[Jerome Betts]

At the bottom of an old pewter quart tankard, among the things I've just come across is a tiny undated newspaper cutting with the following by Quintin Hogg (1907-2001) the half-American UK politician who nearly became Prime Minister in 1963 when Harold Macmillan resigned.

While rehearsing her part, that of Puck,
A Shakespearean actress got stuck
But, not having heard
Of that four-letter word,
She merely remarked, 'What bad luck!'

[John Whitworth]

Qunitin Hog, who was Lor Hailsham twice, was a poet, as was Enoch Powell. President Carter wrote poetry. So did Harold Wilson's wife. And the General Secretary of the Trades Union Congress. Giants inhabited the earth in those days.

I wonder if Nigel Farage could do a limerick.

[Nigel Mace]

As a limerick writer Farage,
Sought escape in this strange camouflage,
When reporters asked,“Why?”
He could only reply,
“Have you met UKIP's mad entourage?”

[Adrian Fry]

There's a future Speccie comp in here somewhere. Lots of unexpected people write poems - Stalin and Mao both did - and why shouldn't they?

[Brian Allgar]

Odd that you should say that, John, as I have just received a curious communication from Mr. Farage's press office:

Hi, I’m Nige, patriotic and strong;
Vote for me, and you cannot go wrong.
(But if you are black,
We’ll be sending you back
To the place where you really belong.)

[Brian Allgar]

Originally Posted by Adrian Fry

There's a future Speccie comp in here somewhere. Lots of unexpected people write poems - Stalin and Mao both did - and why shouldn't they?

Or a past one, Adrian. Take a look at Speccie 2858, where once again, I inexplicably failed to win.

[John Whitworth]

Oh ye ogf little faith!

Nigel 'Kipper' Farage is so stellar
He is really one helluva feller.
When he’s calling the shots
He will see off the Scots
With a flick of his golfing umbrella.

[Jerome Betts]

Nigel F's a political hoker,
A populist chancer and joker
Supported by squads
Of absurd odds and sods
And should have remained just a broker.

[Charlie Southerland]

Who in the hell is Farage?
I've looked for 'im in my garage.
There's piles of his books and papers,
still enough to staunch my vapors,
after shatting my daily corsage.

[John Whitworth]

Millibum, Cleggers and Dave,
A liar, a fool and a knave
Our Nigel’s the bloke
With a pint and a smoke
Who can show them the way to behave.