By RW | November 13, 2007
Bottler Broon, came to toon,
Elected by Curcoddy.
But to be fair, wur Tony Blair,
Who lured him south to London.
Then they sat round, to found a scheme,
To overcome Westminster.
With able help, it must be said,
From Mandelson called Peter.
Now look to me said Peter M,
Remember this prediction.
For I will win, unlike Jim,
The next gen’ral election.
And also listen to this caveat,
About my own ambition.
Despite initials P and M,
That is not my direction.
So let us make a cunning plan,
And find some other cronies,
Who will be there with Broon and Blair,
When they call for Labour donies.
As Broon pondered, PM did say,
To Blair we’ll call you Tony.
So now get out, and about,
And raise some campaign money.
And worry not, from where it comes,
Just ask for a donation,
And as to why, please make it clear,
It’s only for the nation.
Then Broon and Blair they had a chat,
To discuss the future for them,
And Blair did say, Hip Hip Hooray,
I want to be the Pee Emm!
Am no sure, came gruff retort,
And Bottler was offended.
What can I do, if that’s for you?
Am feeling quite upended.
Oh don’t wurree, was Tone’s retort,
Cherie’s kept me on the narrow,
Her plan is good, for you and me,
And you, are not so shallow.
So start to plan and dont despair,
We will not do the dirty,
Your gonna be, next to me,
And Chanceldour of Exchequer.
Och! That sounds guud! Am awfee pleased
Was Broon’s astounding answer.
But if I cannae be Pee Emm
Will they no think am a plonker?
No, no. said Tone, with gravitas.
This is the short solution.
My mission’s clear, so have no fear
We must first win the election.
Once that’s done, we’ll meet for sure,
To clarify future positions.
And with PM here, whom we both hold dear,
There will be no confusion.
Am no quite sure just what ye mean?
Was BB’s puzzled question.
You’re Pee Emm, he’s PM
Forgive the inquisition?
There canna be, PM’s by 3
Of that there is no doubt.
But I realise, as Chanceldour
Just who’ll have the clout!
Okay! Okay! Let’s break the bubbles,
And they will be on me.
But not the French stuff out of Reims
Cava! Cava! BB’s T!
And so we start out on this jurrnee
With Gordon, he wasnee a declared ‘wee free’
Or so he lead us to believe
Or was he just a licenced thieve!!!!! (I know, THIEF!! Ed)
Now do recall PM’s prediction,
We’re gonna win the election.
Thank goodness he had no lisp
Otherwise, he’d be burned to a crisp! (Politically of course!)
But election they did win,
Much down to the public’s whim.
Many did not know the latter,
Plonkers using Labour patter.
Callaghan, Foot and Kinnock too,
And Wilson, who dropped us in the …,
Healey, fervent communist and last of all
The EE UUUUU.
‘Tis quite compelling to look and see
‘Xactly what they meant to be.
First they’re anti, then they’re not,
Believe me, it’s the start of the rot.
PM’s driving, make no mistake,
But then during a break.
PM said ‘Listen well’
I think we now need a Campbell.
Remember Glencoe, for the Scots,
S’important for us, lots and lots.
And I remember with some rage
Reading Penthouse letter’s page.
Doesn’t matter ‘bout content
The author did not relent.
Lies and fabrication were his line,
He will suit us all just fine.
Enter stage left, Ali C,
To you and I a monstrosi-tee
Welcome over he did say:
You’re PM, I’m the boss. So now please go and just get lost.
Now what the eff’s all this about?
I’m in control and I can shout.
And scream. And eff and blind.
Do as you’re told, all will be fine.
So Ali C’s command of fiction
Fitted with PM’s prediction.
And out came a drafty mainifesto
Giving directions where they would go.
Don’t be bothered bout long explanation.
Bout details and facts. They baffle the nation.
We are now in the era called Soundbite
And Tone with ol’ Bottler will put Tories to flight.
Be aware too, of questions and answers,
Never respond to those put by chancers
Or reporters or people of any description
If you do we wont win the election.
My plan is thus. Everyday at a regular time
The press will assemble to hear our party line.
Should any reporter dissent or try to be true,
They will not come back for a day or two.
This clever plan will surely go well,
No news for reporters is like being in hell.
We will control, they will all agree
And I’m positive no-one will argue with me.
Any questions? No. Good. Let’s get on
Start grooming our Tone and Gordon the strong.
You’ll be allright as Chanceldour Exchequer
It’s worth a bet, if only a tenner.
Time did fly by, the election was fought,
And PM’s prediction came out as he thought.
Landslides and parties and political glee
The opposition would well be at sea.
Or desert. Or costa. Or somewhere else but here
‘Cos AB and GB were full of good cheer.
After so many years spent in opposition
They really preferred their new place and position.
And then GB aka Bottler to be,
Headed off to HM’s Treasury.
He summonsed the Gumbos, they hastened and ran,
To listen to Bottler and his great mighty plans.
So how bad is it? Was the question he asked us.
Very, or awful or just plain disastrous?
Well, actually, no, it’s really quite good,
The Tories lead us right out of the woods.
So if I’m believing right,
Can I honour my promise without getting a fright?
Indeed you can, was the prompt reply
You don’t even have to tell a lie!
That’s awfee guud, Bottler pronounced
That means I can spend it all in a trounce.
Meantime I’ll plan with you all and we’ll see
How much more tax we can raise idc.
And so with pen and quill and wit
Chanceldour sat down to do his bit
To take much more than he was due
And claim we were not in the …
Lieu of truth which was quite scary And if truth be known we should be wary.
Tone! Said he, my plan is made
The public’s going to get waylaid.
Without their knowledge. And going slowly.
I’ll gradually increase the levy.
Not just one, or two or three
Am gonna have a jamboree!
There NIS and the BBC, And ratchetted fuel charge, said he with glee.
And don’t forget the council tax, and VED
All of course subject to VAT.
The lists goes on and GB was happy
Like Tam o’Shanter at the nappy.
And then, in total reflection,
He looked forward to next election.
Now look here Tone I need to know
Just when do you plan to go?
I need some notice to make sure
The electorate continue to vote Labour.
Well, Gord, it’s like this. Or that.
(I’d like to say you are a pratt!)
The polls are up and PM has said
He’s likely to go and get wed.
How can that be? Asked BB then.
I didna ken he had a hen.
You’re right (or left) said our Tone
Suppressing just a tiny groan.
No, he’s playing away, in Brazil, I know
But say nowt yet, or Tories may crow.
And with that bomb, BB’s jaw did drop
Appears ‘tis something he couldna stop.
And now you know, the secrets bare
BB’s jaw drop is something rare
Brought on by PM, aka Prince of Darkness
‘Bout GB’s jaw, he couldn’t care less.
Budgets came and budgets went,
All announced with pomp, but little sense.
Taxes rose and rose once more
All down to our Chanceldour.
But ‘tween all this, BB did see,
How would it be as Pee Emm for me,
I so he chanced with Tone to talk.
Tell me Bud, how should I walk?
Our Tone, not one to hide his light,
Was candid, beyond delight.
You need to use your balls like me
You really do need, a Cherie?
Och I see what you say. I think I’ll be on my way
For this you are gonna pay.
Because I have a cunning thought
Balls I need, Balls will be bought.
A few days L8er, Gord did meet,
Our Tone in cabinet, all was not sweet.
Said G to T, I found my Balls,
His name is Ed. He’s gud at trawls.
Ock Gord, said Tone, in passive speech
Ye canae be both mild and meek.
Ye need tae find yersel’ a hen
And gie yersel some offspring. Ken?
Och Tone, you are a great, great pal. I really feel quite normal. You make me want to spend and spend!
So I’ll buckle under,
Find masel a ….?
Thus we progress, upwards and onwards
With BB sowing something? What? it must be forwards,
Only because he wanted to brief and see, The institution called the Bee Bee See.
Now look here, he said to them
Do not report only ‘Ahem’
For in front of you, please comprehend
Am gonna be the nex Pee Emm.
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