The Laughing Conman

Image from creative commons
(with apologies to Charles Penrose & a smidge of Orwell)

I know a fat old conman,
he’s always on TV,
blundering and bluffing
after pints of G&T.

Can’t keep it in his trousers,
he really is a treat.
He couldn’t lie straight in bed
where he lives in Downing Street.

(Chorus of privileged guffawing)

He laughed off secret parties,
while we were all locked down.
Upon his entitled face
you’ll never see a frown.

He never can stop lying,
don’t think he’s ever tried,
he promised us our country back
then lied and lied and lied.

(More privileged guffawing)

His residence is full up
of all his boyhood chums,
they gather round a table
once a week to chew their gums.

He once came up with a policy
but can’t remember when,
but that’s alright, when it goes wrong
he’ll blame it all on them.

(yet more privileged guffawing)

So if you chance to meet him
in some obscene restaurant,
where the price of a coffee
is enough to send you gaunt

he’ll be quaffing all the champers,
and a jeroboam of scotch,
shake him by his fat old hand
but be sure to check your watch.

(yet more privileged guffawing, mixed with the sound of a boot stamping on your face, forever)

Harry Gallagher

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