Sir Reginald Horner
Knelt in the corner
Worried about his career.
He feared he’d be late
For the Budget debate
But his Nanny was keeping him here.
In the House, with disdain
He’d rise up, to explain
That an increase in Health Service pay
While undoubtedly right,
Was not on, in the light
Of the fiscal position today.
Nanny Strict, with her feet up
Read, over her tea cup
Her paper: the politics page.
She was thinking of days
Lost in memory’s haze
As a staff-nurse, on minimum wage.
So she picked up her tawse
To prepare for a course
In arithmetic: “Stretch out your arm!”
‘Take a nurse’s base pay (thwack!)
Then take taxes away (thwack!)
And you’re left with a hot stinging palm!’
‘Here’s another quick sum
Take one fat fleshy bum
Add twelve strokes from a long rattan cane
Then if feeling contrition
You can check your addition
And add up the budget again.”
All the MPs were stunned
By Sir Reggie’s new fund
To pay nurses twice what they now earn.
Then he winced as he sat
And they wondered at that
What had led to this sudden U-turn?
“I just felt nurses’ pain”
He explained, in the rain
Interviewed, by the TV and press. This award, you might call It... a 'tribute', that's all I could not sit at ease giving less!” The rest is just history: Whatever the mystery That changed his decision back then. All the experts agree That this speech was the key To his new house in Downing St: ten. As PM he has access To experts on taxes, Defence, Home and Foreign Affairs. But he likes to defer For the last word, to… ‘her’: To his ‘Special Adviser’ upstairs. Noweverydecision’s Thrashedoutwith precision: The smack of firm government’s here. Yet bad luck for the Right (Who should cherish the sight): It’s theNannyStatethattheysofear. 
