The Labour Leadership Saga…

When Labour lost the General Election

They knew they needed new direction

Without a pause for much reflection

“A new leader” they cried!

 

The first to rise was the man called Chuka

His suits so sharp, credentials pukka

But when tabloid lips began to pucker

He ran away to hide.

 

Tristram next began to expound

His vision, with his vowels round

But support for him could not be found:

He fell, and wept inside

 

Just three remained: let battle commence

With Yvette and Andy on the fence

And Liz, who said her views made sense

For the members’ votes they vied

 

‘I’m Northern, me,” Scouse Andy said

Bright Yvette “I’m not quite so red”

Tough Liz cried “They’re both just like Ed”

“Who the voters can’t abide”

 

Said Liz, “I’m really not a Tory”

“Listen, you lot, to my story”

“Don’t vote for me? There’ll be no glory”

“Our future will be fried”

 

But from the left a wailing came

Those three, they cried, are all the same

They treat this thing as just a game

Let’s not give up our pride!

 

So Jez rose out from far left field

To this despair, he could not yield

With sword of red, and trusty shield

The media he defied

 

“I stand for people” Jez cried out

“For the poor and the lost, for those without”

“For socialism, I will shout”

“I’ll swim against the tide”

 

The old-new Labour lot just laughed

The very idea was completely daft

But a cunning plan they thought they’d craft

And let him come inside

 

But to their shock, his old left style

Did not make members run a mile

Instead it made them raise a smile

And fight instead of hide

 

His rivals could not deal with Jez

So went to their friends in the press

And said “it’s really quite a mess”

“Don’t worry,” their friends sighed

 

“It’s Tories playing silly games”

“They only want to fan the flames”

The antis cried, and called Jez names

And rocks at him they shied

 

They said ‘he’s just a dinosaur’

But others said ‘Jez tell us more’

At hustings he just took the floor

The others seemed to hide

 

The more he spoke, the more they shook

He rarely let them off the hook

He read them like an old, old book

No secrets held inside

 

What could the anti-Jez lot do?

The game had turned, that much they knew

They even tried to plan a coup!

The others simply sighed

 

Nothing seemed to work at all

Their ratings seemed to fall and fall

No matter who they tried to call

No answers could they find

 

Could Labour members be so mad?

Surely Jez must be a fad?

Things can’t really be so bad

The odds he has defied

 

The Blairites soon began to panic

Their media-writing was almost manic

But they misunderstood the whole dynamic

They couldn’t turn the tide

 

“He’s old,” they cried, “he’s got a beard”

“He’s damaging”, they sneered and sneered

“He’s just the sort of man we feared”

Was what they felt inside.

 

They called on Blair, their old grandmaster

But this time he was a disaster

They couldn’t have made Jez rise faster

No matter what they tried.

 

What could they do? They cursed and cursed

The Corbyn balloon must be burst

Before things could get any worse

And he got in his stride

 

“The game” they said, “it must be stopped”

“The whole contest it must be dropped”

“A new idea we must adopt”

“New rules must be applied”

 

“This time” they said, “we’ll make quite sure”

“The likes of Jez are shown the door”

“And just the right people take the floor”

“Let that be our guide”

 

Will they win? Just time will tell

The whole thing now begins to smell

A stitch up we might just foretell

But can they stop the tide?

 

…to be continued…