The Party's Over

The Party’s Over

The daily canvassing’s completed,

The weekly Hustings been and gone:

We’ve had more politics than most can bear,

And none of it has been a lot of fun.

The polling stations are deserted,

After everybody went to town,

The balloons gone softly deflated,

And the banners have all come down.

The counting’s all done and over,

And now the result is finally clear:

If the answer didn’t suit you,

Now’s the time to shed a tear.

The five-yearly chance to vote is finished,

Democracy in action’s had its day,

So let’s take stock of what just happened -

What else is there possibly left to say?

Let’s talk of the winners and the losers,

The inaccuracies of the pundits’ calls:

Of how New Labour got castrated –

Well – they clearly lost their Balls.

Constituencies no longer red -

For them the night was a real mother:

Miliband’s chance to eat a bacon sarnie,

And spend more time with his brother.

And the slaughter of the innocents,

The Lib/ Dems really took it on the chin:

Vince Cable, Danny Alexander, both now gone,

Clegg’s resigned, his career’s now in the bin.

For the Greens it was lost deposits,

But they’re not the ones that are out of touch:

With no proportional representation,

So many votes that didn’t count for much.

And what of those on the Fruit-cake stall?

The right-wing loonies and their nippers?

Their campaign was surely Reckless?

A low-point for Farage and his UKIppers.

And up in Scotland, things turned upside down:

That Nicola Sturgeon’s quite a dish,

But with Alec Salmond in the Commons,

Why are the SNP so obsessed with fish?

But to the victor must go the spoils,

And Cameron’s back in Number Ten.

The Electorate have clearly spoken,

So we’re in for more Austerity again.

It’s an end to Coalition:

The lights have sadly dimmed,

The Cabinet’s drinking full-fat milk,

And there’ll be no more semi-skimmed.

There’s to be no negotiation,

And all those red lines will count for naught.

The gloves are off, it’ll be unfettered

Benefit cuts and measures of that sort.

But as the new boys and girls turn up for work

In Westminster for the start of term,

With their shiny bags and sharpened pencils,

Perhaps there’s a lesson they should learn?

As the old guard clear out their offices,

To spend much more time with their money,

We’ll see the launch of some new careers,

Appearing on Strictly – and that ain’t funny.

Just remember – politics is deadly,

And nobody will shed any tears,

If you go and bugger up anything else,

You might not even last another five years!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2015