Things I Would Put In Room 101

Children who eat the bogies they pick Owners who let dog's poo lie People who use shop doors to be sick Horror movies where innocents fry Litterbugs fouling our forests with tins Bathers who pee in the pool Shoppers with trollies that knobble your shins Big dogs that drown you with drool Mingers who spit monster gobs in the street Passwords you need to remember Pebbles in shoes that get under your feet Screaming Rock bands you'd like to dismember Faeces that float, while refusing to flush Cats miewing at three in the morning Coachroaches, spiders, I'm itching to crush Adverts too long and intruding Pooches that hump your leg you'd like to hoof Ketchup that drops on your clothes Waiters who're snooty and ultra aloof Sunbathers, (the fat they expose) . Things I would put into Room 101… Technology that I can't use Ageing… my framework all creaky and done Who cares for some old fart's views? Mr Lie-a-lot In New York City there was born A blue eyed boy with hair like corn, Ambition, high's the Matterhorn; Followed the hounds with hunting horn Sweet little master Lie-a-lot; His British parents travelled wide At Eton, Cambridge, he'd reside There, rugby, cricket, power supplied In spades to Mr Lie-a-lot. He was the Mayor of London town. A journalist, of some renown His louche affairs made others frown That wearer of the Classics gown That silver tongued man Lie-a-Lot Politically he climbed the towers Of Parliament, of plaudits, showers Fell on him. He unlocked the bowers Of maidens, the fair Lie-a-lot. He drove through Brexit, that great whale, Till the pandemic trimmed his sail, Struck down, that striving Alpha male, Rose up, pushed on his vaccine trail Did cronies gain from Lie-a-lot? Then Dominic Cummings, Mr Weasily Broke Covid rules, on TV, beastly Old whoppers he told all too easily Protected by friend Lie-a-lot Mop headed Boris loved to play: In Number ten, his hide away For parties boozy, working, gay, Brought accusations night and day Brought down the house of lie-a-lot At those who obeyed Covid law Missed funerals, birthings, felt the gnaw Of lockdown, did this man of straw Guffaw? This slippery Lie-a-lot? Then sleaze on sleaze he did condone, A final reckoning to postpone No bluff or bluster could atone And so the deck of cards, oe'r-thrown Slipped Boris, Mr Lie-a-lot Now nurse, care worker, all who vote, At ballot boxes, by the throat Will grip all cheaters, then demote Those, truth dealers they will promote, Not such as Mr Lie-a-lot His rise to fame was meteoric, At first this charmer was euphoric…. As Hamlet said ‘Alas Poor Yorick' What rises plunges down, dramatic The doom of Mr. Lie-a-lot The end unravelled utterly, As resignations finally, Ousted the shifty travesty, Who in truth's scales failed miserably RIP Mr Lie-a-lot.