Number One

Aspiration without courage and integrity,

weekday commuters, flattered by obscurity.

Weekend Kings, with sons to follow their lead.

Leaders themselves? Too craven they be.

On touch-lines and boundaries, sporting a phone,

Selective conversationalists, with only their own.

Their coats are liberal, but the truth be,

They’re polling day Tories, between you and me.

All that money, just to conform,

The chariot of choice is the Four by Four.

In black or white, but silver is best,

Far superior, to all the rest.

Sat high up, surveying the land,

Kings of the road, Costa in hand.

A badge of office, it seems to me,

See it themselves? Too foolish they be.