Monthly Archives: August 2017

Sometimes all that incendiary talk is more than hot air.

Teed Off On Vacation

When he was polishing his ball out on his course
Don found he had the the time to talk of applying force,
Off on vacation, still chipping away, Don began to ponder
On launching things other than balls into the wild blue yonder.

Part of Dons game is matching fire with fire
But when Kim hears Dons voice his rises higher,
To Donald it’s merely vainglorious sabre rattling,
More obnoxious oafish juvenile bully-boy prattling.

Dons crazy talk is reciprocated by Kim Jong Uns,
Anyone listening knows they’re both Loony Tunes,
And so Donalds words, so lacking in diplomatic grace,
Fulsome words full of braggadocio, blow up in his face.

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Do Dons thoughts turn to Melania and Ivanka
As he self-pityingly putters around in his bunker?
Seems Kim had found Dons gentle joshing… annoying;
The anger from their fallout is more than Seoul destrying.

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They line up on Dons White House floor, blithely unaware they’re standing on the trap door.

The Revolving Door.

Michael Flynn strode through Dons welcoming door
Little knowing the rapid turnaround he had in store.

Gone, thanks to Russian lies,
Don could only sympathise.

James Comey said his FBI would find more, much more;
Then, ignominiously HE was fired, a sort of Flynn encore.

I guess to James this came as no surprise,
He wouldn’t stop his his ears or avert his eyes.

In January we’d heard Spicers Trumpian oratory loftily soar,
By July he’s silently tumbling down a white House corridor.

For someone who’d praised Don to the skies
His departure didn’t move Don to eulogise.

Reince Priebus was looking down the barrel to be number four-
Now he’s gone and followed the footsteps of those gone before.

Amongst the few muted old guard GOP cries
Scaramucci’s howl of delight was hard to disguise.

Then a measly ten days after Don had unleashed his dog of war
The Mooch was torn from Dons side, despite the oath he swore.

Privately, Don admits his own picks seem unwise;
Who to trust to keep away prying eyes, and the FBI’s?

On which trusty loyal loyal pool of sycophantic fawning foo- fans to draw?
Don knows a Great deal as it dawns on him- THAT’S what family’s for.

Looking at the last post got me thinking about drinking, and the reasons we do. Getting the boot is one.

Cheers?

Teary-eyed and terminated, a tragic figure slipped into the bar,
Sadly spent the night dripping tears straight into the whiskey jar,
‘A stellar career, up in the stratosphere- now another falling star,’
The spirit might erase the painful memory but not the mental scar.

A fellow fallen angel appears mutely by the table, standing a round,
The sorry bemused look on his face speaks volumes without the sound,
Undoubtedly, soberly the twain never would have reached common ground;
Reince, Mooch and misery love company if there are sorrows to be drowned.

Seven priests walk into a bar in Cardiff and are refused entry because the doorman thought they were taking the pi- Well, that they were in fancy dress and out on a stag night.

Seventh Heaven.

A newly anointed priest is just cause for Fatherly celebration,
So to the City Arms seven priests trooped, in search of libation,
But the doorman wouldn’t let them in,
‘We don’t do stag dos at this here Inn.’

But the Lord- Landlord- stepped in and saith ‘but priests they are,’
And after a toast to the host- mein host treated the padres a free jar,
Each one showered the sheepish doorman with a blessing,
Or rather, since I know no Latin, that’s what I’m guessing.

Hell, when you hired the Mooch he toldja he ain’t no saint. Din’t he ? Jeez. Sheesh.

Leaks Of Biblical Proportions.

Who will save us in our hour of need?
The Mooch looks happy, willing and able indeed,
Just give him two weeks
He’ll plug those damn leaks…
Oops, the Mooch spoke much too soon,
Sworn out his welcome, gone by afternoon.