I can think of no better occasion to recycle these lines dedicated to Donald Trump, from Lorna Wallace’s award-winning poem-in-the-style-of-Burns:
Poutin’, glaikit through this farce, His mooth wis pursed up like an arse, His Tangoed coupon glowin’ like A skelped backside.
Former scientist, now graduated to a life of leisure;
Family man (which may surprise the family - it certainly surprises him);
Likes cycling and old-fashioned B&W film photography;
Dislikes greasy-pole-climbing 'yes men';
Thinks Afterlife (previously known as Thea Gilmore) should be much better known than she is;
Values decency over achievement.
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