Sonnet 16. Insipid, Lamentable Jeremy, Odour Issues, and Helix Folt the Conservative

Here's a Petrarchan sonnet which I wrote a good 18 months ago, but which seems a little bit more relevant than in those halcyon days before the Red Menace became quite so immanent.

Sonnet 16

Insipid, lamentable Jeremy

gird thou thy loins in shell suit of a beige

appropriate for this heroic age,

and thus accoutred smite the Pharisees.

Compassed was Sir de Montfort all about

with lounging scribes, makers of likenesses,

and gentlemen from the Daily Express,

and Watson: spectacles, disposed to shout.

Insipid, lamentable Jeremiah,

Milne’s glove puppet, who fists you as you flail.

Your praises shall be warbled by no choir,

instead your epitaph’s “utter betrayal”.

Who protest’s luxuries has long enjoyed,

is by burdens of duty soon annoyed.

I'm also delighted and relieved to be able to say that I've finished Odour Issues. I'm spending the next couple of weeks giving it a final read-through before publishing the first Kindle edition. This could probably happen within the next few days, were I not simultaneously engaged in some fairly extensive landscaping and wall rebuilding at home. I'm also looking forward to starting work on my next project, my George Eliot-parodying Rees-Mogg satire Helix Folt the Conservative.