The Minister slipped.
Not the normal slip-up
Which can be covered up
With spin and gloss
And apologies from the boss
In private deals...
Wheels within wheels...
A handshake and it's all forgot -
It's politic, whether fair or not.
This slip was a pane in the glass;
A drip of pink champagne
And the designer coffee table
Went straight to his head.
He came crashing down,
Arm first to protect his
Empty head and back-bench face.
His wrist was slit - and life leaked,
Founted, as if relieved to escape.
He died alone.
As a result, he was replaced -
A hard-nosed fascist,
Hard-on for profit -
He rose through the ranks -
The darling of banks.
His cruelty lauded,
Capitalism applauded...
With the leadership awarded
As history recorded,
His crimes upon the citizens
Corrupt, immoral, sordid.
All this befell for one mischance...
And how did it begin?
The fate of millions changed upon
One smallish tube of skin.
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