a one hundred and thirteenth new poem ... 'nostalgia anthem'

The Queen

Smiled at the memory of

Gaddafi – God love him –

Shooting grouse

With a grenade launcher at

Balmoral and that hilarious

Game of splat-a-rat with

Blair – what a pussy. 

a one hundred and twelfth new poem ... 'gracious queen'

The Queen

Yawned as she tried to

Ignore Charles chuntering

Dimly, poshly, grimly

About his garden, this

Bush, that bush, plants, plants,

Frigging flowers, cabbages,

Crocuses, little prince George,

Pests, pesticides, ride on lawn

Mowers, stumps, trunks, axe

Murder. ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP!’

She yelled eventually and

Charles sniffed, loped back to his

Potting shed and collection of
Dead moths.

a one hundred and eleventh new poem ... 'noble queen'

The Queen

Mounted her trusty

Steed, Von Ribbentrop,

Dug her jack boots into

The animal’s guts and,

Together, they charged

At the revellers, all jodhpured

With booze on Buckingham

Palace lawn.

a one hundred and tenth new poem ... 'happy and glorious'

The Queen

Spat out a melch of

Claret flavoured

Chewing gum, stuck

It on the underside of

Her throne, belched and

Fished out a fag lighter

From the sovereign

Chaos of her handbag.

‘You there’, she said

To the trainee butler

Underneath her feet,

‘Fetch the Racing Post’...
She fancied a
Flutter.

a one hundred and ninth new poem ... 'long to reign over us'

The Queen

Found Prince Philip

Dishevelled and asleep

In the summer house –

Picked up her skirts

And weed on his trousered wooden

Leg. ‘I’ll strangle those

Dastardly dogs someday’,

The prince muttered

On waking from his

Crotchety slumber.

a one hundred and eighth new poem ... 'send her victorious'

The Queen

Accused the Royal

Postman of barking and

Growling at her corgis -

Kicked him in the

Gob for his troubles.