Category Archives: FBI

Nothing to see, hear, nothing to speak of. So Don says.

Loud Crowd.

How Donald Trumps siren call rang out-
Hills was guilty, of something, anything, ain’t no doubt,
No need to fact check-
She looks a likely suspect-
‘Lock her up, lock her up!’
And his phalanx of feeb- free thinking patriots took up the shout.

Now how deathly quietly they turn and listen to hear if Flynn
Receives word from Don on high to speak no sin,
As the dots begin to connect
Might Don speak to Mike direct?
Do something, anything to shut him up,
Sternly advise him to take a deep breath and…… hold… it… in.

Advertisements

A tale of mystery and imagination, and perhaps, medical misadventure? Lately truth is stranger than fiction though.

Serious As A Heart Attack.

Ashen faced Don was devastated to hear
His once ‘excellent guy’, his pal Papadopolous
Had not stayed shtum, he had spoken
To the FBI, and Bob, and out of turn;
This had left Don f… furiously cross,
And Damn near heart-broken.

Two things had ‘conspired’
To cause a tiny cardiac infraction;
George, that little bottom-feeding sucker
Had been tapped by the FBI, but had he been wired?
Had there been talk of an overseas bank transaction?
Cause enough for both heart flutter and sphincter pucker?

No, there was no heart attack that I know of. You gotta have one, for a start.

Halloween eve, Paul Manafort is arrested and Don leads the morning prayer, and leads the hymn at the White House on this special day.

Lost Souls Abroad On Halloween.

Let’s spare a prayer and a thought
For true, loyal servant Paul Manafort,
Why must Mueller have to look so keen?
Don feels a Presidential compulsion to intervene.

Don sends his trusted friend his support
And the finest Defence that can be bought,
It’s costing a fortune to keep Pauls hands clean
So somebody does know the trou- roubles he’s seen.

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.

There’s a great deal of Devil in the detail, as the artful Don will tell you.

Two Of His Chosen Ones.

Don gave Sessions his contract, Jeff gave it his perusal,
‘Blind obedience, believe the unbelievable’- Dons usual;
When he makes an offer The Don doesn’t take a refusal,
So Jeff hastily signed on, time later for regret- and recusal.

With Comey going Don has another offer to extend,
He welcomed in Robert Mueller like a long-lost friend,
Would this crushing handshake and Dons limits never end?
Now he’s mulled it over, Bob suspects Comey started a trend.

Don’s picks know sniffing around his personal folder
Tends to make his warm and welcoming eyes smoulder,
Jeff and Bob are turning away, looking over their shoulder,
The balmy Mar-a-lago days have turned unreasonably colder.

The tale of a tape, or trying to splice and dice, to piece together the Don and Comey Comedy Show. Maybe its turning into farce?

Sound Bites.

Those tapes about Comey Trump brought up?
Just another fabrication Don thought up.

Now Don don’t like where the investigations going,
Just like his nose, Dons paranoia keeps on growing.

Now Robert Mueller may face the sack,
Bob, better shut your eyes or watch your back.

Donald, leave your troubles behind, fly off on a mysterious Middle Eastern holiday; Just hold on to your hat.

Practicing The Craft.

On his first flight our President moans and bitches,
The witch hunt is on, which he sees as most unfair,
In these first 100 days he’s had his share of glitches
So it’s GREAT Fox will take his- not fake- word to air.

Then leave ’em polished, constantly spinning up there.

The news the Left wing media rolls out and pitches
Make his dream trip on Air Force One a nightmare,
Pressure is building on his mind and in his britches,
And Nut Jobs note is proving a pain in the derriere.

Will Don come clean, or rely on flameproof underwear?