Campaign Leapfrog

A two world wars and one World Cup brigade
And an old boys who cry wolf network
Play crazy campaign leapfrog
And troops of twerking groupies meme
And the confused are busy getting lost
And trapped between, the horrified are keening
At the vaults that share a cheapness with its cost

Here lies truth

Why vie for facts:
The very stuff
All answers lack,
No matter how you kid.
Ply your realities instead –
There’s loads on show,
Although, you know
That’s all you ever did.

The spoof you back
Is proof you hedge
A hunch that sows
Inside your head –
Synaptic slack
That grows to rid
The evidence
Whence truth has fled.

Poor Iain Duncan Smith

Oh, Iain Duncan Smith,
Poor you,
Being bullied by “spin, smears and threats”
Aw, boo hoo

Distressed by gratuitous scaremongering, are we?
Pressed your sensitive button, have they?

Feeling threatened by the consequences of
Making “desperate and unsubstantiated” claims?
Has your penchant for the “biblical” been usurped?
Ha! Do you see now, how the irony works?

Oh, diddums
Why so weak?
Can’t you cope?
Stiffen those sinews: where there’s Life, there’s hope,
Remember?
Try harder. Pull yourself together, man.
More smiling; less shuffling
More effort, please.

Do you need a hand up? Try one of those
“Series of highly questionable dossiers”
You cling to. They’re the new hand out,
Available at all recommended public service outlets

A team of scapegoat therapists will draw you up a plan
Happy to strip you of any reasonable doubt;
Coach you, what you must and can
And medicate you meek, messiah man.

I’m a little despot

Our democracy is in distress
And David Cameron does his best
To deal us all a dreadful mess:

I’m a little despot
There’s no doubt
Here lies shambles
Here’s to clout
When division’s roiling
Hear my louts
Split us up and core us out

I’m a special despot
Yes, new blue
Here’s what neoliberals do
I can turn my shambles into a rout
Whip you up and core you out

I’m a little despot
King of snouts
Here’s a tangle
North to South
When the tangle’s boiling
Hear me spout
It’s up to you to sort it out

I’m a special despot
Silent ‘clue’
There’s what who you know can do
I can turn my reason inside out
Tip me up, I might spill out

I wish it didn’t matter

I wish it didn’t matter
how identity is packed
and that the psyche frackers
stacked upon their borderline obsessions
would retract because the boundaries
they’re adding are just value-cladding traps.

How I wish it didn’t matter
who I am or where I was,
since I can give myself the slip
as quick as sticking to my spot
because, as often as I am,
as much, I’m also often not
and, well, I wouldn’t give a jot
except there seems to be a lot
who need to squash identity
into a fixed and clearly labelled box.

But I wish it didn’t matter
if I’m fabled, vintage, English rose
or fifty-seven beans of British stock.
And I wish I didn’t have to choose
which union do we lose or fuse:
the Kingdom or the European bloc.

For I do not want my space to shrink
nor see it brought to its own brink
and I do not like being made to think
about which bits of me I dare forego
– not just to satisfy those who,
no matter what the cost, do swear
that they are better placed to surely know.

No: the world is small in kind enough
without this categoric guff.

Dear Club Europe,

We realise you must see us a bunch of uppity, self-righteous carpers when it comes to our membership of the European Club. Please do forgive us, for we are mostly misinformed of what we think we know and ignorant of the remainder. You could say that we honestly don’t know what is good for us and we find we must beg your patience for just a little longer.

Of course, we accept that the inner circle is in a bit of a pickle and we recognise that, what with all the meddling and endless machinations, your hastily knocked up magic trick means you will have your hands full for some time to come. Accordingly, we wish to express our regret that our general whining and non-committal attitude is terribly inconvenient for you and we ask that you make allowances for our sense of irony and comic timing.

It is clear, however, that, between the Magic Zone and the Outer Rim, our Club is struggling rather, with its identity and purpose and we urge you to consider the possibility that we might yet have a point. Furthermore, we would like to suggest the distinct possibility that we are not alone and that other members, of all zones and circles, would also like to iron out some quirks. To this end and, in light of the fact that ‘tits-up’ is the current European reality; it seems that squandering this opportunity would be an utterly tragic waste of a reality check.

We look forward to your response and have full confidence in our mutual endeavours, going forward.

Yours, maybe faithfully,

Some of the UK.

P.S. We are reassured by the invaluable and indomitable enthusiasm of those jolly helpful and insightful chaps in Washington and, naturally, we welcome their objective contribution as an enhancement to the spirit and atmosphere of unfettered cooperation.