An ill wind blows at Westminster(aka The Mother of all Farts)

Margarita Mayhem was a Tory Minister, the Prime one of the day
Mayhem by name and nature too, even colleagues were bound to say
She'd stumbled through her tenure leaving behind a littered trail
But today's unholy stink at Westminster would surely be a step beyond the pale

The PM stopped mid-sentence, her face turned ashen grey
Her knees began to tremble and her hips began to sway
And then it came from deep within, a force too great to stop
Docking at the point of no return with first a moan and then a pop

Clenched buttocks could do nothing and the pop became a mighty roar
A natural gas eruption with methane at it's core
The explosion echoed around the chamber while the PM shrank from view
Her embarrassed eyes sought left and right demanding swift rescue

Rise Grooling, Grunt and Fondle, faces a ruddy blush
Like commandeered Quixotes and with voices very hush
Mumbled meek apologies if they should be to blame
Then settled humbly to their bench, heads hung in mock shame

The blast at last was left behind but, oh boy, far worse was to arrive
A malodorous funk so poisonous mere words could bare describe
A punge so rich in sulphur, in rot and in decay
A reek of pure malevolence passed through the House this day

Hot air rises as it will and it crept from bench to bench
MPs groaned, order papers waving, unable to take the stench
At last The Speaker shouted "Order" and he held a steady gaze
As the leader of The Opposition emerged visible through the haze

Corblimey struggled to Despatch, yet determined for a kill
And declared he'd had an email from Jean in Bexley Hill
Who to put the matter bluntly was having trouble at one end
And was there any remedy the PM could recommend

Labour Members rolled in the aisles, huge cheers, rapturous applause
Such wit and spontaneity from the leader of their cause
What clarity of mind he'd shown in circumstances oh so dire
This erstwhile Son of Sam was now the hero of the hour

Cue Gable dancing lightly to his feet, his face still bore a tear
Asserting this was just the type of hard exit that the British people fear
The Greens cried "no emissions" while the SNP sat schtum
And a voice from the back gave curt advice about a finger and a bum

Enter a digit jabbing Skinnard, well known not to gladly suffer fools
"Deeds speak louder than words" says he "and that one sums up Tory rule"
Well, that sent the Tories in to frenzy and pandemonium ensued
Insults were hurled and curses cast should a foe's face appear in view

With retching still heard on all levels and no dispersing of the acrid cloud
With bodies scrambling for the doors and Members tripping in the crowd
With hands not knowing what they were groping - not unusual some may say
The Speaker had no option but to halt proceedings for the day

That evening the gig economy sprang sharply in to life
Cleaners, Florists, Perfumers worked all through the night
Lavender on every bench, scented candles, sweet bouquets
By morning all was fresh again, no whiff of yesterday

Also scheming hard that night the team at number Ten
"Nothing has changed" squawked Mayhem but that didn't convince the men
A cunning plan was needed to pin the odious blame elsewhere
Especially as the whole Poohaha had gone out live on air

Step forward Alexander Horace de Waffel Bilge, tousled hair and garbling tongue
Who insisted he could come up trumps with an explanation for the ghastly pong
"A draught of ale, a glug of gin and a few hours thinking time.
That's all I need" said Horace while slurping down his wine

Next day came Horace to the House, could he defuse this powder keg
He'd consulted widely - GCHQ, MI5 and 6, and even Mystic Meg
"I've unearthed the guilty culprit. I've had all hands to the pump"
And professed it to be the Russians with a putrid cyber dump

Even Bloomsberg at the Beeb didn't fall for that one and the PM's race was run
Mayhem was ultimately done for after months of hanging on
Crisis upon crisis had finally broken poor Margarita's heart
But who could have guessed it all would end with the Mother of all Farts!

Copyright: Fishylyrics December 2017 


Author: SimonFish

Husband to Julie, Dad to Mollie & Joe. Hoping that there is an emerging movement of the left. Would like to play some small part in it through my poetry.

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