Structurally Unsound

O what can be the matter? Something threatening to shatter
Our Mother of all Parliaments to bits?
That cosy river palace with Imperial clock-phallus
Which stayed erect throughout the recent Blitz?
The joints are looking dodgy where a Member proud and podgy
Has sat and exercised his ample wits,
Sending belch of belly-laughter up to splinter tile and rafter
And frighten death-watch beetles into fits.

When fiscal roof is leaking and democracy is creaking,
A Member must be careful where he sits;
For the oratoric line has been in rather steep decline
Since your Gladstones, your Disraelis and your Pitts,
And outside a palace posh and full of antiquated tosh,
It really isn't easy, one admits,
To rule a grateful nation through the vocalised vibration
Of half a thousand bawling, braying twits.

Dicky Towers