Angry Dave

He is the quintessential Englishman
Well to do, and now even friends with Vorderman,
But once a week, About Twelve O’clock,
Angry Dave likes to blow his top,
His hair grows ruffled, his face gets red,
Thumping the dispatch box, Proclaiming Punch and Judy Politics is dead,

He shouts and points that Gordon’s out of touch,
Cheered on by his chums –
From Eton, Oxford, Bullingdon and such.
He points, he shouts, he bays,
He shouts so loud, but has nothing to say.

It is the building, the suit, the Chamber that he loves,
No ghastly bicycles or hooded huskies here to hug,
He plays to the gallery, hunches his shoulders and beats his box,
Talking down the Pound, misunderstanding Northern Rock.

Rehearsing all morning just to get it right…
That all important twenty second sound bite,
So in love is he with broadcast and print media,
His staff change facts on Wikipedia.

Oh Angry Dave why did you promise change?
But only deliver the more of the Tory same,
Let me offer some advice Angry Dave
If I may,
-Perhaps next week instead of shouting,
You might just think of something to say.

Sam Tarrant 11/02/09