I can already imagine a comedy Westend show, “Yes Prime Minister”
Ai wrote me a poem which is on the money
Theresa May walked in with a plan,
“Strong and stable,” best she can,
Dancing through Brexit, step by step—
Turns out that tune was hard to rep.
Oh the door keeps spinning round,
New PM, new sound,
Number Ten’s a musical chair,
Blink once—there’s someone new there.
Then Boris rolled in, hair aflame,
Jokes and Latin, part of the game,
“Just one more party,” he would say—
Work emails sent at end of day.
Oh the door keeps spinning round,
Cheers and scandals, pound to pound,
Promises high, delivery thin,
Cue the next one stepping in.
Liz Truss tried a turbo beat,
Markets tripped over their own two feet,
A lettuce watched from the side with grace—
Outlasted Liz in a viral race.
Oh the door keeps spinning round,
Shortest set in Westminster town,
Forty-something days and gone,
Like a very brief pop song.
Rishi Sunak, suited tight,
Numbers glowing late at night,
Calm and careful, steady tone—
Trying to fix what he’d been loaned.
Oh the door keeps spinning round,
Spreadsheet king in a shaky town,
Holding on through stormy weather,
Keeping all the threads together.
Now Starmer steps up to the mic,
Measured words, a different style strike,
Less of the chaos, more control—
A lawyer’s rhythm, steady goal.
Oh will the door slow spinning down?
Or keep that Westminster merry-go-round?
Eight years, five leads, quite the show—
Who’s next up? We never know.