This week I had a poem in The Spectator. Their humor contest asked for poems in the style of Gilbert & Sullivan beginning with the line, "I am the very model of a Very Stable Genius." My poem went like this:
I am the very model of a Very Stable Genius. To castigate my temperament is nasty, fake and hee-nius. There’s Lincoln and there’s Washington and other famous presidents Whom I would say I’m smarter than without a moment’s hesitance. I listen to my gut when it gives very fine advice to me. I make up clever names to pin on fools who are not nice to me. I only need to bark to drive my catty critics up a tree. I’m not the star of any show that features Putin’s puppetry. I understand there is a probe, and Mueller is conducting it, and fake news outlets like to lie and say I am obstructing it, but don’t they also say I am afflicted by senility? And wouldn’t that suggest that I am lacking culpability? I wish to be an emperor who sits atop a monarchy But first I need to tear things down and throw things into anarchy. Some say that I’m Hitlerian, or maybe Mussolini-ous, but no, I’m Trump, the model of a Very Stable Genius.