What better target for satiric verse than politicians using focus groups to develop policy.
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Cheers
Bernie
How they Brought the Good News from Focus Groups
Bernard Browning Dowling
(Gallup is one of
Australia’s busiest political pollsters.)
I sprang to the mobile, and
Tony, and she;
I Galluped, Jools Galluped, we Gallluped all three;
‘Good speed!’ cried the Whip, as the poll date near grew;
‘Speed!’ echoed the Press to us Galluping through;
Behind sits the Speaker, his tights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we Galluped abreast.
I Galluped, Jools Galluped, we Gallluped all three;
‘Good speed!’ cried the Whip, as the poll date near grew;
‘Speed!’ echoed the Press to us Galluping through;
Behind sits the Speaker, his tights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we Galluped abreast.
Not a word to each other; we ran the poll
race
Neck by neck, stride by stride, ever changing our place;
I turned in my muddle and made its grabs tight,
Then shortened each sentence, and set the pitch right,
Rekindled the cheap shot, stained blacker the wit,
Nor Galluped less readily Tony a bit.
Neck by neck, stride by stride, ever changing our place;
I turned in my muddle and made its grabs tight,
Then shortened each sentence, and set the pitch right,
Rekindled the cheap shot, stained blacker the wit,
Nor Galluped less readily Tony a bit.
By half-way, Jools groaned; and cried Tony,
‘Quick slur!
‘Your Labs Galluped bravely, the fault’s but in her.’
She’ll remember the day for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering freeze,
And comeback, and straight’ning steel of her face,
As up from her haunches she re-joined the race.
‘Your Labs Galluped bravely, the fault’s but in her.’
She’ll remember the day for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering freeze,
And comeback, and straight’ning steel of her face,
As up from her haunches she re-joined the race.
‘How
they’ll greet us!’—and all in a moment my phone
Rolled neck and crook over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my mobile to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Oz from her fate,
With my nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for my eye-sockets’ rim.
Rolled neck and crook over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my mobile to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Oz from her fate,
With my nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for my eye-sockets’ rim.
And all I remember is,
friends flocking round
As I sat with my head ‘twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this failure of mine,
As I poured down my throat our last measure of wine,
Which the tacticians misreading a Galluping jerk
As I sat with my head ‘twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this failure of mine,
As I poured down my throat our last measure of wine,
Which the tacticians misreading a Galluping jerk
Said no more than my due
who sought good news not work.
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