Achieving Monsterhood and Ogreship
Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson
May his wisdom increase and his girth decrease
Was born his mother’s and his father’s son
With characteristics, some hers and others his.
Neither could claim monsterhood or ogreship
If the boy had ambition in that direction
He’d better learn how to steer his own ship
And not wreck it on the rocks of salvation.
He taught himself to tell lies at a young age
To stick his snot on doors walls and windows
To spit in father Stanley’s beverage
And piss on mummy’s broad beans and marrows
But aged ten he was no more than a useless brat
A far cry from monsterhood or ogreship
And though hard he tried he long remained just like that
All through his boring Eton teenageship.
He’d expected to make progress at Balliol
He had fed and fine-tuned his villainy
Caroused, whored, cheated, and fought with guys and dolls
But of sign of progress there wasn’t any.
This is when he joined the Bullington Club
Hoping for a fruitful life of fun and scandal
And limitless scope to create healthy hubbub
But it only made him one scummy vandal.
Failing to get a first at Oxenford
Was no impediment to quick advancement
For the entitled man who mixed with dukes and lords
Soon he was the Telegraph’s man of the moment
At the Brussels desk creating wilful mischief
Inventing headlines and copying lies
Not always picked up by his editor-in-chief
Which saw him thrive and prosper and rise and rise.
But slippery monsterhood still eluded him
He needed serious misdemeanours on his card
Having only earned medals for plagiarism
But to gain monsterhood he would strive very hard
He became master of the use of omission
Developed to a t the use of the weasel word
Perfected Exaggeration,and diminution
Was a deserved recipient of the Golden Turd.
Born a wanker he became an adulterer
Happily sowing his seeds all over the place
To a good few babies becoming the father
Denying that his behaviour was a disgrace
He and his best friend planned some gangster-style beating
On the person of a hostile journo who dared
Accuse Darius the etonian puppy of cheating
Laughing it off as a prank when the facts were bared
As Mayor he wasted rate payer’s money
On grotesque vanity projects and schemes
And preposterous Johnsonian baloney
Impractical and nonsensical pipe dreams
But monsterhood or ogreship were still unearned
As is known, many are called but few are chosen
He began to despair but some lessons he’d learnt
He was not one to hesitate to cozen.
He won Brexit following it with the premiership
But you need at least one death on your conscience
And it would seem the prize is now within his grip.
He’s now within inches of the full monster licence.
He will owe this accolade to the pandemic.
He lacked the talent for the role of prime min’ster
The job requires more than a few gimmicks
He never had any patience to register
Details and small print, a joke’s not always enough
His credo, stick some plaster over the blister
And then have recourse to bluster and bluff
Until he’s rescued by an adult with common sense
One day he’s all for herd immunity
The next day he vows to follow the science
He changes his mind in blissful serenity
To lockdown or not to lockdown that is the question
But first he needs to know what the voters think
With in mind the next general election
He’s willing to take the country to the brink
Though scientific advisers say shut the town
He’d rather see dead bodies piling up
Sky high than order another fucking lockdown
The newspapers did not make that thing up
His approach to the current calamity
Was always bound to be hazy and erratic
As he never saw the pandemic with clarity
One day a lax game-plan the next more drastic
Britain narrowly missed out on the bronze
But fourth out of two hundred countries
Is quite an achievement he reckons
Must not mistake the forest for the trees.
One-eight of a million deaths, half preventable
Making him a fit and proper blackguard
On the strength of this achievement execrable
To become the recipient of the award
He has worked for earning the desired status
And as a result it is only fair to confer
On him what he richly deserves, the prize portentous
“Rise Sir Ogre de Pfeffel Monster
