Category Archives: trophy

Strange how what is just and right evolves in the modern Trump world. I suppose it must be all a matter of perspective, or do we rely on blind faith? Sweet Jesus, who’s to know?

Above And Beyond.

Lawyer Mike Cohen was, confidentialy, not just a Donald fan,
When it came to private peccadilloes he was Dons Mr Fix-it Man,
But his quietly recording Don’s costly affairs wasn’t part of Don’s plan,
Poor Don, its hard to believe a lawyer  could be so Machiavellian?

To Donald’s defence the Righteous leap-
His learned counsel should his counsel keep.

His year-long tryst with Karen old Donald can richly afford-
Two hundred grand, another Playboy plaything cheaply scored,
On Don carried, the same year Melania had baby Barron on board,
There’s no more damning words of a cheating bastard on record!

Fox TV showers invective on Mike, ‘he’s a deceitful creep’
While Trump treads water in the swamp, so dark and deep.

But twenty years ago you should’ve heard their moralistic mewling
When slick Willy left Monica high and dry by saying they weren’t fooling,
While the twists and turns of Billy-goats oral gymnastics were unspooling;
Funny how now fiery talk of a flesh new Hell for adulterers is cooling?

Now for the Right God fearin’ folk, talk is cheap,
About today’s gross infidelities, not one damn peep.

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England go to the world cup with no expectations, but perhaps this time hopes might not fade away, like the last time, and the time before and the time before that, and… (Best wishes and good luck from the Antipodes.)

Reboot.

I woke this morning, from a fevered dream,
My mind had dreamt of a winning England team,
So I shook my woolly head, threw off the duvet,
Rose to face the reality of watching England wilt away.

But this game had a result few could anticipate,
A smile wreaths the dial of gloomy Gareth Southgate,
I shake my stunned head, I stroke my gaping jaw,
Am I dreaming still or is this England in the final four?

Was it half a century ago Geoff Hurst won our hearts?
When the pop of ‘Mothers Little Helper’ topped the charts?
Dare I dream of those good ol’ days, of glories long gone,
Of 1966, since when all but the Rolling Stones have rolled on?

Oh, this is something long hoped for, if truly unexpected,
High time for the faded old red white ‘n’ blue to be resurected?
So, up to the loft I’ll go to disinter that trusty dusty back-pack;
Lets see if time’s been kind to a cheap-jack souvenir Union Jack?

The President comes back from meeting with some of the finest minds in the world and his first order of business is- a beastly business.

Blasted Conservation.

If you’re in the hunt for some good clean fun
Dig out your passport and grab your elephant gun,
Now, thanks to what Don has gone and said and done
You can blaze merrily away ‘neath the Zimbabwean sun.

Don has duly given his licence to a blood sport
And the NRA give him their wholehearted support,
It’s the product of a mutual disregard for logical thought,
But elephants are on the brink of being extinct, so time is short…

Fly direct to Zimbabwe
And land in festive and restive Harare,
Say you will pay handsomely to go on safari
(But better not say Grace or Robert Mugabe.)

Get over there before the climate here becomes too hot,
It just takes a little money and you can be a real big shot,
Some say big game hunting’s cold blooded killing , but it’s not,
But hurry, if you’re lucky you might even plug the last of the lot.

So take aim, squeeze your trigger, watch another fall,
Bringing down something so big makes a little man stand tall,
So bring back that brainless stuffed head, mount it on the wall;
Perhaps Dumbo Don has left us a perfect and lasting legacy after all?