It is reported that the Prime Minister’s speech to the Conservative Party Conference did not go down well, being interrupted by an imposter brandishing a fake P45, a coughing fit, and a collapsing slogan sign.

Three cheers, perhaps, for Mrs May,
Who gave a speech just yesterday;
She gave it – glad it wasn’t me –
In face of great adversity.

So, first, some goon comes up on stage,
There brandishing a single page,
Which someone had tried to contrive,
To look like a P45.

“Why, thanks,” she said, “I know just who,
That’s for, if you’ll allow me to;
I’ll Send it, after you have gone,
To that old guy in Islington.

I’m sure he’ll need it more than me,
For he is more than sixty-three,
So thanks for coming here today,
And now you can be on your way.”

She turned, then, to resume her speech,
With voice now sounding like a screech,
Because, although she’s not so old,
She’d turned up with a dreadful cold.

The coughing started, it’s not good,
You cannot speak well like you should,
But with some corporation pop,
She carried on and didn’t stop.

She got through to the very end,
Though coughing she could not forfend,
Then as a cheer was raised by all,
Some lettering fell off the wall.

It was a slogan, or had been,
On which she had been rather keen,
But what was left did not allude,
To anything so very rude.

So that was lucky, in the end,
The less that’s said, the less to mend;
But with the interruptions there,
The journalists seemed not to care,
What were her words nor what was meant,
Expressing her future intent.

So that was it, she’d got a cough,
They had enough at which to scoff,
But should we judge her as PM,
Because she had to say, “Ahem”?



Catalonia map

It is reported that Spanish police violently tried to stop a referendum on Catalan independence from Spain which had been declared illegal by the Spanish courts.

The Catalan folk have long said,
That their small enclave on the Med,
Should from Spain independent be,
So that its people can be free.

They’ve had this view a long long time,
As I am telling you in rhyme,
But the Government in Madrid,
Has always tried to keep a lid,
On any separatist dissent,
And never on this would relent.

So when the Catalans declared,
That people’s views should now be aired,
By voting in favour or not,
You might think it had lost the plot.

It blocked the voting in the court,
To try to take away support,
Then when the people didn’t cease
It sent in riotous police.

The police with a heavy hand,
Said, “Voting here has just been banned.
You have to disperse very quick,
Or else we’ll hit you with our sticks.”

They didn’t go, so some were bashed,
As voters and police then clashed,
And injured ones went pretty fast,
To where they sold Elastoplast.

They got patched up as you could see,
From images on the TV,
And police tactics could not hide,
As pictures quickly went worldwide.

The EU was asked for its view,
But words it uttered were so few,
That people started to conclude,
That in this Inter-Spanish feud,
They thought the separatists should pay,
But didn’t really want to say.

We don’t know what will happen next,
With everybody pretty vexed;
The whole wide world now waits agog,
And you can read it in my blog.

Image – Mutxamel, subido por Rastrojo / Wikimedia commons


Nuclear button

It is reported that Donald Trump and Kim Jong-un are continuing to trade personal insults, each with a finger on the button.

Two overweight men – that means fat –
Neither that much worth looking at,
Are trading insults day by day,
And these are some things that they say.

Trump calls Kim ‘Little Rocket Man’,
And warns Kim Jong-un that he can,
Eliminate him with great ease,
So not to stock up on the cheese.

At this Kim did not stay silent,
Said Mr Evil President,
And then called him in that regard,
A mentally deranged dotard.

And for the insult Trump had made,
Kim unleashed then a big tirade;
Said in return for his wisecrack,
The USA he would attack.

How this will pan out no-one knows,
They really might both come to blows,
But insults now are not the thing –
And they are so embarrassing!


Barbers somb scissors

It is reported that Boris Johnson has written a major article setting out views of Brexit which are different from the Prime Minister’s while Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un are still lobbing deadly threats and insults at each other.

Some days ago, our Boris J,
Decided it was time to say,
What he thought on this Brexit thing;
So as he saw it he would bring,
Some clarity of word and thought,
With p’rhaps more detail than he ought.

He’d not checked out his words that day,
With his boss – that’s Theresa May,
And so confusion was thus sown,
In case he wanted Ms May’s throne.

Confusion reigned for several days,
Some politicians in a haze,
Until someone said, “With that hair,
He likely does it for a dare.”

He’s not the only one like that:
There’s that Korean who’s too fat;
He launches rockets I’ve heard tell,
And has a strange hairdo as well.

And he is always locking horns,
With that man who himself adorns,
With dolly birds and gilded ware,
And, too, of course that head of hair.

Some people say it is glued on,
While others say it’s just a con,
But if a rocket gets too near,
The answer might at last be clear.

So could bad hair now be the link,
Which propels these three to the brink?
It’s better that we know than not,
In case all three have lost the plot.



It is reported that a member of the Scottish Parliament has complained that the tea being there served is supplied by an English tea company rather than a Scottish one.

Both Scots and English like their tea,
It all comes from across the sea,
But up there in the northern land,
It is important where the hand,
That blends the tea is situate –
For Scots MPs at any rate.

For some have recently found out –
And, really, there is little doubt –
That the hand writ hereinbefore,
Is ’bout a hundred miles times four,
From Edinburgh where most of they,
Don’t even like to drink Earl Grey.

So they say, “Well, this will nae do!
It does nae make a decent brew.
And we should just use local tea,
Which has the proper pedigree.

We should support the local blend,
And it may then mean that we spend,
Less on our tea than we do now;
And it’s, of course, a Scottish vow,
Not to expend more than is right,
Which is why people think we’re tight!”

Image – Jeremy Keith / Flickr


Pub comic cartoon

It is reported that Nicola Sturgeon has set out her programme for government in Scotland which may include a ‘citizen’s income’; free money all round.

Miss Sturgeon and her cronies are,
Determined to be popular,
But since her last proposal failed,
Her plans have now all been derailed.

She really did run out of luck,
With independence came unstuck,
And then with such consummate ease,
She lost a half of her MPs.

So now she promises folk cash,
Which may turn out as rather rash,
For everybody would then get,
Thousands of pounds a year – that’s net.

This would apply to rich and poor,
With adults getting that bit more,
Than children, relatively bleak,
On only fifty pounds a week.

What would they do with this new wealth?
We don’t know but perhaps with stealth,
They might stock up on fags and beer,
Polluting then the atmosphere.

And who would pay is none too clear,
But though Miss Sturgeon shows no fear,
If she tries to the English tap,
She might find that’s a handicap!

Image – norbet1 / Flickr


Boris Johnson 1

It is reported that the French President, Emmanuel Macron, has run up make-up bills totalling £24,000 during his first three months in office and that his predecessor, Francois Hollande, used to pay his personal barber £99,000.

The President of France, Macron,
Acts sometimes like Napoleon,
But now one habit that he brings,
Is more like that of Bourbon kings.

For I’m now able to reveal,
That make-up he’s used to conceal,
His imperfections plus advice,
Has come in at a pretty price.

In three months, it seems, he has spent,
So much it could cause discontent,
For in this time he’s spent around,
Some six and twenty thousand pound.

So Monsieur Macron must take care,
For with Bake Off back on the air,
It really would be a mistake,
To tell the peasants to eat cake!

But make-up’s not the half of it,
For President Hollande, who quit,
Paid nine and ninety thousand pound,
So that his barber would come round,
To trim his hair in case of need –
A salary that’s high indeed.

Now Macron’s hair gets trimmed as well,
But at this stage we cannot tell,
How much he pays, nor yet who to,
In fact, nobody has a clue.

But we can offer him advice:
In England where he’s been just twice,
The Brexit bill has caused dismay,
And so they can’t afford to pay,
For make-up, barbers, things like that,
And so they either wear a hat,
Or, in the case of Boris J,
Some sort of scarecrow they portray.

His hairdo really comes quite cheap,
Is good by day and while asleep,
And it shows that he’s very wise,
And willing to economise.

So if a revolution comes,
With peasants armed with swords and guns,
Boris will have no need to hide –
They’ll think he’s on the other side!

Image – Andrew Parsons / iImages / Flickr