Four years ago, I took charge
of a country that had forgotten
how to tie its shoe laces; a nation
that no longer knew where
its undergarments were;
the saddest little great country
on this small part of the planet
many of whose people
had woken up to find
themselves on lavatory seats
not of their own making,
and those who hadn’t
could feel something
cold against their faces
and, on opening their eyes, discovered
it was the pavement. With policies got
from the late Herbert Hoover’s crypt
to encourage a flowering of
pound shops all over the country,
we taught the people of Ireland
how to properly wipe
their own rear ends again.
Giving people the confidence
and security to clean themselves
in the privacy of their own bathrooms
is what this Government is all about.
I’m glad to say that some people
are experiencing this as I speak.
Many more don’t yet
have the confidence
to tear off the toilet paper
themselves, and still need our help.
And as my government enters
this new phase of
final collapse, I want to pay tribute
to our workers. Despite waves
of economic incontinence,
they went out each morning,
on anxious and galling days.
We have learned from our ridiculous past
only to make sure we repeat it.
When I look at myself
in the giant gold mirror
you bought me, I still
can’t quite believe I’m here,
And know very soon
I won’t be.