Here we go folks:
Once there was a wedding, unremarkable you'd think,
And you'd be quite right in your supposition.
And the honeymoon, luxurious, with noses sunburned pink,
That's not the subject of this small submission.
It's events that then ensue, and a greed that does pursue,
Most determinédly after more largesse.
From a poor ex-colleague who most politely gave a few
Of her shekels as a gesture of noblesse.
But alas, her kindly gesture was receivéd with a sneer,
And a missive of aggression yet passivity.
With the rudest of suggestions that she part with more possessions,
To ease the pain of hitherto austerity.
Our heroine turned to the nest of vipers for a clue,
Who responded to her plight with wit and fury.
Where unanimity is rare, each one responded with great flair:
'is she on glue?' And 'YANBU: the cheeky mare!'
The battle cry arose, with the swelling Mumsnet chorus,
And this the maxim great, is what we take from it.
The lesson sure and true, which resounds the ages through,
And this is how is goes, to all posterity:
"CANCEL THE CHEQUE!"
Our heroine sighed patiently and gently did explain,
That the Grabbersons had rendered this unfeasible.
With their talons in the hundred quid, they graspéd after more,
The funds were tucked up tightly in collateral.
This tale of avarice now resounds across the land,
With Evans, Holly, Vanessa and Phil on it.
With the Daily Mail reporting and the twitterati snorting:
"Cancel the cheque!"
To the shameless Grabbersons, with their effrontery exposed,
And their rude request for quantitative easing.
We do proffer the advice of a nation undergoing,
Unprecedented governmental squeezing:
"Be gracious and accept the kindness proffered:
Please expect no further swelling of your coffers!
In short, we say: Cancel the cheque!"