Acts

Act I

Throw the poorest some personal allowance rises
Like crumbs to the pigeons.
Let them squawk and cluster
Flapping in a frenzy
For grains in the dust.

Act II

Pander to the angry mob that is
Drivers and drinkers.
"A duty to reduce", you say, but
The smokers have to cough up again.
But for every give there is a take
For once in a politician's life
Left knows what the right is doing.
And stealth tax rises form
Wraith-like on the edge of the dispatch box.

Act III

Now comes the meat
In thick juicy steaks dripping
With the blood of the vulnerable
Tossed out to the wolf packs of privilege
Breaks and subsidies
Lowered rates and loopholes
Keep the thirsty donors sated
For they are the true electorate.

      [exuent with a flourish of your magician's coat
       and a puff of smoke]