The Brexiteer Jacob Rees-Mogg,/
A would-be right-wing demagogue,/
Declares predilections/
For border inspections/
That leave most observers agog.///
The Brexiteer Jacob Rees-Mogg,/
A would-be right-wing demagogue,/
Declares predilections/
For border inspections/
That leave most observers agog.///
A hard Brexit impact report/
On stuff we routinely import/
Includes Danish sperm/
Which studies confirm/
Withdrawal may cause to fall short.///
In fundraising Labour’s ahead,/
Securing a whole heap of bread/
From those who are living,/
While most donors giving/
Conservatives money are dead.///
A man representing as brief/
A future Commander-in-chief/
Broke rules on elections,/
But on whose directions?/
The candidate’s – Hail to the Thief!///
A Tory jumped out of a plane/
And pulled at the toggle in vain -/
Though Brexiteer Steve/
Implored it to leave/
His parachute chose to remain.///
Look, he survived, OK? I’m not that callous!
A privately-run UK jail/
Was deemed a complete epic fail,/
The prison in Birmingham/
It seems is confirming ’em/
Unsuitable assets for sale.///
Slightly tweaked the third and fourth lines from the Twitter version to aid clarity. But perhaps the last line misfires a bit anyway. Privatised prisons aren’t sold as such, I guess, just their management is contracted out.
An ancient Egyptian hard cheese/
Was found in the tomb of Ptahmes,/
But though there’s allure/
To cheese so mature,/
Be warned, it may carry disease.///
A judge in the Netherlands said/
A colander worn on the head/
To worship spaghetti/
Is silly and petty -/
The Lord’s not in pasta, but bread!///
*headline nicked from the Guardian
As I’m sure you’ve all clocked, the last line is intended to contrast the doctrines of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster with the rival carb-worship of some Christian sects which believe bread becomes the body of Christ. A bit truncated perhaps, but try summing up transubstantiation in eight syllables!
Farewell Queen of Soul, RIP/
A true R&B VIP,/
So let’s give Aretha,/
Great music bequeather, Our R-E-S-P-E-C-T.///
I am grateful to my nearest and dearest for the helpful advice that ‘Ibiza’ was not really a relevant reference despite being apparently the only available rhyme.
Some people in Paris are dissing/
Urinals erected for pissing/
For while any beau/
Can geau with the fleau,/
For belles, something similar’s missing.///