No set of limericks would be complete without something about Brexit, which is generating more heat at the moment than Hinkley Point C. It may turn out to be a triumph or a calamity, or more probably a shambles. We shall see.
To start, Dumas’ three famous characters came to mind, so:
Just look at the three Brexiteers
And realise your very worst fears
With Pathos, Bathos and
Allamiss to hand
It's enough to reduce you to tears
Please feel free to choose your own interpretation. Is there a d'Artagnan waiting in the wings do you think?
Take pity on poor Theresa
No news at the moment to please her
"Of course there's a plan
I'll tell when I can"
So unkind of her MPs to tease her
Clearly she's stuck between a rock and a hard Brexit, not helped by the mutterings of her Foreign Secretary on the subject of cake.
"We're having our cake and we're eating it
I've said it and now I'm repeating it
Don't listen to them
It's all so much phlegm
They need us and will end up admitting it"
Sorry about the rhyming (or lack of it) in the last line.
Apparently there's a suggestion that we may offer the EU some form of subscription (i.e. bribe) to sort of stay in: about £350M a week perhaps. Sorry about the NHS.
We don't want to be part of the club
But perhaps if we offered a sub
They'd see their way clear
To make it appear
As if we were out - there's the rub
