I hob-nob with Tom, Dick and Hosni
Or watch all the TV repeats
Vladimir rings about Grozny
I keep my head under the sheets
Proportional representation
Means nothing, at least, not a lot
Having witnessed the birth of a nation
I snuggle down here in my cot
In exile, the greatest of joys is
To read the reports from my pollster
This island is not full of noises
With my head buried deep in a bolster
I've told myself, Rest. And I do so
Now the country is out of all danger
I feel just like Robinson Crusoe
Swaddled up in a luxury manger
VIPs, ordinary people
May splutter and sniff at my folly
But I am their church and their steeple
I advise them to stay on their trolley
