This little piggy trusts in market

What fantasies trotted through Cameron’s head?
Prime Berkshire Bore, home counties, well-bred –
With fly unzipped, and pork sword at half mast,
While Piggy prepared for a final repast,
What made the Honourable Member rise –
Edwina Currie, with smouldering eyes?
Did Thatcher’s stern visage fill up his spout
As it flapped against pink, upturned snout?
Did Virginia Bottomley’s golden locks
Stuff his succulent sausage with meaty thoughts?
Bestiality – just a youthful fling?
Harmless bit of college fun – hardly a thing
Worthy of the tabloid press to dwell on.
But Corbyn left his top button undone,
Stood silent at the national anthem.
Do such heinous crimes – heaven forfend –
Justify acres of column inches penned?
One rule for the rich, another for the poor
Posh-boy’s high-jinks, fit for cutting-room floor.

Tags: bullingdon, cameron, corbyn, pig, piggate