6. CW’s poem to AL

May 6, 2018

Vote Walsh, by Chris Walsh

If I were

Prime Minister,

Or at least an MP,

I’d be great on the current affairs shows;

“I don’t know,” I’d say.

“Haven’t a scooby, mate.”

“We were wrong to do that, because we are totally incompetent.”

“I did have sexual relations with that woman.”

“I would resign, but you’d just get some other imbecile.”

“We are actively trying to kill off the poor.”

“Yes, because I am a sociopath.”

“My vested interests in big business are paramount, you fool.”

“I’m a dark horse, running on a dark racecourse.”

(As Prime Minister I might pretend

to be George Harrison from time to time.)

They’d love me.

I would run down egg-throwers

Like Pamplona bulls,

throttle them in full press glare.

I would smoke big fat cigars, and eye up interns.

I would give everyone a holiday to mark Britney Spears’ birthday.

My party conferences would be legendary-

I’d get hologrammed members of Abba to deliver keynote speeches.

I’d make late night phone calls

To Macron threatening to bombard Calais

Unless they airdrop fresh croissants over London.

I’d ask Angela Merkel to be my Spotify buddy.

I’d pass laws requiring Europe’s minor royals

To move to Middlesbrough.

My approval ratings would be fantastic.

The economy would boom like bust.

We’d get to Mars in an afternoon.

I’d ride around in an armoured Citroen 2CV.

Vote for me, motherfucker!

I’m a better calibre of idiot.