The unworthy thought occurs
that Liz’s sword might clove
the skull or pate (a perfect fate)
of Cameron or Gove.
Perhaps, with nunchucks whirling,
she’d end the sudden plague
(by opening veins like pipes and drains)
of Hunt and May and Hague.
Perhaps I’m being vicious
but Liz was (yes, of course) born
into a line whose axe was fine
and perfect for George Osborne.
She might use other weapons,
like daggers, scythes and sickles –
she’d need to labour with a sabre
to finish Eric Pickles.
And maybe, hurling bowlers,
she’d smite the coalition:
by force of God, lob hats like Oddjob,
and send them to perdition.
Take Boris and his minions,
and have them drawn and quartered!
By legal crook and regal hook
she’d have the whole lot slaughtered.
And afterwards, still bleeding,
and striding through the dead,
she’d stretch her hand to Miliband
and say ‘The country’s red.’