The Way Of Things

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Lord Aubrey Danglewood was known by all below the salt,

To be a shilling less than full; a bank without a vault.


A chinless wonder bred from stock quite rare in the extreme;

His gene pool scarcely had enough to form a synchro team.


Yet though his lordship clearly was a bear of little brains,

His heart was true within his chest, and love coursed through his veins.


He loved his wife Drusilla, and his kids Hortense and Vlad;

He loved his hounds and horses and the servants that he had;


He quite adored the country pile his ancestors had built,

From robbing peasants after all their guts and blood was spilt.


His ignorance of antecedent slaughter from the past,

Was ended when enlightenment left Danglewood aghast;


Whilst watching on his telly, David Starkey blether on,

About transgressions of nobility from times long gone,


The penny dropped, and Danglewood felt deep regret and shame;

He knew he had to put to right the wrongs done in his name.


So there and then the noble lord decided to atone,

Renounce his titles, land and wealth and sell his lovely home.


He changed his name to Albert Wood and wondered how he might

Find ways to help alleviate poor workers' social plight.


His filthy lucre he disposed to swiftly give away

To victims of past Danglewood marauding and foul play.


He joined the Tory Party and became a candidate,

Returning as elected member for the Third Estate.


He took his seat as plain old Bertie Wood and set about

Reforming with a zeal in favour of those folk without.


But being dimmer than a twenty watt organic light,

The former lord became ensnared by Tory sybarites,


Who with corruption, greed, ambition, perfidy and sin,

Entangled poor dear Bertie 'til his mind was in a spin.


Despite his best intentions, all his plans were laid to waste,

And left upon his noble tongue, a nasty aftertaste.


He spent his days in Parliament, a journeyman MP,

Upon the backbench, quite confused, until aged 63,


His title of Lord Danglewood, by statute was restored,

And wearing ermine, he was sent back as a Tory lord.


Now looking for the moral in this cautionary verse:

Decisions made in haste are rarely good and make things worse.


So Tories out there, if you wish to learn from Bert's mistake,

Protect your wealth, forget the poor, you've won in life's sweepstake


And comrades from the other side, this concept must be mastered;

Remember every chinless landed twit’s a Tory aspirant

hoping to make the Conservative A-List of candidates drawn up

by Conservative Central Office at the behest of Theresa May.


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M.C. Newberry

Sat 22nd Apr 2017 17:50

Reading this through, I thought now and then
Of a certain Right Honourable Anthony Wedgewood Benn
And I imagined how in another happenchance story
Tony Benn might have lived as a born again Tory!😉

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John Coopey

Fri 21st Apr 2017 12:46

I always think that Goolies deserve a life expectancy 5 years more than the rest of us. This is because they waste 5 years of their life at that bastard level crossing. It makes me late for The junction folk night every bloody time.

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Jonathan Humble

Fri 21st Apr 2017 12:21

Always been a Goolie at heart John : )

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John Coopey

Fri 21st Apr 2017 10:55

A full beard would disguise the chinless, I believe, JH. You should start a political party.
And what's this I read about you returning to your Goolie roots?

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