October’s Out Of Office, by Lorraine Weightman.
In a dark ancient wood under a bower of trees,
Almost hidden beneath the leaves,
Is an ancient door with no lock or key,
Decorated with symbols looking very like ‘B’s.
The door’s oval in shape with a circle inside,
In the centre a peephole, that looks like an eye.
I wonder what magic may lie there within,
I will find a way to let myself in.
There’s forty two ‘B’s displayed on the door,
While fourteen more resting, close to the floor.
It must be a sign, shall I knock all those times,
Or count to that number, or look for a rhyme?
It’s then that I see it, the puzzle is cracked,
The door is ajar, and there isn’t a latch.
As I push, it creaks open, and once I’m inside,
I’m greeted with laughter, now that’s a surprise.
There’s a throne in the distance, on it sits a nice guy,
He’s smiling and grinning, with cheeky wide eyes.
I creep two steps forwards so as not to disturb him,
As he turns round to face me, I see Andy Burnham.
He shakes my hand warmly, and invites me to stay,
In his Manchester Office for the rest of the day.
He shows me his plans to fix social care,
Slash electricity prices, then he made me a mayor.
I came back to Consett, with a large chain of office,
Popped into Greggs for some bread, with a sausage.
Then, with my pot full of available cash,
I rocked up to Wetherspoons, and went on the lash.
By Lorraine Weightman. Illustration: Fr John Bagnall
