Wednesday, 9 April 2014

April 9: What a bloody tosser ...


Robert Carr has penned a tale, telling us he is the Holy Grail
He’s our Foreign Minister, flying here and there, flying bloody everywhere
Complains of things so mundane, just what is going on inside that brain?
Singapore Airlines sent back a letter, sorry that First Class was not better

No jammies for our man to wear, I cannot perceive the depth of his despair
He had to slumber in his Armani suit, he must have felt almost destitute
Upgrades to First were so depressing; those stupid rules just window dressing
I should be up front right from the start, and when we arrive, first to depart

The Foreign Minister is who I be, you people should be fawning me
I’m the most important man you’ll ever meet; Kissinger got me into his retreat
And the G20 meeting I did chair so clever, I am the best chairman ever
On the world stage Bob’s his own hero, but to most of us he’s down near zero

A six-pack belly is what he desired, to be like Putin and Obama he aspired
His book’s a self-absorbed expośe, of things of yourself you should not say
But ever watchful, he saw the end, and bailed from the party he could not defend
A total wanker, would you not say, a thorough prima donna on full display

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