I
Here’s an update on the nation’s health,
its future prospects, projected wealth.
Suffice to say, it’s not looking good.
I’d be optimistic, if I could.
The outlook remains bleak in the UK.
All, unfortunately, far from OK.
From the search for growth, there’s still no release;
it’s as elusive as the golden fleece.
Everything is broken; in endless crisis;
it’s all water bills and energy prices.
Not catastrophic, but quite bad enough.
We thought we’d seen the end of all this stuff.
We have no faith in our P.M. Starmer.
It did not take long to pierce his armour.
His weaknesses soon became apparent,
his attempts to hide them quite transparent.
His government limps on, from day to day,
unable, it would seem, to find its way.
We hope, as they vow to work day and night,
they may manage to just do one thing right.
II
Already we are more than eighteen months in;
they don’t seem to know where to even begin.
They promised us revitalisation
yet gave us, instead, soaring inflation.
Their manifesto seemed full of vigour
yet possessed no underlying rigour.
They dangled the baubles of hope and change
yet, to grasp, they were always out of range.
They’ve used every wily trick in the book,
oblivious to how it all might look.
The Prince of Darkness was resurrected,
only to be rudely deselected.
The sad thing is, for a while we felt hope.
Naively, perhaps, we thought they could cope.
Yet their deficiencies are all too stark.
Glaring incompetence has left its mark.
Surely there must be one positive thing,
a note of cheerfulness that I can bring.
It may be some consolation; maybe not.
They’re still not as bad as the last bloody lot.