The silly season’s in full swing,
MPs not doing anything,
For round about this time of year,
The members, whether Lord or Sir,
On holiday do all depart,
To get a tan or look at art.
It means that those in charge aren’t here,
Are likely elsewhere drinking beer,
And so the stand-ins now step in,
To take charge of the words and spin.
While Mrs May’s away this week,
The Chancellor’s the one to speak,
His speeches surely will you bore,
Unless we have nuclear war.
But from today he’s gone as well,
Which leaves in charge as I can tell,
One Boris J with golden hair –
He used to be the London mayor.
I hope that Putin bides his time,
Or this could be my final rhyme,
It really fills me with great dread,
So keep him clear of buttons red!
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