Poetry! Poetry! Everywhere! And It All Stinks!

Seems the new fad for our elected oligarchs is to pen lines of verse that rip into the awful idiot who is currently PM. Following on from last week's sadly lacklustre effort about Downing Street, Teresa May - a woman previously most famous for her (terrible) choice in shoes - has picked up the quill as well. According to the BBC her verse runs as:

"At Downing Street the other day, I met a man sent on his way.
Close to Gordon for many years, the PM's rants brought him to tears.
But for all this he didn't care. He was pleased to see his minister there.
He'd been important once, you know. Now Carter told him: 'You must go.'"

Again, not quite strong enough for me, but any poem that stops short of calling Gordon Brown a "total fucking cunt" is not going to be strong enough. Nonetheless, it was enough to rile that terrible blend of android and woman, Harriet Harman:

"I don't know about her constituents, but mine are more interested in sound management than soundbites. They would rather have competence than her version of comedy."

There may be an element of truth in what Harman is bleating. But so great is my disdain for Nu Labour's answer to The Stepford Wives that I support May, if only because her poor attempt at comedy verse has created such a piously indignant response from Harman.

Still, this is just the Easter silly season. No doubt soon British Politics will return to normal. Where Gordon Brown fucks up at Prime Minister's Questions, Cameron fruitlessly calls on him again and again and again to answer basic questions and Nick Clegg stands in the Chamber, mouthing words like a guppy fish, but nothing of any worth spills from his mouth.

Thinking about that almost makes me wish we could have the poetry every day.