Thursday, November 02, 2006

Election Promise

New Labour lined the lobbies two by two.
The whips prowled round with narrow, desperate,
smiles, so keen were they to see
that each MP knew what to do.
They had no need to sweat.
In Bliar’s brave ranks would you have bet
That only twelve would dare to stand their ground?
As for the rest, they tamely joined the queue
to add their voices to the bleating sound
of self delusion, self interest, self abuse.

It won’t be long now, before we see them come again
besuited, red-rosetted, scroungers all
on our doorsteps come to call
for more support, but listen, let me warn them…
Don’t come knocking on my door.
Don’t come asking for my vote.
I won’t be pictured next to you
on your next photo shoot
The bile is rising in my throat
and I know just what I should do
with your backside and my left boot.
This one's going to my local MP. I'll let you know if I get a reply. Oh and by the way this is poem 100!

1 comment:

  1. Poem 100! Congratulations!

    Let us know if your MP bends over or flees. :>)