The unrepentant vagabond

There were no parties at Downing street.

We followed guidelines when we would meet.

There were no parties at Downing Street.

The birthday cake swept me off my feet


Wash up meetings always have drinks,

to loosen us up as we’re trying to think.

To suggest my entrance made it a party,

is above all things rather foolhardy.


What’s that I hear, photos to follow?

With me stuffing my face, holding the bottle?

I just want to say, I misunderstood that

the rules were for all, not just those in the hood.


The lefties and greens are shouting ‘Resign’

for having a drink-I’ve committed a crime.

Like all jobs I’ve had, I’ll need to be sacked;

dragged out kicking and screaming, but you won’t do that.


Oh no, these spineless creeps sitting behind

will do as they’re told with a 3 line whip, if you mind.

I am your worse nightmare, it’s really happening;

democracy’s dead, well from where I’m standing.


Who does the archbishop think he is,

telling me and Priti that we’re taking the piss?

If we want to smokescreen with a dead cat story

we’ll do it, and we certainly won’t be sorry.


I’ve told so many lies, that you can’t keep up

with figuring out what is truth, or a bluff.

That money was not wasted at Eton-

for in a debate, I will not be beaten.


I’m the best and I wish you would all catch up,

realise until 2024, with me you’re stuck.

My so called rivals are in quite a tizzy-they’re

stuck where they are, and I keep them busy.


That way, they can’t do me much harm-

when they try, I release yet another yarn.

Tax avoidance, non dom status and things like that

keep them in their place, not where I am sat.


I am the boss, and I won’t be removed

by punks or drunks or cloven hooves.

I hold all the cards that can sink the critics

in my party, the government-don’t forget it.

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