Poor Theresa May is finding this leaving lark tough,
Trump is coming a’calling just when Boris calls her bluff,
Boris’ untimely and boorish approach she should rebuff-
She ain’t no bloody Boadicea, but she’s made of stern stuff-
But she is oh so tempted to hand it to that tousle-haired scruff.
Let Bo take the tiny hand that slithers from the silken cuff,
A pedicured pampered hand, yet a touch… course and rough,
Let them bond over common interests; trade, markets, dandruff?
But Tess does know one red white and blue bastard is quite enough,
So she’ll smile, lie and try to think of England and not stalk off in a huff.
David Camerons strange exit strategy…
A smile, a so-long AND a song.
Leaving On A Sour Note.
David stands outside Number Tens dark door,
Strange how it doesn’t feel like home any more,
But since the vote didn’t go his way he won’t stay,
He won’t be overstaying his welcome, come what May.
His farewell speech all said and done
He savours one last moment in the sun,
Yet in his breast he finds he feels not grief
But a burgeoning sense of welcome relief.
He didn’t know he was already ready to depart,
He walks away, a spring in his step, a song in his heart,
Unburdened at last, it’s a jaunty tune that he’s humming;
But really David, ‘Anarchy In The UK’ is most unbecoming.