Sunday 28 June 2020

A sonnet I wrote about three years ago, with modern relevance



Sonnet 17
They took the left hand lane to Lala Land:
smugness combined with nothing in the shops
except some pilchards from the Red Sea, canned;
the countryside all mobs and failed crops;
some hamlets pimped in the Potemkin style
with pansyons for foreign Fabians,
all useful idiots, easily beguiled
if kept away from stuff involving nuns.
On TV, specious masquerading cant,
the Sorbonne logic of the killing field
delivered in a truly epic rant.
As revolutions will, this one congealed
into a dirty bureaucratic grey
and a parade upon the first of May.

I found this hilarious Swiftian Modest Proposal on Twitter this morning, courtesy of someone calling him/herself Northern Variant

As a Labour MP, I'm often chased down the road by very vocal Labour supporters. I welcome this level of passionate engagement. It's ...