At the moment, the election is the only thing in my life more important than finals* – or at least the only important thing that I feel immediately (if very partially) responsible for, and as such it’s been distracting me from revision to an alarming degree. Along with many others, I’m trying to move on from my impotent fury at the fact that the election results didn’t directly reflect my lefty-liberal-student news feed on facebook, so naturally I spent much longer than I should have done writing a poem about it. Oxford is, as you might expect, pretty hellish at the moment, but at least the end is near and revision is happening slowly but surely. Adoring and encouraging letters, emails or carrier pigeons all appreciated 😉
*I am fully aware that there are a great deal of things going on in the world that are vastly more important than the swathes of blue covering Britain, and whether I get out of here with a degree or not, but the scope of this blog is restricted.
An open letter to the party leaders
As we turn the page
on this fateful post-election day,
I’ve got a few things I wanted to say…
I hear you went to Oxford, that’s my uni too;
and though I only speak for me, I’ll guess
that most of us are unimpressed,
we’re less than proud of you.
I can’t claim not to hate
your creepily waxy plastic face,
but I’ll freely concede that it’s mesmerised
enough of the public to save your place
in the grubby back pockets of bankers’ mates:
they weren’t put off by Bullingdon.
The Eton mess is full of scum,
but picking on the poor and sick
is a surefire way to boldly stick
your arrows of lust in the hearts of rich
and tunnel-visioned voters –
and despite the lies you spout,
fair play, you won,
although we tried to keep you out.
Your silly plan
to try and pass the post alone
was well-intentioned lunacy,
and now you’ve gone and lost it all.
I’m sad to see you run and hide,
a paradigm of foolish pride;
did no one tell you, usually
that goes before a fall?
I mean, I’m quite a fan of Aardman
but if you can’t keep up the pace,
you shouldn’t try to play the hard man;
now there’s scotch egg on your face.
You’re emerging from the ashes
like a shiny Scottish phoenix
burning though the seats –
I’m worried that you’ll leave us
for a magic land of leaders who seem decent,
which, we’ve learnt from past experience
means their secret plans are likely to be heinous.
The things that face has seen…
your loyal liberals voted green
and red and blue – just not for you;
your little yellow pity party
hardly had the chance to start
before it fell apart.
Dear Lucas – I mean Bennett,
Don’t lose heart; try not to panic,
it’s not your fault the population
doesn’t care about its planet.
Though I must admit,
your party was a stretch to get behind
when your simple facts and figures
were apparently so hard to call to mind.
We’ve been obliged in recent times
to hear you grouch and grump
about the country’s borderlines –
I hope your limelight’s on the wane;
Leanne won fans by crying “shame”,
but I dread the moment you’re back again,
demanding that immigrants bear the brunt
of your pent up rage, and not to be blunt
but I’d take a pretty solid punt
that a lot of us think you’re a bigoted