May in March

Tachybaptus, Going Postal

A Cautionary Tale
with apologies to Hilaire Belloc

The chief defect of Mrs May
Was talking tough, then giving way.
When, after manifold disasters
As the Home Secretary, her masters
Conspired to raise her to PM,
Her gaffes astonished even them.
‘Brexit means Brexit’ was her cry;
Never was heard a greater lie.
They’d plotted to keep me and you
Under the thumb of the EU,
But even they were unprepared
To see how ill their creature fared.
She’d all the high cards in her hand,
But failed to play them as they planned.
We bought so much from BMW
(Dear reader, I need hardly trouble you
By naming all the other firms)
We could dictate the strongest terms
To keep our market open to them;
An import tariff would undo them.
We could reject all immigration
From every failing third world nation.
If we said No, there was no doubt
Our choppy seas would keep them out —
Seas that were full of teeming fish,
All ours if we expressed that wish.
But in her hand the strongest card
Was, if a decent deal was barred,
That we would simply up and go,
And use the WTO.
But, seated at the EU table,
Theresa May was quite unable
To play a single rubber right:
She just gave in without a fight.
When Barnier or Juncker scolded,
The wretched woman simply folded.
First she agreed to toe the line
And pay a heavy exit fine
(Whose size increases every day
To British taxpayers’ dismay);
Then she allowed huge immigration
Into our overcrowded nation;
And, in a final crushing blow
She let our fishing waters go.
While stumbling through this sorry dance,
Somehow Theresa found a chance
Not only to be rude to Trump
But to give Vladimir the hump,
And bang up several people too
For saying what all know is true.
To save her face, the feeble hag’s
Now declared war on plastic bags.
She thought they’d be a foe she’d beat,
But even here she’ll find defeat.

© Tachybaptus 2018