In The Name of God

 

In the name of the God

 

Poor Alexander Boris de Pfeffel

(AKA Big dog, Bob builder, BoJo,

Boris or Johnson), is not looking well;

Why doesn’t he in the name of God go?

Why’s he still here, in spite of the stories

Re drinking parties, inside number ten,

Attended by many high ranking Tories,

Seemingly flouting, again and again,

Rules implemented by Boris, no less;

Forbidding us all, on pain of a fine,

To hold like parties at any address,

Whilst he and his friends ate cheese and drank wine,

At what he described as a work event!

Yes, that’s what big dog would have us believe;

A party, he says, was not his intent,

And most especially not on the eve,

Of Prince Philip’s funeral, where the Queen,

In solitude, said her final goodbyes;

Oh how embarrassing must it have been,

When Johnson was forced to apologise?

Indeed, he apologised to us all;

He made a mistake and hopes we’ll forgive

Him and his party for not playing ball,

As Skypers mourned on a dead relative.

Why’s he still here? I can’t honestly say;

Though we’re assured, of Sue Gray’s inquiry,

There’s bound to be, at the end of the day,

More dismissal of Cumming’s diary;

And from the shit, right under our noses,

BoJo will come up, smelling of roses.