Boris had a little think
It wasn’t going well
And so he had another drink
His queasiness to quell
‘I like a nice Merlot’ he said
‘Although a cheaper wine
It gets me proper off my head
And leaves me feeling fine’
Boris poured a massive glass
Of Merlot, and some more
And woke up fallen on his arse
Upon the kitchen floor
‘I blame that Rishi bloke for this
Theresa May for that
And anyone who takes the piss
In opposition sat’
‘You mark my words’ he gestured in
The mirror, ‘I will rise
Like Jesus Christ and – where’s the gin?
I’ve run out of supplies’
He wobbled to the kitchen and
Cried ‘Carrie, what’s to do?’
And with his member in his hand
‘Look what I’ve got for you!’
The house was empty though, the halls
Were of his wife bereft
He felt a sinking in his balls
Was no-one, no-one left?
‘Cooee!’ Thank God, it was Nadine!
How fragrant she! They kissed
‘My God, my love, where have you been?
Come, help me get more pissed’
And so she trotted to the shop
And bought him wine and beer
Prosecco, porn, and fizzy pop
Enough to last a year
And oh the party that they had
‘You’re wonderful’ she gushed
‘I know’ said Boris, ‘and I’m bad’
‘I know you are’ she blushed
And then there was a knock and it
Was Jacob – ‘Come and join!’
Said Nadine, flopping out a tit
And tickling his groin
And it was perfect. Jacob in
His gimp suit, Boris drunk
And Nadine high on fancy gin
‘What was the thought I thunk?’
Thought Boris. For he had forgot
Quite who he was and why
Was he Prime Minister, or not?
And he began to cry
But not for long, for sweet Nadine
Did dry his eyes and pour
Another drink, for she was keen
To get him on the floor
‘You’re wonderful’ she said
‘I know’ said Boris, ‘so are you’
(Though anyone would do in bed
When he had had a few)
‘And baby I got Brexit done’
‘Oh say it once again
Shakespearean and sweetly spun
You giant among men!’
We’ll leave them to it there, I think
They few, they happy few
Nadine the prettiest in pink
And Boris in the loo
And Jacob dressed in latex. Ew
What some folk do for kicks
‘At least we’re not in the EU’
Said Boris, between sicks
‘You OK, hun?’ said sweet Nadine
‘Of course I am’ he said
‘And I will rise again, my Queen
To bed, my love, to bed!’
© Gail Foster 10th June 2022