On the resignation of Theresa May

Apologies, once more, to E.J. Thribb (aged 17½)

So. Farewell
Then Mrs May.
Nothing in your job
Became you like your
Leaving of it.
You shed hot tears of grief
In Downing Street –
Not for the thousands
Of victims of your
Callous policies,
But for yourself.
Well, at least you proved
You’re not
A bot!

If you are remembered
At all,
It will be for
Abject failure,
Colossal stupidity
And that peculiar stance –
Yet pigeon-toed,
Yet bandy,
In designer trouser-suits
And kitten-heels.
Do you not possess
A mirror?

The jury is out
On whether or not
You are
The worst UK
Prime Minister of
All time –
There being
For the title.

Now you can relax,
Go shopping,
Further assist Mr Farage,
And take walking holidays
With your mute beard.
If I were you
I’d give Snowdonia a miss:
It’s a hostile environment.