The majority of the polls show most people believe Trump should be impeached. Don must feel the pain deep in his psyche, or deep someplace.

Slippery Slide.

Don’s approval ratings are worse than Tricky Dicks,
That other poor but dishonest Republican,
But Don does believe he’ll rise above it all, like a phoenix,
Not see his Great presidency slither down the pan.

If he fails, and too much of the smelly stuff sticks
Don can easily resort to his master plan,
Dig down into his deep and dark bag of tricks
And call on the base part of his loyal K- clan.

Wash away the Presidents half baked fake politics,
Wipe away the vaingloriously fake tan,
Peer into that chockablock box of Freudian neurotic tics
And behold the child inside the man.

President Trump’s call to the President of the Ukraine- the subtle art of getting his message across.

Phoney Friends.

For tweet natured Donald a new day is dawning,
Things are heating up, and not due to global warming,
Talk of impeachment is ruining his peach of a morning,
On the political horizon dark storm clouds are forming.

Don complains those nasty Democrats are to blame
For badgering the poor law a’biden President again,
Take his word for it, there’s nothing true to their claim,
If you don’t believe him, ask the President of the Ukraine.

Mr Zelensky will clearly unconditionally and categorically state
No Presidential pressure was exerted, no Don deal;s were made-
And Dons character is not just good, its unimpeachably great-
Now that $400 million in military aid has been promptly paid.

Boris strolls in to 10 Downing Street and Theresa hands the chalice on to Boris. Well, sup up, enjoy the sweet taste, tousle headed one.

Behind The Black Door.

As Tess’s tenure at Number 1O comes to a close
It’s ta-ta to our failed frazzled fading English rose,
Slowly down Downing Streets steps she grudgingly goes,
Then up steps blow-hard Boris, striking his grinning pose.

After passing ‘neath Boris’s victorious sneer
Tess turns, takes a look back shedding ‘nary a tear,
Theresa suppresses the smile that strives to appear;
One grateful Briton, glad to be gettin’ the hell outta here.

Outside the door where she’d once stood, stammering,
Boris is the boy for whom all the Brexiteers are clamouring;
Tess knows after six months of political Sturm Und Drangering
Boris will be beside himself, behind the door, getting a hammering.

Theresa May gives up trying. And hasn’t it been long and trying?

The Continental Dogs Breakfast.

If I may say, I saw a sad picture in the news,
This Ms. May, I wouldn’t wish to be in her shoes,
Standing, down, a teardrop trickling from her eye,
The poor choked-up about to be ex-PM says bye-bye.

She gave it her diplomatic best
But her eloquence less than impressed;
Those long impassioned speeches she made,
Until told her welcome’s been long overstayed.

As Theresa turns her back on Number Ten
Ruing that she cannot be all things to all men
She shoulders her heavy baggage and I do believe
At last, friends and neighbors, Theresa’s going to leave.

No more trying on duplicitous deals,
No more clickety-clackety high heels,
No Theresa power walking Parliaments halls,
May has gone, and briefly, blessed silence falls.

A moment of contemplation as Tess departs,
Then the fighting for the Tory leadership starts,
What worthy will fill the shoes of the old dame?
Could another bouffanted blonde stake his claim?

The President sees Joe Biden throw his hat in the ring and turns on a bit of the old charm. Don just won’t respect his elders, cheeky impetuous youth that he is.

Kidult.

Don says he’s vibrant, strong and young,
He modestly stated this in his self -critique
Earlier this week.

To this childish delusion Don has long clung,
Yet most view our old boy as past his peak,
Practically, an antique.

Don has his guilt-edged golden tongue
Deeply, firmly wedged in his- cheek.
So to speak.

Forty-nine people- people, not numbers, but people – dead in a mosque shooting in NZ and an Aussie raving loony politician has the answer! It’s all due to those migrants ?! Back under your rock, Fraser Anning.

Too Right, Cobber.

Thank you for your deep thoughts, Fraser Anning,
No thanks, for the Right wing flames you’re fanning,
He condemns all violence, yet his dry eye darkly gleams,
For him it’s only the Right who can be left to go to extremes.

He’s saddened by Mosque shootings but
It’s not time to keep his diplomatic gob shut,
He’ll illuminate us of what we’ve been blind to;
Words Fraser has long had half a mind to.

First his ‘final solution’ speech brought screeches of indignation
From even Pauline Hanson and her all-inclusive One Nation,
But stating the victims of a Mosque shooting are to blame
Guarantees Fraser strolls straight into the Hall of Shame.

 

Cardinal Pell, off to jail, found guilty of abusing two young innocents. Still, he has a few (redundant) conservatively minded men who still support him.

Beyond Belief.

George Pell is due to serve six long years,
George has had quite the fall from grace,
He prays his appeal will reach Gods ears
And deliver him from this cold dark place.

But some do still believe the old Vatican envoy,
John Howard believes whatever George says,
Tony Abbott believes he’s innocent as a choirboy;
George believes… that’s an unfortunate phrase.