By Stanley Collymore
Kiss her hand you ghastly, bearded Republican terrorist
sympathizer and existential threat to our monarchical
Britain! For how dare you anticipate ever being an
authentic member of the Privy Council, the
august body that advises Her Majesty,
and not expect to kneel at our head
of state’s feet and adoringly kiss
her hand, you disreputable, treacherous and
absolutely insufferable man that without
any quibbling or a shadow of doubt
is a festering sore and gross insult
to all of us proud, deeply loyal
and patriotic subjects of HM
the Queen and, of course,
our intensely precious
United Kingdom?
Yet, you have the gall, the sheer temerity and
even the barefaced audacity, Jeremy Corbyn
to actually call yourself an Englishman!
How could you? Especially when our
medieval system of entrenched class
consciousness, quite formidably
and privileged exceptionalism,
routine nepotism and knowing our place in
society; as those, who by divine right and
born to rule the rest of us always know
what’s best for us - has continuously
worked wonderfully well for our
beloved country: comprising
England, Wales, Northern Ireland and Scotland,
that we are acutely honoured to call Britain;
and therefore must unchanged continue
to do so without revolting notions of
spurious meritocracy, social and
racial equality compounded by
your untenable egalitarian
meddling, never allowed
to endanger any or all
of this, Commissar
Jeremy Corbyn!
© Stanley V. Collymore
9 October 2015.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem