The Love Song of J Gordon Brown.

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A pal of mine, it turns out, has posted a few rather lovely Eliot knock-offs at New Labour's Book of Impractical Cats. I found out only when, by complete coincidence, I sent her the following:

Let us go then, you and I,
When New Labour is laid low in the polls
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted polling stations,
The muttering resignations
Of restless days on green leather benches
And one-to-ones on College Green with Sky TV:
Briefings that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question..
Oh, do not ask, "When will he resign?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Alan Johnson.


(I may come back and do the whole thing. Original here)


What a great idea. You have to carry on with this to this verse at least:

In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

Which is probably on the door of Labour HQ.

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This page was published on June 5, 2009 1:33 PM.

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