Fat David

Fat David told such dreadful lies
It took the devil by surprise.
His infant fibs appalled his nurse;
From here he went from bad to worse.
At school, this plump and pampered youth
Showed utter disregard for truth,
And at the university
Was famed for his perversity.
He found employment in PR,
A trade where dreadful liars go far.

But when this job seemed rather tame
He sought a more rewarding game,
Found politics could take him higher —
Ideal for an aspiring liar.
With tricks that were, and weren’t, allowed,
He blagged his way up through the crowd;
He sneaked a seat, and then the bleeder
Lied his way up to party leader.

The previous prime minister
Was mad, and sad, and sinister.
So at the next election Dave
Managed to send him to the grave.
His party’s win was very slim,
Yet this was pretty good for him:
Having to form a coalition
Left him in an ideal position,
His failures masked with facile fibs
Claiming obstruction by the Libs.

And so he had an easy ride
For five years, while he failed and lied.
He said he’d cut our debt: the trouble
Was that it rose to more than double.
He said he’d cut the milling horde
Of migrants, but the numbers soared.
He said he’d keep our forces strong;
Deep army cuts showed that was wrong.
Saying he’d not raise VAT,
For each pound he took 20p.
The plague of quangos, Spads and such
For his weak talents proved too much;
He pledged their numbers down to bring,
But soon they rose like anything.

His most egregious lie of all
Came when there was a growing call
To break the EU’s galling chain
And set our country free again.
As was the British people’s right,
He promised us a plebiscite.
This one he called a ‘cast iron’ vow,
But ‘cast aside’ seems apter now.

Were I to detail all his lies,
This poem would reach monstrous size,
But if there’s one that bothers you,
Feel free to add a line or two.

After five years’ evasive reign,
Election time came round again.
Though we well knew he was a cad,
The other man was twice as bad.
Dave won, but now could not evade
A second promise he had made
To give us, in a year or two,
A chance to vote on the EU.

Finally, desperate and rash,
He blew nine million of our cash
To circulate a dodgy flyer
Of lies forged by a shameless liar.
He claimed that, if we voted Leave,
Things would occur you’d not believe:
The shares would crash, the pound would fall,
Firms would go bankrupt, one and all,
The trains would stop, the banks would fail,
Hospitals be put up for sale,
Our exports to the EU blocked,
And all the gates of hell unlocked.

By now, of course, the public knew
His claims were utterly untrue
— Except, of course, those faithful sheep
Whose little minds were fast asleep.
The leaflet went through every door,
But folk were warier than before,
And many used their common sense,
Posting it back at his expense.

The vote was held, and we got out,
But none of these things came about.
The market rose, and business thrived,
A better era had arrived.
Free of constraint, at last we barred
Migrants intent upon jihad.

There was one man they could not save:
The only casualty was Dave.
His colleagues, trying to be kind.
Said, ‘We’d be glad if you resigned.
And, thinking of the next election,
Don’t pin your hopes on reselection.’
He lost his post, he lost his seat,
And now he’s lying in the street.
His name now seldom comes to light,
But then, we all shout ‘Serve him right!’

© Tachybaptus 2016

(A Cautionary Tale – with acknowledgements to Hilaire Belloc)