A Sonnet to Gordon Brown

(With abject apologies to William Shakespeare)


Shall I compare thy deeds with what you say?
Thou art both ugly and incompetent,
The polls shape thy pronouncements of the day,
Thy speech doth spew forth from thy fundament.
Oft-times the Press do catch your lying lines,
Yet to the Beeb your lustre's not yet dimmed;
And though the polls' support for you declines,
Your bumbling, dithering course is still untrimmed.
But thy eternal bullshit does not fade,
Nor lose its stench beneath the public nose,
By true Election will your Fate be made,
Exposing all the lies for which you pose.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
They'll know your deeds that wrecked this fair country.