The ‘Mare Of The Brownite of Bridlington (Doggerel #11)

I’m not a member if the Labour party, and I’ve only ever voted for them once, in  2015, and that was out of disgust with the Liberal Democrats after they’d spent the preceding five years enablinf one of ths most toxic Conservative Governments in living memory. As such, I’m not entirely sure where I stand on the current tribulations of the official opposition. Jeremy Corbyn seems a decent enough bloke and I probably agree with him aboutore things than I don’t. On the other hand, he’s struggling. Whatever says, someone’s going to undermine him, be it the press or his colleagues and he doesn’t always seem to put that much effort in. I’d quite like a Corbyn government, but it’s increasingly difficult to see it happening and the prospect of 9 or so years with Gove or May at the Helm is, frankly, horrifying so I don’t actually blame the Parliamentary Labour Party.  I’ve got nowt against Angela Eagle, either, but when I discovered she’s from Bridlington, it seemed rude not to use the fact to inspire a pastiche of one of the best songs set in the East Riding of Yorkshire(1). 

***

She was a Brownite from Bridlington,
She was, was the Brownite of Brid,
Who’d hitched her mast to a ghastly crew,

Whose politics were reddish blue,

And what the papers thought they ought to do,

They did, they did, they did,

And what the papers said they ought to do,

Did the friends of the Brownite of Brid

The referendum campaign had just ended in a farce,

Labour In had acted like they could not be arsed,

But rather than apportioning blame where blame was due,

They thought they’d use it as an excuse for a coup

***
They tried talking to their leader,

Did the friends of the Brownite of Brid,

Explaining to him gently,

That possibly he shouldn’t see,

A future as head of the PLP

They did, they did, they did,

Urged him to stand down from the PLP,

Did the friends of the Brownite of Brid

But in spite of all the jockeying, the leader wouldn’t budge,

Oblivious to every subtle nudge,

So some sort of formal challenge seemed to be the only thing,

But no one dared to throw their hat into the ring

***
She decided that she should step up,

She did, did the Brownite of Brid,

And when the moment came, she, sort of, pounced

When one by one, her colleagues flounced,

What she’d praised before, she 

now renounced,

She did, she did, she did

What she’d praised before, she now renounced,

She did, did the Brownite of Brid,

“Our leader may be decent with a rare integrity,

But he hasn’t even got a PPE

So we’ll override the membership now we’ve let them have their say,

For Eagles, well we’re nothing but a sort of a bird of prey

***
So she quit her shadow cabinet post,

She did, did the Brownite of Brid,

To fight to end the leader’s reign

(She’d registered her web domain

Days before deciding to campaign

She did, she did, she did

Days before deciding to campaign, 

She did, did the Brownite of Brid,)

But the website notwithstanding, the leader stayed resolute,

And she wished they could just give their man the boot,

And they couldn’t seem to shift him, however hard they tried,

Because their leader had the membership onside

***
She got laying down the ground work,

She did, did the Brownite of Brid,

And with PLP running amok,

Got thumbing through her contact book,

But when she got to ‘c’, she came unstuck,

She did, she did, she did

When she got to ‘c’ she came unstuck,

She did, did the Brownite of Brid,

Her parliamentary colleagues said she was a shoo-in for the race,

But they were living in a quite insular place,

And what makes sense in the Village, may not do so in the town,

And they really should have talked her chances down

***
She went to her consituents,

She did, did the Brownite of Brid,

But then they dealt the fatal blow,

As tactfully, they let her know,

They were happy with the status quo,

They did, they did, they did

They were happy with the status quo,

The told her, the Brownite of Brid

It’s a sad and often thankless task,

To be a stalking horse,

Which leads to ignominy and remorse,

For even when you win, there’ll still be trouble left in store,

And someone will have to clean up the manure

***
She decided to put her plans on ice,

She did, did the Brownite of Brid,

And so with her ambitions sadly curbed,

Said it was not her turn to cause a stir,

In Wallasey or Westminster,

She did, she did, she did

She said, “Bugger this for a campaign

It’s proved a momental pain

And my chance will always come again.”

She did, she did, she did

“My chance will always come again,”

Unless it comes for our kid.”

***

(1) This is probably the best.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s