There once was a PM called Rishi Whose plans for the future were wishy And washy but hey At the end of the day He had lovely teeth and was dishy © Gail Foster 4th January 2023
Satire
Cometh The Man
On the occasion of Matt Hancock (who?) going into the jungle (what?) Oh how our MPs entertain us We are what we eat - and sustain us Licking Boris's ring Was an actual thing And Nadine ate an ostrich's anus Matt Hancock. Who cares? Who is he? And where did you find him? (BB) And what has he done? Blah, blah, trouserless fun Blah, blah - ah, so a Tory MP Good luck in the jungle! You're who? Do watch out for the crocodile poo! And the people who think You're a wanker, wink wink For the fans of a Tory are few Who knows? He might prove to be good Give some old Tory women some wood Not that they'll see Being more BBC But I'm sure that they would if they could Cometh the moment a van In which cometh Matt Hancock who can Come up with the goods In the House or the woods Where is he? He's coming! Oh man © Gail Foster 2nd November 2022
Elon Had A Little Sink
Elon had a little sink And quite a lot of Twitter A Starlink and a skating rink And gold encrusted shitter I'd give it all up in a blink He said, and not be bitter If I had farts that didn't stink And tarts that didn't titter Elon did a lot of farts And most of them were smelly Distracting him from all the arts He liked to watch on telly And darts - he did like watching darts And reading Machiavelli While reaching down to touch the parts He hid beneath his belly Elon liked the ladies so And ladies liked his money He wished they wouldn't titter though At things that were not funny It's not the time for jokes you know He'd say, make like a bunny And - oh! - don't interrupt my flow Don't titter at me honey Elon had a massive head And doors he had to widen An IQ higher than, he said The tide that he was ridin' But when he snuggled in his bed He'd no-one to confide in Except his teddy, Little Ted And poster of Joe Biden Elon quite liked Donald Trump And Putin, or whoever Was popular that he could hump To make himself look clever And if they cut him off he'd dump Them instantly, forever And never let them kiss his rump Again. Or nearly never Elon had the notion that He was the true Messiah Jesus, he'd say, was a twat And my IQ is higher And I'm the King of Twitter, sat Above all that desire Me even though my head is fat And I may be a liar Elon. Onle. Leon. Nole - Who knows what you equate to You say you'll root out every troll But who knows what will fate do World domination is your goal And nothing less will sate you Beware behind the grassy knoll The ego that creates you © Gail Foster 28th October 2022
Boris Had A Little Do
Boris had a little do With biscuits and with cheese As little bits of blossom blew Upon the British breeze It was against the rules but hey As if he gave a toss It was a warm and sunny day And Boris was the boss Be sure your sins will find you out And somebody did tell And everyone began to shout 'What is that horrid smell?' 'It's Boris Johnson's lucky pants He coughed and followed through!' And suddenly the sycophants (Except for one or two Or three or four or five or six) Did hail a passing bus And chucked him under it. Mud sticks And no-one wants a fuss 'Alas poor Boris. Knew him well But didn't want to be Associated with the smell' They said. 'It wasn't me!' Said Boris, bleating like a lamb His back against the wall 'I'll go get Jonathan Van Tam And he'll explain it all' But silence was the stern reply Expedience the crack And so the shit began to fly And Boris got the sack Or did he? Will he? Won't he? What? His fleece is white as snow And even though he's lost the plot There's still the book to go 'It wasn't me!' he said. But there Was no-one left to hear He ran his fingers through his hair And poured another beer And waited for the storm to pass Which only took a while For being of a certain class And of a certain style The shit slid off him easily So shiny was his skin And sure enough and sleazily He slipped his way back in And had another little do With biscuits and with cheese And laughter on the breezes blew All through the London trees And all was well for Boris, hey For no-one gave a toss It was a warm and sunny day And Boris was the boss © Gail Foster 11th January 2022
Carrie Symonds and the Fish
Carrie Symonds sniffed the air
And wondered what the smell
That came from Cummings’ office was
Now he had gone to hell
How odious the man had been
And oh how he did hate her
So much that he had left a fish
Behind the radiator
Carrie Symonds got the fish
And threw it in the bin
How very nice the office looked
Without the Cummings in
But all the same there did remain
A funny sort of smell
And so she had it swept and cleaned
By MI5 as well
© Gail Foster 14th November 2020
The Elusive Danny Kruger
Why Danny, so cute, but elusive
Ornamental and yet unobtrusive
Preferring to stay
At the end of the day
In locations a tad more exclusive
Why Danny, you see, while there’s cheese
In the pond and the voters to please
You could pop into town
Take the M4 and down
To Devizes (one ‘z’ and two ‘e’s)
Why Danny, you’ve come from above
Like a glorious bright Tory dove
With the light on your wings
And your parachute strings
And a note signed from Boris with love
Why Danny, we’ve hoodies that you
Can hug if you’re so moved to do
And a little white horse
And a Poundland of course
(that’s a ‘P’ and two ‘d’s and a ‘u’)
Why Danny, we wish you were here
Come the day will you even appear
Perhaps in The Bear
Or the Pelican, yeah
Bet you won’t pop in there for a beer
Why Danny, Devizes is nice
But in Wiltshire there’s mud and there’s ice
And Hammersmith’s so
Very pleasant you know
(Spell Devizes? One ‘D’ and ‘e’ twice)
Why Danny, you’re cute enough, true
But you’re Boris’s man through and through
And you’ll only appear
About four times a year
(There’s no ‘u’ in Devizes. Who knew)
© Gail Foster 4th December 2019
UPDATE: This morning, much to my surprise, I received a poetic retort from Danny Kruger (see below). Whilst I won’t be voting for him, one has to say Well Played.
Leaving Brexit Behind Us Forever
Why Gail, so full of surprises!
Thanks for the tips on spelling Devizes
I’m sure that we’ve met
But I haven’t seen yet
Through one of your many disguises
Are you the farmer from Manton who said
Have Defra gone off their head?
They’ve banned neonics
(The fleabeetle fix)
And so half my rape crop is dead
Or were you the soldier who proudly explained
This is how Yeomen are trained:
We leave them out in the rain
For a month on the Plain
And those that survive are retained
Perhaps you’re the teacher from Oare
Who said schools badly need more
Money – they’ll get it!
Sajid has said it!
The Budget will cough up for sure
But seriously, Gail, I’ll endeavour
To bring our country together
We’re badly divided
(Did you vote Leave? I did)
And I want Brexit behind us for ever
© Danny Kruger 6th December 2019
The MP for Devizes, Claire Perry
Written to mark the occasion of the Rt Hon Claire Perry MP’s recent appearance on Question Time…
*
The MP for Devizes, Claire Perry
Used to be fragrant and merry
Now she’s pointy and bitey
And not that politey
And bitter as bargain bin sherry
Our MP, the Honourable Claire
Has teeth that she quite likes to bare
In public debate
But her hair’s really great
And she did crack a blowjob joke. Yeah.
Claire Perry, MP for Devizes
Is worthy of Parliament prizes
At home we handle
Our bell, book, and candle
Whenever her presence arises
*
© Gail Foster 17th November 2018
Humpty Trumpty
*
Humpty Trumpty built up a wall
Of hatred and bullshit, in no time at all
So full of hot air and albumen
Bumptious Numpty
An egg amongst men
…
Trumpty Bumptious, sat on his wall
Infusing the air with a sulphurous pall
Obdurate ovoid, and odious smell
Truly Trumptious
The egg from hell
…
Rambunctious Trumpty, sat on his wall
A slug on his own at an ugly bug ball
Blot on the skyline, and bombastic bore
Humpty Dumptious
An egg to ignore
…
Dumpty Trumpty, sat on his wall
The King of the Fools looking down on the small
Dark is his shadow and yellow his yolk
Unctuous Humpty
The egg that spoke
…
Trumpty the Numpty, sat on his wall
Stirring the winds of the world to a squall
Summoning forces too violent to quell
Presumptious Trumpty
A shit in a shell
…
Humpety Trumpety, sat on his wall
Spitting out poison and hubris and gall
As stable and safe as a knife on a ledge
Precarious Numpty
An egg on the edge
…
Trumpty the Terrible, sat on his wall
The sun on his hair and the land in his thrall
Waiting to hatch from his keratin keg
Horrible Humpty
The dangerous egg
…
Humpty Trumpty; the egg with a plan
To set race against race, and man against man
Let us conjure a mischievous wind to unseat him
Fry him in Mexican spices
And eat him
*
© Gail Foster 2nd Sept 2016