The IDS “If”

IF you can stay in post when all about you

Are being sacked and blaming it on you,

If you resign as Cameron starts to doubt you,

And claim some compensation, lucky you;

If you can hate and not be tired by hating,

Or being talked about, respond in lies,

Or being loved, just don’t give way to loving,

And yet keep cool and watchful, staying wise;

If you can scheme and make those schemes your master,

If you can plot – and backstab as a game,

Then trumpet Triumph and obscure Disaster,

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can’t bear to hear the words you’ve spoken,

Described by staff as bullshit, lies and worse,

Or watch the ATOS that you so loved broken,

Then stoop and start again with Maximus

If you can burn the heap of all your shreddings,

Then format hard drives, covering your tracks,

And win, as those onside attend your weddings,

And never breathe a word of their paybacks;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To twist the knife ’til every scrounger’s dead,

And so keep stabbing when there’s nothing in you

Except the will which says to them: ‘Dickhead!’

If you can talk with crowds pretending virtue,

Or meet with Queens to clutch your CBE,

If neither foes nor sycophants can hurt you,

And simple “plebs” miss your hypocrisy;

If you can dodge our lame, forgiving judges

With six long years of failure, lies and mess

Yours is ‘Success!!’, no tricks, no cheats, no fudges,

And – which is more – you’ll be an IDS !

with apologies to Rudyard…