The first debate

Where were you watching, if watching at all
The moment when history paid us a call?
With nervous predictions of how it would go
That evening in April when Clegg stole the show.

The first time on TV the leaders had met
The rules argued over, and finally set;
Just who it would favour it seems we now know
The break with tradition when Clegg stole the show.

Whose lines would resonate, who would look best?
Who would be sharpest and rise to the test?
Would there be slip-ups, would one be in flow?
It seemed pretty clear once Clegg stole the show.

So on to the next debate, this time on Sky
In high-definition, we'll see the sparks fly;
But still we'll remember who laid the first blow
On that Thursday evening, when Clegg stole the show.

Grounded

Blue, blue, nothing but blue.
No vapour trails to scar the view,
No soaring jets to cut on through
The cloudless, boundless, empty sky
Where ashes float unseen up high.
Miasma of volcanic spew
In blue, blue, infinite blue.

Letter to David Miliband

Dear Mr Miliband,

I know this might sound silly,
and I hope you won't misunderstand me
setting out these views.

You and your kid brother,
Mr Miliband (the other), I've just spotted
on the cover of our local Evening News.

You're pictured in the photo with a poster
of an auto; it's an 80s' Audi Quattro,
kind of dated, but okay.

The poster has a banner, on the bonnet
David Cameron, I wouldn't wish to hammer on
about this, but to say:

If you think this election's lost,
you may be right, but what a cost you're paying if
you're fostering careers selling cars!

Brand new models might be fine, or something
from a classic line, but why are you both so resigned
when you're still rising stars?!

To turn your back on politics just when
you're mastering its tricks, to sell these
mechanised relics, just doesn't serve your ends.

Of all the tactics to employ, to use
the Tories' pin-up-boy is bound to puzzle and annoy
your former party friends.

It seems to me just crazy, quite disloyal,
rather lazy, that you're entering a phase
which Arthur Daley would prefer.

So please think of the voters and forget these
ancient motors; why not get yourselves a Lotus
and ride back to Westminster?!