Inchcocks Further Thoughts on Politicians – in Prose

Further thoughts on Politicians

There’s not many that haven’t had an illicit love affair,

They are experts and tutored in spouting lies and hot air,

They dance around giving answers like Andy Capp or Fred Astaire,

Most Ministers have never worked, or known financial despair,

They fiddle expenses, get a pay rise of 9.6%, that’s so unfair,

They say the IPSA sets their salary now, they declare,

But they set the wage of IPSA of £40,400 per manager…yea?

And grant the IPSA expenses; of this the part-time IPSA are aware,

The rot set in with the crooked nihilistic, nepotistic Tony Blair.

Most are millionaires too, jealous… me? Now where’s me bus pass?

Cameron, and his cronies will never worry about the cost of gas,

Despite his cabinet consisting of a cruel men, an inertial mass,

PMs a group from superior stock, all unethical, bold as brass,

They are not caring, they are cruel, pitiless and crass.

_

They ought to hypnotised into being honest en mass,

They’ve taken away my few benefits, ‘cause I bought a pension,

Paid into it for fifty odd years, worse off now, makes you laugh,

It’s the weak they prey on, ignore, laugh at and harass!

Not for workers or pensioners, warmth, good food or an au pair,

I can’t afford a holiday or even the petrol or train fare,

No BUPA for me, just the ailing NHS hospital care,

The NHS staff are harangued and frustrated, but they really care,

MPs strut and pose, well fed, clothed, looking debonair,

While pensioners are struggling, broke, in utter despair,

They have their earnings from bribes and many an offshore share,

They sit in central heated offices, in their reclining chair,

Of others poverty, frustration and pain, they seem totally unaware!

Bless them. (Spit!)

NCCwdog

By Inchie

73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!

2 comments

  1. Marissa Bergen – Burbank, Ca – This blog is a semi auto-biographical view of my life, beginning as a rocker chick from Brooklyn, moving on to playing in a punk band on New York's Lower East Side, to my current lot in life as a working mother of two, now living in Los Angeles. I love writing because you can be whoever you want to be when you write. Therefore, I would never want to pigeon-hole myself too much in my blog. However, I don't think I will ever deviate too much from what is innately in my blood, that being humor and sarcasm. Recently I have been turning more and more to poetry. I like poetry because it let's you say so much more with so much less, so much more about so little, and it also distances you from the subject matter, making you much less likely to offend someone, which I would probably otherwise do on a daily basis.
    Marissa Bergen says:

    This is why it’s imperative we take over. I am ready to begin my punk rock campaign!

  2. Inchie – Nottingham. UK. – 73 years of age, pretty ugly, short, bald, pot-bellied, in ill health. Decaying physically and morally. Metal ticker, Duodenal Donald, Saccades-Sandra, Arthur Rheumatoid Itis, Hernia Henry, Hard of Hearing Hank, Bad eyesight Boris, Reflux Roger, Peripheral Neuropathy, Nerve Neurotransmitters Not-working Wendy, Bladder Cancer Chris, Stuttering Sandra, Haemorrhoid Harold, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis... there are others, but I've tired myself out, now! Hehehe! Oh, then I had a stroke! Now awaiting Cataract & Glaucoma operations. Tsk! Failures, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops are my Forte... Hehehe! I love making folk smile when I can. TTFNski!
    Inchcock says:

    I think it was Mr Steedenski would said at the last Party Conference in the snug at the Bare-faced Arms: “Together, in the name of punk-rock, Shirl the Girl and Little Inch, we can with our Party of dedicated fanatical antifreeze filled venom ridden urgency, conker Europe… but more, the world will crumble in face of our imaginative, creative manifesto’s implementation the world will shake with fear as it realises the true intent of virtual harmony we can enforce on the world…” At that point he dropped his bottle of 1899 Claret and toppled over smilingly and belched.
    Thought I ‘d just mention it like. TTFN .

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