
Happy Brexmas, For Folk's Sake: two poems by Jim Mainland
Happy Brexmas
by Jim Mainland
The turkey’s chlorine-washed
bish-boshed
well and truly stuffed
and there’s no room
at the Wetherspoon’s
so go give birth in a foodbank,
you citizen of nowhere,
you queue-jumper
you plank!
And goodbye wise-guy Magi
(we’ve had enough of experts)
and, Oi, shepherds, watch your backs
(how come your sheep
do nothing but bleat?)
because we want no stranger danger
in that manger
no swaddling, molly-coddling
benefits cheat.
But we have had a whip-round for the Boy
gift-cobbled together some of our best ye olde –
Terry’s All Golde,
Brut (ya beaut!)
and Omo,
to speed you on your way, bro,
to soften your Windrush
bumsrush
because it’s hostile, it’s a jungle out there, so I’m told...
And us?
We’ll follow the felt-collared spiv,
wrap our minds
in the flag of St George
and set to sea in a sieve.
For Folk’s Sake
by Jim Mainland
The will of the people!
The people’s vote!
The enemies of the people!
The people’s princess!
The People’s Friend!
The Wee Arra People!
Q: Quantify the value of p
where b[ollocks] is constant.