Published:

15 comments

After his valiant efforts on Friday’s jokes post, reader John Leonard has penned a poetic tribute to Brown’s Cabinet:

A dithering big ‘feartie’ called Brown,

Had a face that was always a frown,

His hands were all shaky,

His vision was flaky,

In short, a political clown.


The Home Sec’s name was Smiff,

She had an incredible tiff,

To defend Ian Blair,

Left her in despair,

And remembering that toke on a spliff.


In housing there was ‘nosey’ Cooper,

Who hired an army of snoopers,

But she’ll have her chips,

When they throw out her HIPS,

And she’ll end up a lavatory super.


That wily old fox called Jack Straw,

Dragged down an old lag to the floor,

The lag said what’s wrong,

It’s early release that I’m on,

Compensation I’ll have coz I’m sore.

Feel sorry for poor Hilary Benn,

The Broon Curse got him again and again,

He caught foot and mouth,

From a flood in the south,

The credit, Brown took even then.

Brown’s favourite ‘Young Turk’ Ed Balls,

Strutted smugly through Westminster’s Halls,

His policy on schools,

Was the gibbering of fools,

With their trousers down showing their smalls.

That chattering chipmunk called Blears,

Who increased communities’ fears,

By talking too much,

About nothing as such,

Cept’ Nu Labour speak thru’ the years.

Work & Pensions got old Peter Hain,

Who once caused South Africa pain,

But he caused greater tensions,

By wrecking our pensions,

And sporting a fake poncy tan.

The Chief Whip was gormless Geoff Hoon,

Without doubt Labour’s greatest buffoon,

He proved at defence,

He was just far too dense,

But Gordon still made him his goon.

The elusive Scots creature Des Browne,

When there’s trouble he’s never around,

While the MOD’s sinking,

He’s too busy thinking,

Of Edinburgh, Glasgow and Troon .

Alexander was called a Young Turk,

The election was his, as a perk,

But he eased off the throttle,

When Brown lost his bottle,

And now he looks just like a berk.

The Olympics belonged to the Jowell,

The overspend made people howl,

In regard to the south,

She ne’er opened her mouth,

And the voters just thought of her foul.

Jim Murphy was European Minister,

His sly actions were truly sinister,

Giving Sovereignty away,

Without people’s say,

Unquestionably, the most devious twister.

The Milliband Brothers had need,

To climb up the ladder with speed,

But poor Dave, in Browns’ malice,

Got the Foreign poisoned chalice,

To ensure that he’s kept on a lead.

Don’t forget ‘Opus Dei’ Kelly,

Her fouls ups have made her a nellie,

Now pay back that cash,

For propaganda rash,

Or you’ll get Gorbals’ Mick’s great big wellie.

Last and so least there is Harman,

Who’d be better off at work as a barman,

For when the House growls,

She always cries ‘foul’,

And whines ‘Don’t hurt me I’m only a woman’.

A Cabinet of no talent at all,

Will head for the mightiest fall,

For spin and deceit,

Incompetence, complete,

Will lead to Gordon, black-balled.

15 comments for: The Government of no talent, in limericks

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.