The Blabberlot

’Twas Boris and the slimy cove
Did lie and bimble on his way
All flimsy were his moral codes
His ego ruled the day

Beware the Battenburg, my son!
That springs from ambush, fools to catch
Beware the Camembert, and shun
The friv’lous party hats!

He’d set a law for all the land
Alone the viral foe they fought
But not for he such hermitry
When party food was brought

No more in a fridge caught he stood!
The Blabberlot, immune to shame
Came whiffling through the parly’ment
And sought to dodge the blame!

Not true! Not true! He cried anew
“‘Twas nothing but an office snack!
No party meant, a work event
With drinkies out the back!”

“And canst thou blame the Blabberlot?
An unsuspecting birthday boy?
What rules, I pray, applied that day?
For of them I knew nought!”

’Twas Boris and the slimy cove
Still lies and swindles to this day
No justice Met, and won’t be yet
’Til we hear from dear Sue Gray

EPILOGUE

One hundred fifty thousand deaths
The cost of this pandemic
It makes our burden none the less
To call this plague “endemic”

Yet nought can break the confidence
Of this Etonian clown
For if he e’er his bottle lost
His colleagues brought their own

It may yet take an act divine
To end his deadly game
For none can make the cad resign
Who lives devoid of shame