Not a single grey hair upon his head – that’s the Prime Minister.
Not a single grey hair upon his head – that’s the Chancellor to boot
Not a single grey hair upon his head – that’s the Deputy Prime Minister
A mind-boggling hat-trick Is scored – School Boys 3 – Grey Hairs 0
Hairy Scary – where has all the wisdom gone ? Green leathered classroom.
Here, such little boys playing politics. They share the collective wisdom of
the playground as they play their games. A game of politics-kick-a-tic-kick?
Yet this game is a game that kicks the lives of real people , real lives.Scary-Hairy
These playground bullies – these windbag types – types who seek to rule over
all they survey. Bullies who beguile us with their hubris. Extraordinary – truly
Extraordinary arrogance – these schoolboys are dangerous characters.
They seek to rule, govern with their prefectorial personalities. Preposterous.
Lacking in any real worldly experience . We all know that a little experience goes a long way.
Life can show its marque and soon builds the wisdom bank – feeds the old grey follicles –
a sure sign the head has been round the block – these toy-boy politicos with their burning
prefects ambition, their deep lust for power. It is at the altar of power that they worship their God
In the classroom the non-grey-haired boys tell us how to behave , how to act , how to run our life ,
how to vote , how to do as we are told. And yet, not a single grey hair sprouts from their thick-skinned heads.
Wow – hairy-scary ? Quite contrary, where has all the wisdom gone? How does their garden grow?
Not a single grey hair upon their collective heads . Not a single grey hair.
What can these little boys know? It is a mystery so say the British voters
Or should we say – disengaged – none voting masses – does anyone care?
Probably, these little prefects , must wonder how did they ever arrived there ?
Lying in their beds as they pinch themselves at night and smile a knowing Smile that says ‘ we have fooled them all.’
So, what they lack in grey hair they gain in spin and stealth. That is why they smile to themselves at night in
bed . They smirk their smug , self-satisfied grin – knowing that they have climbed atop the tree. They rule all they see.
Right to the top of the political tree , scrambled up the greasy-pole
Sitting atop the dirty, murky, stinking bog that is the pond of politics.
A perfect environment for politicians of all shades,creeds and colours.
A place where they sit and look across the horizon and smile at all the fools
We are the fools. We are the bottom of the class in the game of power
We put them at the altar of power in their very own little sweetie shop.
These little boys just like , – Alice-in-Wonderland – they too fell down a hole
And found that they were surrounded by white rabbits and all things magical
They could eat all the jelly and ice-cream and eat cake and stuff themselves silly on a diet of self
importance and arrogance and peacock vanity But , is there no one man who can save us from the children
playing politics? Kick-a-tic-kick political game. Yes, there is but one man among the little boys
Can we not muster-up a single man with a single grey hair who can save us?
Yes , there is a man of perceived wisdom – with at least a little gravitas and he occupies another great
Seat of State – The Foreign Office. Alas he may not do – because even this man has no grey hair , indeed ,
He has no hair at all. Our skin-head , our shiny polished head – our William he has failed us all again. Oh dear.
