We wake to fangs and lowered eyes
and a few new
sound-bites for breakfast.
Davie.orc sees true
that five more years
of effing tories
call for a sugary word
or two to sweeten the toad
of his venomous victory.
“Talk ‘fairness’ chaps,” he glows
to his new cabinet.
“Sound all nice again.”
Round the corner, IDS
slides his tongue between his lips
and heads for a door marked
“Poor People”
his sack replete
with instruments of hurt.
“Now go to work,” whispers Davie.orc
“All those promises we made
have to be paid
for, gottit ?
Make it neat, ok ?
And discrete, ok ?
But each finely dressed
Tory dinner-guest
needs a return
for filling our purse
so fatly. Let us show
ample gratitude
for that selfless support.
Off you go, dear IDS
and stop at naught.”