I done a song. Somewhat belatedly.
Luckily, the target's episodes of foot-in-mouth disease appear frequent enough to render this current again at any moment, and at frequent occasions over the foreseeable future.
The terrible production values and lacklustrre pianistic miming, they come for free...
With apologies to N. Coward...
A Bloom with a view, that you,
Can say that foreign aid is there
For fancy cars and fashion wear
In some Bongo Land
He lives in a past, where ghastly
Views are acceptable
Buffoons are quite electable,
in his merry band.
He'd be so happy if our women were seen and never heard
And giving them employment's absurd.
For Bloom has a view, that you,
Can patronise your womenfolk
Comment on their tits and joke,
Like in times of yore,
An era when men, were men-
And now express astonishment
That we now deplore
Those old opinions once so current, but now have lost their vim,
Like empire and corduroy, and him,
He'll bluster and blow, but no enlightenment will ever come,
Enlightenment will never come to, the Bloom with a view.