04 July 2019
The Boriad – Book 1
Not, in fact,
Like great Achilles, Boris Johnson
from his tent full armoured sprang.
No more skulking in the shadows,
now’s the time to upward man.
His Patroclus, the Raab Extremis,
in his borrowed armour strove;
but died before the Hunter’s fury
(assisted by the darts of Gove).
Till then his care for the Borides
(should he know just who they are)
and fair Carrie, her couch despoiled,
kept Boris from the toils of war.
But Jove the thunderer in his heaven,
knew that this would never do.
If foul Remain’s to be confounded
heroes must as heroes do.
So he sent the lovely Laura
Kuenssberg, the Minervan maid;
In her handbag was his order.
“Off your arse!” is what it said.
Up got Boris newly armoured
sword of bombast, shield of froth;
to engage with Marr the wise man,
arbiter of lies and truth.
Can he defeat the famous Hunter
when with pledge in hand they meet?
Or three times round the walls of Brexit
will he be dragged in dire defeat?
See next week
(After Pope – by about 300 years)