Poems on the underground – Downing Street December by Mark Grainger


If I were posh, and blond, and hard of heart,

I’d host a Christmas do at Downing Street,

While making normal families stay apart,

You wouldn’t see me there; I’d be discreet.

Chugging champagne and snogging – cautiously,

To give myself the best chance to deny

That there’s one rule for them and one for me.

Outside I’d let the bodies pile high,

And when drilling the denial with my staff,

They’d rehearse the bald-faced lie – and laugh.

Mark Grainger

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