On the Leaders’ Debate

Well, after the will they
Or won’t they debate,
The State’s leaders and bleeders
Stepped up to the Fates…

Prep Natalie read so she wouldn’t
Forget (and because we must not)
Though her high rising terminal
Threatened to grate. And Integrity
Clegg pimped his pledges to hedge
Between used-to-be-Redder
And Blue-for-the-Few,
While Farage of Myopia
Painted dystopia to anyone
Who could stomach his spew.

But sort-of-Red Ed,
Newly risen from dead,
Showed it wasn’t a fluke
As he put up his dukes,
Teasing Dave I won’t take
Any lectures from you

(Though the Scottish and
Welsh ladies dished one
Or two.)

And Callme, please
(Call me out)
There on his limb, with
Few friends and less chance
Than before of a win, pulled
His faux-concerned face to
Each camera’s place, though
We knew all his fear
Was reserved just for him.

And, naturally, after, in Media’s
‘Spin Room’, the groupies and
Roadies all claimed a team win
Although, finally, everyone had to
Agree that from out of the Hydra
Were three best received:

For the women were brilliant,
Strong and refreshing, had stood
For no messing and come out on top
Because, whether you counted Ed
With them or not, the good Left is
Wot won it and plebeian blessing
Looks ready to shift, having seen
The Right die in its own pile of shit.

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