It’s not the CIA, or indeed the Gestapo
The PM is troubled by Time and WaPo
He can handle quite well cocky local journos
But not, dear reader, overseas infernos.
So he must douse the fire, ASAP
The image abroad is critical, you see!
Citizens may scream, protest or tweet
They can petition online, shout on the streets
They are nattering city boys, not rural voters
(and some instigated by the Tribe of the Lotus!)
Middle-class barbs are just for drawing rooms
Tis the village that matters when elections loom!
But the matter of the phoren scribe, is something else
The Cambridge don must find out what that tells
the investor abroad, or Davos-bound elite
the G-20 high table, and UN whatchamacallit
A fire must thus be fought, as fires truly are
Efforts must be made to whiten the tar!
Tragic figure, did he say, this wretched Simple Simon?
Greek Tragedy in Mahabharata? Oh, really? Come on!
He gets his epics mixed up, this ruminating Brit
We must challenge his words, and question his grit
So the PM clarifies, seeks an apology
Breaks his silence a bit, for the sake Sonia-ji!