Dylyn the dog will run free at Chequers
Until summers end, so Johnson believes.
Even now he clings on to the trappings,
Unable to relinquish the dummy
Of Prime Ministerial privelege.
In his fevered mind he still has power,
Places total blame on all and sundry,
Sees no reason for any contrition,
Likens own supporters to animals,
With herd mentality the driving force
That pushed him out the door of number ten,
Fails to accept responsibility.
Now all the talk is of his legacy,
Shredders are buzzing, whitewash before tea

Harry Rogers, in the yellow room, 7th July 2022.

Spend our money on your war
Forget about the poor
Pass another nasty law
We all see what you’re for
Now you’re halfway out the door
And lies flow more and more
Everybody knows the score
You’ve become such a bore
Your ideas a running sore
Leave now we all implore
The pound falls through the floor
Feels like nineteen eighty four
Nothing left to restore
Snake no longer guarantor
You, rotten to the core
Should swim now to distant shore
Slip away power whore
Never owt like this before
You who saw work as chore
Immorality galore
Still not gone? Fetch a saw
We’ll cut you loose whilst you snore,
Get thee gone, smirk no more
No-one loves you anymore.

Harry Rogers in the yellow room, July 6th 2022.