“The Best Deal Possible”

I want the best deal possible

My government is working for the best deal possible

We shall not be contented till we get the best deal possible

We maintain negotiations for the best deal possible

The hand I have been dealt I hide behind my back

And lay it card by card using dark mirrors

No-one not even ‘they’ are certain who ends winners

In my going away, and yet not turning ‘them’ my back

Revisions and reversions, signal, follow on

Into a swamp where by your leave we wallow

We want the guest deal; I guess the rest we’ll swallow

We want the best - or else want a vest to borrow.

What should a deal superlative be looking like?

A bolthole to dishonest rights for moonlighters

As if it were a silly story and it had not happened?

Who was it smashed the looms that had preserved the pattern?

A best deal carries any deal we divvies ever get

An adverse deal likewise supplies a safe and best revet

The deal we get indeed will be the deal we get

Not a jot better

And nothing might be postured postulated any surer

So following the logic to the bitter final perjure

This deal behind my back I blithely play out using mirrors

I put no foot wrong nor shall leave the beaten swanny rivers

Of vacuous assertion which I farm out to the field

The same blunt instrument and self-inflicted wield

Has cooked my nation for a plate of stinking cabbage

By an adolescent judgement call –what great things might this presage!

I say the deal we get will be the very best

And having no deal other, my assertion to attest

The deal we get comes seeming neither more nor less

No better deal than were the deal a mercenary mess

Now that we have the art of passing-over saying nothing

In what we say, we shout across the board

Our call a drawl unanimous, filled-up with fluffy stuffing

What might our upper limit be to win a world!

Throw off our chains, end Brussels’ clowning capers

The straight banana? - up the EU’s a***

Our sovereign rights restored; our legislators?

Yeah! Go! Our legislators! They’re a proper blast!

We now being free to steal away the world,

Waft aery nothings, puff out wind, articulate by throat

Stand taken upon our word once more, once more big guns

And players in the marketplace of salient note

Haggling, we sing for supper; rags, routines, twopenny flutes

Measures and entertainments, slightly stooping cap–in-hand

Ranging our empty services, and parleying vapid plans

The wonder of this counterfactual age:

A pack of sorry couch potatoes seated on our hams