Prime Minister Burnham: commons image
By Chris Norris
Eeny-meeny-miny-moe,
Catch McSweeney by the toe;
If he hollers, don’t let go –
He’ll run to Mandy, Josh & Co!
He’ll tell you: ‘Had to do it, Bro,
Two crafty shoo-ins in a row,
But that’s my specialty, you know,
To fix which way the ill winds blow’.
If we’d just held it fast, that toe,
Not left McSweeney loose to throw
His weight around and raise the dough
From those who deemed it ‘what we owe
As Friends of Israel’, there’d be no
Such smooth succession, no such flow
Of corporate cash and quid pro quo
To quiet the doubts as corpse-heaps grow.
Easy-peasy-miny-moe,
Their teeny-weeny doubts they stow,
Morgan and Josh, make friend of foe,
Dump Keir, have Andy front the show.
Then who’s to tell the CEO
Of Elbit Systems ‘why not go
And stuff yourself?’, when ‘signed below’
Keeps him and Gaza’s skies aglow.
McSweeney runs his psyops so
Those awkward questions à propos
The Mandy mob (whom he’ll kowtow
And grovel to) won’t greatly slow
Things down since, in each to-and-fro,
There’ll always be some dark tableau
Where Morgan’s role’s no cameo
But Fixer sans Portfolio.
