What will they say of you in future times? Were they duped by your duplicity or did you fall on your double-edged sword? Was the devil we knew any better than the unknown?
The future has a way of arriving early. Are you ready now, for what it yet may bring? Will you be knighted, or, benighted and beleaguered, Fall fallow by the wayside of your ways?
Will the name of Cameron carry on, Whatever else is lost or left behind? Will David slay the apocolyptic giant of global warming, yet terminate the service of National Health?
Was it wealth, or a poverty of emotional maturity that led to such flotations and privatisations? what sensations did you feel, did you reach referendum, did you feel the earth move?
We never saw your manifesto made manifest. We, the voters who voted not for you, yet saw you rise, anticipate your fall. Do promises count as any kind of plan?
And the future is arriving post-haste, like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Elections have a way of arriving early. We are ready, with a big sharp X.