Wednesday, 24 January 2018

Question Time

This poem was inspired by two things: a wonderful poem called Glasgow Empire by Keith Hutson; and a rather jaundiced view of the eponymous BBC programme. I'm afraid it draws heavily on Keith's excellent poem, in term of form and structure, and pales in comparison. Any resemblance to persons living or dead having made an appearance on the programme is purely coincidental.

Question Time


Sure, it's the programme where a non-partisan
audience posed questions
and challenged the panellists,

where the Minister's ego briefly shone
then flickered down to fragment when
Dicky Dimble said, I'll ask you once again!

Where else would Jeremy Khunt
be forced to admit a lie, Pierced Organ
have to recant forced opinion?

That time Daffy Davies collapsed
on a point of principle, the crowd's
mocking derision lasted a full five minutes.

Even in Maydenhead, inquisition
reigned and railed, accusing and sharp.
Nah! It's the programme where variety choked

and died in temporary seats
full of voters tuned to their script,
unaware of the revolution.

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