Two haircuts will soon rule the world,
Both wax illyrical of "freedom",
One bronze (No.45) , one blond-
Where's Sweeney Todd when you need him?
The blond is from London's blue-rinsed collar-
Some torytown, eton or barnet, no doubt.
The ginger duck's-ass was spawned in queens
But dad's filthy lucre soon greased his way out.
The bombastic bouffant blusters of parting
With his sinister brexiteer friends-
The whole blowout- no trim or French cut-
With no thought for how the split ends.
Where once layered eloquence was, now we all dread
The frown, the pout, the strop, the whinge.
The illiterate, profane, inane tweet
To delight his benighted lunatic fringe.
His ignorance bald, bare-faced lies divert him,
While his lacquers comb over the mullet report.
Though he tried to hide one or two short choppy shags,
Oily cohen's slickbacks became highlights in court.
And if this double-crowned hairmare transpires
Will they gel, these two volumised would-be caesars?
The marble-mouthed narcissist fingers his fop while
The sociopath gestures with fantasy tweezers.