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.

The Twelve Days Of Brexit

On the first day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
A turnip in a, er, tur tree.

On the second day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Two roadkill doves,
And a turnip in a tur tree.

On the third day of Brexit
My true love sent to me
Three dead rats,
Two roadkill doves,
And a turnip in a tur tree.

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

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 turnip in a tur tree.

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 turnip in a tur tree.

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 turnip in a tur tree.

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 turnip in a tur tree.

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 turnip in a tur tree.

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 turnip in a tur tree.

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 turnip in a tur tree.

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 turnip in a tur tree.

Let's Do Brexit

"I'm bored with being PM," said Dave. "Let's do up a bus and go on a merry jaunt."

"We can't," said George. "We privatised bus companies because government has no role to play in public transport."

"Are you sure," asked Dave, "because we give them lots of money?"

"But it goes to businesses so it's okay," said George.

"Oh, right," said Dave, whose head was starting to ache a bit with all this complicated economics stuff. "Let's climb Everest instead."

"I don't know about that," said George. "It's covered in white, powdery stuff I'm told."

"We've got to do something," cried Dave, "Samantha's told me to get out of the house while the decorators are in. I know, let's ask our chums."

And so they asked their chums who had a hard time making up their minds. Some liked Everest because they'd seen the ads on the telly. Others thought it would take all their pocket money but Boris told them they were cowardy, cowardy custards. At last they agreed to climb Everest. Dave decided that he didn't really want to so he went home and sulked.

"Should we buy a map?" asked someone and they all laughed at the speccy swot.

"If it's to be a proper expedition we need a leader," someone else said. "How about DD? He was in the CCF and he's been camping in Wales."

"Wales? What's that?" asked Dominic. They all threw wine corks at him. Then they went for a cheeky Nando's.

To be continued ...

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