He’s got some front, flanked as ever
By the regulation two flags,
He parrots Allegra’s smooth words,
Sticks to the script, stays on message,
Takes full responsibility
For all his governments actions.
Sets out to convince us of their
Hard work since start of pandemic.
Appears contrite, seriously
Mouths words of sorrow for the dead,
More than one hundred thousand dead,
But he doesn’t say he’s sorry.
No apologies for those missed
Cobra meetings back at the start,
Nor his dithering decisions,
Herd immunity fiasco,
The naked braggadocio
As he strode though parliament,
Whilst he ignored social distance,
How he caught Coronavirus,
Then spread it through his office staff,
Who, ad infinitum, passed on
To unknown legions pre lockdowns.
Cygnus report findings ignored,
Profits before health, business first,
Ignore warnings until too late.
Now new spad lies are spun each day,
Thus, his annus terribilis
Ruined, glorious Brexit
Dreams turned into deepest nightmare
Brings him to this sad point in time.
Please send in removal lorry,
Get him gone, for he ain’t sorry.

Harry Rogers, in The Red Bedroom, 28th January 2021.