Monday 24 December 2018

Good King Treeza: A Christmas Carol

PM Treeza last looked out
On the feast of Stephen
Brexit crap lay round about
Deep and brown and heaving
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the Mail was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath'ring winter fuel

"Hither, Gove, and stand by me
If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Ma'am, he lives quite close to here
Sleeping on the pavement
Right against the Thatcher gates
For he is a vagrant."

"Bring me beans and bring me Scotch
Bring me sanctions hither
Thou and I will see him die
As the cold gets bitter."
Gove and PM sat back down,
Raised a glass together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the freezing weather

"Ma'am, the night is darker now
And the headlines wronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, Gove you prat
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the sanction's rage
Freeze thy blood quite coldly."

In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very lies
Which the Mail had printed
Therefore, Tory men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will curse the poor
The taxman will be blessing.





Tuesday 11 December 2018

The Twelve Days Of Brexit

On the first day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
A tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the second day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the third day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the fourth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the fifth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the sixth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the seventh day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the eighth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the ninth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Nine mothers crying,
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the tenth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Ten lords a-leaving,
Nine mothers crying,
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the eleventh day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Eleven paupers homeless,
Ten lords a-leaving,
Nine mothers crying,
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.

On the twelfth day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Twelve Tories humming,
Eleven paupers homeless,
Ten lords a-leaving,
Nine mothers crying,
Eight maids illegal,
Seven swabs of rickets,
Six geese a-dying,
Five mouldy crusts,
Four starving cats,
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a tollbooth in the Irish Sea.



Monday 3 December 2018

Theresa May's Brexit plan: No but yeah but


When Theresa May met Vicky Pollard ...

Mrs May, it’s been weeks now and we still haven’t seen your Brexit plan.

No but because what happened was was I was going round Liam’s but then this whole fing happened right because Amber Rudd who’s a bitch anyway has been completely going around saying that Justine stole some money out of Esther’s purse but I ain’t never not even some to Justine ‘cause she spat in Edwina’s hair.

Mrs May, when will we see the Brexit plan?

Yeah because but what happened was was this whole fing happened what I don’t even know anyfin about because Boris Johnson has been going around saying that David’s brother smells of mud but I ain’t so shab never even not even stole no car so shab.

Mrs May, have you even started this plan?

No but yeah but yeah but yeah no but yeah no but yeah but no because I’m not even going to Europe because Liam reckons they smell of garlic.

You know if we don’t get the plan by the end of this Parliament you do know it will be a disaster for the UK?

Yeah I know but David Davies emptied a whole bottle of Fanta into Merkel’s bag but anyway Boris reckons he fingered her in the Commons.

Mrs May, do you want the UK to prosper?

UK what? Don’t give me evos.