Gee it must be hard.
One chance only Tony scarred.
Reaping all the mess he's left,
Dour bleak Scotsman, joy bereft.
One consolation you can cherish
Now your term is set to perish.
Blair's chrome gloss will soon be gone,
Reality's rust his shine undone.
One Archerism and then another,
Wilful deceit the truth to smother.
Now you hold the sinking rudder.
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