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Chris Slade Apr 2020
Politicians, when questioned, who begin their answer with “So”... Those who waffle when questioned and yet they clearly don’t know.
Juggling “ums”, “erms” and “aahs” when struggling to avoid the truth.
It alienates, infuriates and generally makes those interviewed sound unprepared, uninformed, dense, almost uncouth.
But that doesn’t stop them!

The nation’s thirst for updates demands Government be contrite. Approaching difficult situations, yeh - but ours, dropping ******* left & right.
It means an address from a hapless minister almost every night.
Each department must have top aides quaking in their boots
because the media correspondents, incisive, sharp, erudite and firm
shoot tricky questions, deliberately, to make the politicos squirm.

It shines a light on what the country needs... clear thinking, logic common sense, honesty, truth, stealth and less guille.
Not subterfuge, not **** covering,“let’s dodge the bullet” style. Certainly not ten grand extra for having to work from home.
But sharper more contrition, put yourself in our place for a while! We want to be reassured, buoyed up, not consumed with bile.

You get more support and sympathy if you just tell the truth!
A poem based on the UK Government Press Briefings during Covid-19.
An awkward time
Red wine vinegar stained carpet seeping into the air.
Left behind to rot in the dry saturation,
      tasting the remains of the night befores guille words.
Carbonated cartwheels tucked into the trees,
     searching for the tranquil sun to take over the solicitude.
Absentmindedly stepping into an apathetic residual feeling,
        dipping deep into the youthless fountain of uncertainty,
           wading further, and further, and further through rocks and ******* of indecisiveness.

Sand squished between my toes,
     and I felt a warm, grounding sensation radiate throughout my body.
Feeling hot with temptation,
  stepping onward,
      Inward,
           dampening to the thigh of my floor length dress,
whirling in and out of a conscious mind.
An inquisitive voice surrounding my sanction halted the sacrificial deluge.
Waist deep in impassivity,
           I slip out of the fog filled heed,
and step onto more stable ground.

— The End —