for Jemma Brown
*
Alas, alack, I am undone, upon my cheek a raging flush
For I’ve discovered, oh what fun, I have a guilty Tory crush
You’d think, you would, a girl like me, a wafty lefty sort of bint
Would fain bestow her fancy free on someone of a redder tint
…
On Dennis Skinner, him, perhaps, or Livingstone, you might presume
Or younger, pinker, backbench chaps, some decades nearer to the womb
But I’m for Clarke, for Old Blue Ken, a Behemoth of an MP
That wonder amongst Tory men; Kenneth Harry Clarke QC
…
Girl, you say, you’ve lost the plot, the bloke’s a cad, a Tory cove
But I say Ken is steaming hot, unlike yer Howard, or yer Gove
But Girl, you say, he’s of the Right! It’s wrong, so wrong, in many ways
Come back, come back, in to the light! This thing for Ken is just a phase
…
Much like the Mosley years, I say (which episode was far from jolly)
Oh that, well, mmm, a tough one, hey, I’ll put it down to youthful folly
But Girl, our Kenneth’s not yer man, he’s not your type, your type at all
And come the day shits hits the fan he’d have you first against the wall
Er…
God help me! Look how dextrously he fondles that big fat cigar
Kenneth, take a turn with me, in some cool posh flash racing car
Or take me, twitching, in your hide, or show me how to dance to jazz
What price street cred, left wing pride, who cares when you’re as randy as
…
Oh, Ken, Your Corpulence, you’re cute, your chubby cheeks are so disarming
The way you burst out of your suit; so boyish, and so fatly charming
You’re bad! You’re good! You speak your mind! But really, here’s the nub of it
A forthright man is hard to find, and frankly
You don’t give a shit
*
© Gail Foster 21st October 2016
(Oh come on, girls you must agree, he’s got it goin’ on, has Ken
Just Jemma Brown? Just her and me? Much more of Ken for us two then
Bags me first dibs then, Jemma, hey, you can have him when I’m done
I’ll have him early in the day, and you can have a later one
He likes a pint or two, you know, well rather more than that methinks
Me, I’ll have his morning glow and you can take him out for drinks
But maybe, mate, one at a time, no threesomes, even though you’re lush
Ha ha Jemma, here’s yer rhyme, about my guilty Tory crush)
