The Company You Keep.
Alas, poor miserable Roger Stone,
Into the slammer he’s been thrown,
Another Trump flunky lies in the hole
Unless Don has mercy on his craven soul.
The cells are where many dodgy deals are done,
Will Don take Rog’s call, begging Dons pardon?
In some dark sun-baked states liars get stoned,
In Dons half-baked State is perjury condoned?
Drop Out In Right Field.
Donald went out to the ballgame,
Up he stood, expecting wild acclaim,
But when they called him out by name
Back a chorus of disapproval came,
Don truly wondered who’s to blame;
The shame is, the man knows no shame.
Again, Palace Presents…
Wolverhampton wandered on to Selhurst Park,
For the Black country boys the future looked dark,
One place away from propping the Premiership up,
Hoping for a goalless draw or for Palace to slip up.
The past has shown
Slip ups aren’t unknown.
The doughty Palace team score, and then on the hour
A Wolves player wrestles himself into an early shower,
Surely for Palace this must mean game, set and match?
Ten man whimpering Wolves will be easy to dispatch.
The referee decides, at last
To give this game a final blast…
Of course, in that last lingering moment Wolves whip in a cross,
They score, and to this Palace fan the draw feels more like a loss,
The way my Eagles cough up points would make a parrot sick;
The reason, last day of the season my nails are down to the quick.
Going Blondly Where None Have Gone Before.
Since Boris Johnson has taken command
Of England’s grim and unpleasantly divided land
Do you wonder where Parliamentary democracy went?
That question gets short shrift from Boris The Omnipotent.
Want some time for Parliamentary debate?
Boris smilingly says ‘sorry, but time’s up, too late,’
Now that Boris’s big butt’s behind the steering wheel
It’s foot down to throttle any rumblings about his no deal.
BoJo is hellbent on doing what Teresa couldn’t achieve,
Boris’s going to fu- fly off, and without a buy-your-leave,
Driving blindly forward to where there’s no coming back,
Bozo’s exiting,hard, Right, into a cold unfriendly cul-de-sac.
They hauled poor cold Epstein from his cell,
Somehow Jeff had expired there- oh well,
The upside- he’s not looking at more jail,
The downside- he’s looking dead as a doornail.
No watching while his whopping legal bill enlarges
As his wily lawyers fight his childish charges,
No more paying for a ‘get out of jail’ card,’
Now his long-term future’s in the boneyard.
No more wondering throughout the trial
If he’ll be found a two-time paedophile,
Now he has no reason to wonder-
The reason being, he’s six feet under.
He might have been an amoral beast
But all that’s ceased since he’s… deceased,
Some cry blue murder, some say suicide
But all agree he wound up dead inside.
The good and noble NRA care, they care a lot
When some poor innocent schmuck gets shot,
Praying, as the priest’s administering the last rites,
Praying this won’t impact on their gun-totin’ rights.
Another shooting in the great States…oh, how hum-drum,
What once left me sadly speechless now leaves me numb,
This week Brownsville’s the place where the hot shots went ballistic,
Now, like the NRA, I see this tragedy as just another sad statistic.
Like the NRA, I now simply shrug, and move on,
It’s a crying shame but my innocence has gone,
I’ve hardened my heart, I may be losing my soul,
But pray I’ll never become a card-carrying NRA asshole
Where’s the love and the beautiful bromance gone?
That fabulous friendship between President Don
And his ex-best bro and buddy President Macron?
Soured, like the French wine Don slaps his punitive tariffs on.
Now those long manly handshakes that left Don red-faced?
Those kisses ‘pon the cheeks that Don enthusiastically embraced?
Macrons belief in civility and cordial relationships has been misplaced,
Don hates the look of French wine now- but hasn’t he always lacked taste?