In case you missed it, this year of 2011 heralds one more local election and we have two major candidates elbowing for position at the feeding trough of ratepayer misery – the ANC (or, as many like to call them, The New NP) and the DA (or, as others like to call them, the Desperate Alternative).
Going to the monthly kindergarten gathering of Councillors at the Wool Board has been a slight bit of a disappointment for me as the expected cut and thrust of politics – that of nimble word-smiths throwing out pithy sentences full of barbs have been few and so far between. Frankly a little bit of clever oration and aural blood would definitely spice things up a bit – “Councillors, you are being far too polite – let the ears flow with blood from your aural barbs and wit!”
But, never fear, young Dean Biddulph of Ward 2 fame – our defender of the faith, keeper of the realm and agitator deluxe was recently e-mailed the poem below by one Rick Dagless. My apologies in advance Rick’s mom but, for goodness sake, why did you marry a man with the surname DAGLESS? (It’s gotta be a non de plume, methinks – no-one is that cruel to burden their child with such a surname):
“Dean! Dean!”, I heard them scream
The crowds had gathered it would seem
And all and sundry wore their best
For he; their saviour, hallowed guest.
The men were solemn, women cried
In joy, as Deano sat astride
His mount – a horse so pure and white
A councillor in all his might.
“Hail, Plebs!”, he shouted out
To those who’d gathered thereabout
“Quit your caper, quit your dance,
No longer shall I watch you prance”
“Go and vote, vote for me
No more this ANC misery
Madiba was the end of all
Civil, yes, but wrong his call”
But then! Lo! The ANC!
Came sweeping down the hill; a sea
they resembled, vast and wide
A veritable savage tide.
Biddulph’s goatee; how it twitched
His trigger finger – gosh it itched!
Consternation marked his features
“Begone, you loathsome, horrid creatures!”
“Haibo!”, their leader cried
“I have since ’94 survived
On caviar, fast cars and tenders
No DA man shall cause surrender!”
Battle lines were drawn at length
And Deano, summoning all his strength
Advised his people there to flee
“I fear their animosity!”
So flee they did and ran away
To bide their time, another day
Would dawn to fight the rising tide
And in the meantime they could hide.
Back to his foxhole, Deano went
To pen sharp letters, have them sent
The Herald, full of moany type
Would gladly print his petty tripe.
And so election year does pass
Capitulate they did, en masse
The DA grouches, sullen now
“We shall return!” they quietly vow.
Rick Dagless
Alan Straton
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