We had this referendum, there wasn’t any doubt
As simple as a coin you toss, you’re either in or out.
The damage to the union was distant and unclear
The shortages, the extra cost dismissed as Project Fear.
We’ve lost our old identity, let’s sing a different song
Of times when we were confident before it all went wrong.
No deal, according to Michael Gove, was not the aim in view
But we’ve had enough of waiting so it’s time for something new.
We’ve faffed around for three years now, no ending is in sight
For the ERG, the DUP there’s nothing that’s quite right.
We’re looking for a hero to cut through all the crap
And Tory members are convinced they’ve found the perfect chap.
It’s true about a third of them have only joined this year
But don’t look back, full speed ahead, the future’s bright and clear.
A man who sticks to deadlines, who looks you in the eye
And pledges that he’ll sort the mess “Just do it. Do or die.”
Those who had warned against him seemed swiftly to forget
Amnesia can be induced by a seat in cabinet.
Right-wingers have the team they want, to out-Farage Farage;
There’s no room here for ditherers, Dom Cummings is in charge.
Those heady days in August when he had the perfect plan
And Boris owned the airwaves, we knew he was the man.
Those endless spending promises, the magic money tree
We’re moving into Neverland as soon as we are free.
But now we’re in September and the sky is cold and black
Maybe the future is in doubt ‘cos Parliament is back.
A cunning ruse could thwart them – Balmoral, separate flights
Prorogue the bastards for a month, stuff democratic rights.
Though Downing Street insisted “Prorogue? there’s not a chance”
We now know this was carefully planned a fortnight in advance.
He waves away the protests, let Labour do their worst;
“It’s nothing to do with Brexit: the Queen’s Speech must come first.”
Dom Cummings is insatiable, committed heart and soul
He’s terrorising ministers, he’s taking back control.
An aide of Sajid Javid’s is escorted to the door
A policeman told to march her out – so what was all that for?
This is the crucial showdown and it’s made crystal clear
A rebel who opposes him has kiboshed their career.
That’s Hammond, Clarke and Stewart, and Nicholas Soames as well
Is Churchill’s grandson really going to rot in Tory hell?
There’s Philip Lee, appalled by this, he can’t take any more;
The Lib Dems are a better bet. He walks across the floor.
Rees-Mogg says Doctor Nicholls is trying to start a scare
But he’s relaxed, he’s lying down, you’d think he doesn’t care.
Cocooned within a fantasy, some glorious Brexit heaven -
When he wakes up the government have lost by twenty-seven.
The PM says they’ve scuppered talks, he’s cut off at the knees
But his magic new proposals are a secret no-one sees.
He needs a snap election, to help his power grow
And Labour always wanted one but now they’re saying no.
How can an opposition that never gets it right
Discover nerve they seemed to lack, mysteriously unite?
He’s can’t believe the rebels survived his acid test
How can they see a principle beyond self-interest?
He mocks that Corbyn’s chicken, who changes with the weather
But this is an alliance that somehow holds together.
Johnson’s head is in his hands. They’re cheating. It’s a crime
He’s running out of members and he’s running out of time.
He looks at the alternatives, the problem only grows.
Proroguing? Cancelling the whip? Whose bright ideas were those?
Aggression is the keynote, the atmosphere is rough
And Boris’ younger brother decides he’s had enough.
Rees-Mogg gets back at Nicholls, “Like Wakefield – MMR ?”
Now even Boris Johnson thinks that Jacob’s gone too far.
One Nation Tories are concerned. They write to him to say
Splitting the party isn’t smart so find another way.
And “Corbyn is a big girl’s blouse”, “Cameron’s a girly swot”?
It goes down well at Bullingdon but statesmanlike it’s not.
Tammanjeet Singh Dbesi has a point he needs to make.
“Bank-robbers” “letter-boxes” are a dangerous mistake.
Attacks on women have increased and these jokes are to blame;
MPs applaud the passion, but Johnson feels no shame.
He might do something sometime, but Labour are much worse.
The notion that he got it wrong is simply, well, perverse.
The great campaigner’s desperate, he swears he’s good to go
But nobody will trust him so still the answer’s no.
Police cadets at Wakefield are forced to stand and wait
When Johnson’s due to give a speech; he comes an hour late.
The topic should be policing but he has to scratch that itch
Sooner than ask for more delay he’d choose death in a ditch.
He rambles on regardless until one starts to faint
And finally he gets the hint. Dignified it ain’t.
This line-up’s later criticised by an irate senior cop;
“We are a public service, not just a photo-op.”
When Boris was a youngster he could predict his fate.
He’d be another Churchill, a future head of state.
“King of the World !” he shouted, ‘cos power must be bliss
But no-one ever told him that it would be like this.