Azorean respite, October sun
Sunak the victor, premiership won
Portents cold deluge seemed so far off
By noonday’s chill dressing; best not to scoff
All seemed so splendid, arrival plain sail
Until Braverman appointment unravelled its tail
Stung with the whiplash of “Goodness me! Why?”
Queries came a-tumbling like entrails from the sky
Listening to Quin while Braverman ran
(Hiding no doubt behind sent fencing man)
No augur was needed to read what would come
By using the get-out old Boris had spun
“Ministerial Code? Needs damn good tweak
To give flexibility for those who are weak
High expectations are all very well
But what really matters is covering the smell”
Sunak’s new start is not by the book
Falling so soundly at fence ‘Boris’ Brook’
To be in the running for Integrity
Don’t follow the culvert named Dishonesty
Be wary of speeches that promise too much
Wealth cannot buy the jewel that is trust
Trust can be broken by means underhand
Hence to the portent that was Braverman
