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?
Twinkle In The Sky.
It was fifty years ago on this auspicious day
Neil Armstrong had these prophetic words to say,
‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,’
Before stepping out to see what in Heaven he might find.
Will there be diamonds, just lying around?
Will there be gold, or the good oil underground?
A planet full of platinum- or plutonium- ours to take?
Some star-spangled silver to make into a lunar keepsake?
And what worldly wonders the brave spaceman saw;
Just rocks and dust, dust and rocks, rocks by the score,
Dutifully into the sample satchel Neil tossed in the rubble;
A dumb bag of rocks costing all this time, travel and trouble.
See that tiny twinkle, fading on the moons crust?
Fifty years on Apollo 11 sits, forever gathering dust,
Back on Earth NASA scientists say it has all been worth it;
Pity NASA’s accountants, they’re still struggling to unearth it.
Not A Prayer At Lords.
There’s no more gracious loser than that humble Black Capped bloke,
Though handicapped by the International Cricket Councils ruling joke-
Backing England to win on boundaries, the latest of their master strokes-
Including that deflected six from that lucky bast- batsman, Master Stokes!?
The Big Show Off.
On July the Fourth, Independence Day
President Trump put on his great display,
The Air Force planes soared and roared overhead
As Donald addressed his MAGA cap waving sea of red.
It was quite the show of militaristic might,
A tip of the hat to the old, the traditional, the white,
Then down came the rain, soaking the poor crowd through,
Between the rains and the planes Don screamed himself blue.