Question Time
And not yet finalised the lie of today.
He's been practicing his tactics
Waving like a crow scaring farmer,
That and a bit of shouting proves
Enough to see off Old Starmer.
The Christmas season's approaching
The time when Parliament breaks
And he's not yet decided which of the
Proffered free holidays that he takes.
He's enjoying his time in power
Though the prospect makes him sick
That one day they'll kick him out
When voters finally stop being so thick.
But an ex premiers pension is decent
And folk tend to do as they're bidden
Particularly those aware that he knows
Where most of their skeletons are hidden.
One last long look in the mirror to
Artfully disarrange thr old school tie.
Then it's off to face the House with
An almost heart wrenchingly deep sigh.
