Welcome to the sunlit uplands

of total rhubarb, England's 

fastest growing cash crop.

(Too bad there's no one left to pick it). 

 

Fertilised by inverted pyramids

of piffle, or should that be 

de Pfeffel? Where Afghan hounds

matter more than Afghans. 

 

And talking of animals, did even

the Cheshire Cat wear 

such a self-satisfied smirk? 

As tourists flock to Barnard Castle

 

our resistance is low, 

weakened by revelations

of parties, lies, chicanery.

It's getting desperate.

 

Our only hope of rescue

is a lone ranger,

or failing that,

someone called Sue Gray.  

 

Let's console ourselves. Not

with cake but pudding:

rhubarb with orange and ginger

in a crumble or a fool.