Bard Billot on mayoral flop Beck
The Great Battle
Lo, it was a mighty battle.
Long will it be remembered
in the songs of the bards of our land:
The Battle of the Centre Right,
in the mythical land of Tāmaki Makaurau.
It was a long campaign, hardy and mean,
as bands of mercenaries roamed
the Wastelands of Epsom,
the Northern Shore, the Viaduct,
ambushing, poisoning, boxing ears
and giving out grievous Chinese burns.
Smoke covers the bloodied field.
Lo! Leo of Molloy has fallen,
after lopping off both his own feet
with his battle sword Hospo Legend.
Lo! Lady Viv the Fair has fallen,
entangled in thorny brambles,
brought down by a great serpent
from the Swamp of Campaign Consultants.
Lord Craig the Obscure is engaged
in a separate skirmish with drunken ruffians
who have crashed their chariot
into a nearby outhouse.
Sir Wayne of the House of Brown
scurries over the battle field
busily pilfering spare votes
from the pockets of the fallen.
Yea, and up on the hills to the left
from his coign of vantage,
High Chief Efeso sits on his deckchair
with a pair of binoculars and cup of sweet tea
and watches the battle with interest,
for sooner or later,
he knows he may have to
reluctantly get involved.