Events, Dear Boy…
It’s a reshuffle scuffle,
It’s a cabinet crash,
And a crab-wise scuttle
From a Whitehall dash.
A sprint down Downing Street,
To sweet F.O.
A Number 10 tremor,
As the change-winds blow.
But who is the Minister for Photo-Ops ?,
And who is the Secret’ry for Sex ?
Who will smooth the dents from the Woolsack,
Or stalk the back benches for a principal to flex ?
Who gets to spit-and-polish Black Rod ?
And who’s got a whip as long as the Chief’s ?
Who is caught Without Portfolio,
Covering their backside with only their briefs.
It’s a lobbyist’s hobby,
It’s a settle-out-of-court,
For a Westminster spinster,
And a Portcullis sport.
Then off to the Palace
For the Prime of all chaps –
And a Government is formed,
Till it’s time to collapse.
Rhyming Couplets 