Macron 406px-Caricature_Emmanuel_Macron

It is reported that President Macron’s televised address in connection with the gilets jaunes riots in which he tried to claim not to be the president of the rich was staged in the Ēlysée Palace’s ‘room of gold’ with gilt everywhere and a solid gold cockerel on the desk.

Now Macron is in quite a state,
Or thinks he is at any rate,
Because, despite his latest pitch,
He’s president of just the rich.

At least that is what people think,
And since this could create a stink,
He thought he should go on TV,
So that the people could all see,
That he’s the humblest person for,
He really thinks about the poor.

But then he chose a palace room,
With more gold than a pharaoh’s tomb,
And he, presumably, had missed,
His audience might get the gist,
Of thinking all this gold (that’s or),
Could mean he does neglect the poor.

He said he’d been misunderstood,
And so he’d like like it if they would,
To now believe what he will say,
Although it might not look that way.

He said the gilding matters not,
And though there might be quite a lot,
And rather more than he’s got here,
Right now he would just like a beer!

So politicians on TV,
Be careful what the cameras see,
If it’s too posh I have to say,
You ought to hide it all away.

Image – Stéphane Lemarchand, caricaturiste / Wikimedia commons


Boris Johnson 36928363842_24d45f2f78_b

It is reported that Brexit, Mrs May and everything else that is boring is set to rumble on interminably. Roll on Christmas … but which one? … hic.

Who will replace our Mrs May?
Some say it might be Boris J;
He’s had his hair cut, you can tell,
But that job wasn’t done too well.

It’s shorter but still lacks a brush,
Perhaps he was just in a rush,
When he got up and ventured out,
For he goes jogging round about.

Next thing, he cycled off to work,
It’s said he works hard, doesn’t shirk,
But bicycles don’t get you far –
Compared to a black Jaguar.

So now if he wants that top job,
He must stop looking like a slob;
That might just stand him in good stead,
Not like he’s just rolled out of bed!

In weeks to come there will be more,
Contenders than there were before,
But if you follow them I think,
You really ought to have a drink.

Image – Arno Mikkor (EU2017EE)

STUPID BOY! (Captain Mainwaring, Dad’s Army)

Capt Mainwaring 34285482783_0529c4de02_b

It is reported that Jeremy Corbyn allegedly called the Prime Minister a ‘stupid woman’ in the Commons chamber. He denies it and says he said ‘stupid people’ but lip reading, even by the inexpert, appears to show the former rather than the latter.

The panto season’s in full swing,
With all the humour that it brings,
With lots of phrases, lots of words,
Exaggerating the absurd.

So in the Commons Mrs May,
At PMQs thought she would say,
A string of well-known panto lines,
To make fun without using rhymes.

But Mr Corbyn wasn’t pleased,
He doesn’t like thus being teased,
So then he thought he’d take his cue,
From Mainwaring like others do.

But he had to adapt a word,
From ‘stupid boy’ to what you heard,
Which some said was beyond the pale,
And more or less ‘stupid female’.

It took him time in his reply,
To work out how to best deny,
The words he used but it was clear,
The lips said what you couldn’t hear.

Lip reading experts all agreed,
‘Woman’ was what he said indeed,
For saying ‘people’ failed to fit,
The movement of his mouth or lip.

So in this quandary what to do?
The Speaker didn’t have a clue,
“Although it might seem quite absurd,
I have to take him at his word.”

Perhaps that’s it, perhaps it’s not,
These people argue such a lot;
This episode might run and run,
So there might be more panto fun.

So when you’re speaking do take care,
Some people might be watching there,
And if you plan to say things rude,
Do try to lip readers elude.

Image – Matt Brown / Flickr


Pooh Bear

It is reported that a street performer in Madrid who dresses up as Winnie the Pooh was asked to stay out of sight as Chinese President Xi Jinping’s motorcade passed so as not to offend the President who some claim bears a close resemblance to the storybook bear.

I’ve talked about this one before,
So some of you should know the score,
And that our old friend Mr Xi,
Thinks that the Pooh Bear looks like he.

In China, therefore, Pooh is banned,
Throughout that quite enormous land,
So Chinese who would read in bed,
Must try with Paddington instead.

But recently Xi went to Spain,
Where most people do not refrain,
From reading Pooh and playing sticks,
Which might well get on Chinese wicks.

One problem they discovered, though,
Was that Xi Jinping planned to go,
Across the square where he could be,
Upset by something he might see.

The sight in question was a man,
There making money if he can,
By dressing up just like Pooh Bear,
And being snapped with tourists there.

And though you might think it absurd,
The police just simply had a word,
And asked if he saw Mr Xi,
Perhaps he might then go for tea.

And so he did, no-one was sad,
For tourists it was not too bad,
And he avoided, absent thus,
A right old diplomatic fuss.



It is reported that a church in The Hague has been running a continuous service for thirty-eight days (so far) to prevent the arrest and deportation of an Armenian family; an old Dutch law forbids the police from entering a church while a religious service is in progress.

Religious people like to go,
To church on Sundays where they know,
There’ll be a service, they can pray,
And when it’s done they come away.

The service lasts an hour, not two,
And longer ones are rather few;
Not even when the King is crowned,
Do people longer stick around,
Though that day, even if you tried,
You likely wouldn’t get inside.

But back to Sundays, what if they,
Did hymns and prayers throughout the day,
And then to give you such a fright,
They carried on throughout the night?

And then the next days, three and four,
With cops now lined up by the door,
You’d wonder why these Dutch police,
Seemed to prevent people’s release.

More days pass by, it’s not a joke,
If you’d known you’d have brought a cloak;
And then somebody there explains
The non-stop preaching and refrains,
Will carry on and woe betide,
The police if they should come inside.

For there’s a law, made long ago,
Which says policemen cannot go,
Into a church while people pray,
No matter they might stay all day.

And that’s what’s happening right now,
Parishioners have made a vow,
To sing and pray for all they’re worth,
So five folk from elsewhere on earth,
Can’t be arrested then expelled,
From Holland where they long have dwelled.

So that’s their plan, we wish them luck,
Hope preachers don’t for words get stuck,
The police might have a while to wait –
It’s only now day thirty-eight.

How will it end? We can but guess.
I hope they’re not in much distress;
They might run out of prayers and song,
The Bible, though, is pretty long!



It is reported that companies sending out Christmas greetings by email may fall foul of the new EU General Data Protection Regulations (GDPR) which forbid the sending of unsolicited emails.

The EU’s meddling knows no bounds,
And people recently have found,
A recent law that has been passed,
Is leaving well-wishers aghast.

Now well-wishers do greetings send,
To folk that they count as their friends,
To wish them luck, good fortune too,
In everything they choose to do.

But one occasion beats them all,
You’ll find the cards on any stall,
And that is Christmas when one sends,
The Season’s Greetings to ones friends.

You can do this with paper card –
No need to write quite like The Bard –
The words can really be quite few,
In fact, just two or three will do.

But people who are more advanced,
In Britain and a few in France,
Think paper cards are rather stale,
And send them instead by email.

Some others say, “That isn’t right,
You’re doing it because you’re tight;
To just send cards now by email,
Is really quite beyond the pale.”

But back to our friend the EU,
Which rather likes to trouble brew,
And their new rule decrees the way,
Our Christmas cards are sent today.

The paper type is still all right,
Including those with verses trite,
But email ones will have to go,
Which for tight people is a blow.

The reason is a bit obscure,
To understand it? I’m not sure,
But I think, though there are some flaws,
The new data protection laws,
To which you now must have regard,
Mean you can’t send an email card.

Why have they done this? Who can say?
It’s just they legislate this way,
For they like to all things control,
Which is what they see as their role.

A lot of us would disagree,
And think that we should all be free,
To send our greetings as we choose,
And not subject to the EU’s,
Diktats which if they’re not a fad,
Are generally pretty bad.

We could, of course, try to object,
Ask if they’ll be more circumspect,
But they will likely just not care,
And wave two fingers in the air!



It is reported that, with the expected failure of Mrs May’s ‘only plan on offer” vote in the Commons, perhaps democracy is about to stage a comeback.

The EU constantly has said:
“The only deal is what you’ve read,
So take or leave, it’s time to choose,
Whichever way, you’re sure to lose.

There can be no change, that’s for sure,
And the agreements will endure,
For many years and till, perhaps,
One of the parties does collapse.

We know your MPs will all vote,
But, really, they have missed the boat;
It matters little what they say,
For we will always get our way.

Democracy is for the birds,
It’s just the speaking of fine words,
But it means nothing now that you,
Are up against us, the EU.

In this regard we have got form,
Now destined to become the norm;
We crushed the Greeks when they’d no cash,
Because their spending was too rash.

The Greeks, as you know, did invent,
Democracy and Parliament,
But that’s of no concern to us,
Although it might give you a buzz.

And now it’s your turn, it makes sense,
Since you’re Mother of Parliaments,
So when we’re done, we prophesy,
No-one will cross us, even try!

So we’ll consolidate our role,
Which is to be in full control,
Of all things European and,
Democracy will soon be canned!”