GIFTS GALORE

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by Jacqui Mount 

It was Christmas Eve in the White House and the First Lady was trimming the tree,

Whilst the President wrapped up the presents for his friends who were coming to tea.

Gordon and Tony and Mandy from New Labour's fraternity,

David with Boris and Hesiltine, the Tory's true blue three.

He'd taken a while to make up his mind what to give this motley crew,

It's so easy to risk a big mistake when the whole world is watching you.

A book for Gordon on how to charm the birds right off the tree,

Then a disc of the anthem for Europe though Blair lost the Presidency.

Lord Peter should love the flowery silk shirts, all so bright and gay,

Just what he'll want to take with him on his Bangkok holiday.

A trampoline for David C. but he'll have to take great care,

Looking cool is not quite right when you're rising on hot air.

Boris has some thin royal blood trickling through his veins,

So he's getting a gold sprayed tin coronet to go with his Mayoral chain.

A helicopter kit for Michael H. to remind him of the time

When Maggie tried to force him to toe the party line.

At last Obamah puts them in place beneath the Christmas tree,

His canny wife patted his hand and said to him with glee -

'That's cracked the British political nuts, so lets have them in right now,

I've just got to see who it is that makes the lowest formal bow.'

At four o'clock the security guards ushered in the guests,

They'd all been frisked out in the hall right down to their vests.

Boris appeared a bit awry – but he always looked like that,

Lord Peter quite enjoyed it – well he is that sort of a chap.

Hesiltine just stood his ground when they groped in his lion's mane,

Blair's red pants were autographed in case they'd forgotten his name.

Of course they knew who David was his undies were coloured bright blue,

But Gordon caused the greatest stir, his were tartan through and through.

They enjoyed the tea , the White House staff has gone right over the top,

With fairy cakes for Peter and shortbread for the Scot.

Chocolate eclaires for Tony Blair, they'd initialled every one,

While David's cucumber sandwiches were so very Etonian.

Chelsea buns and Victoria sponge made Boris feel at home,

And finally for Michael H. a plate of too hot to handle scones.

Their cups were filled again and again, then the crackers pulled,

They wore their paper hats with glee acting like kids off school,

Pretending they were best of friends which of course could never be,

But just for once they played their part in this political fantasy.

The time had come to drop the masks and see the reality

That lay behind the invite to the White House Christmas Eve tea.

Presents exchanged, handshakes shared, kisses in the air

But who will be the ones invited to come back again next year?