Jacques Chirac smokes Cuban cigars in the Bay of Pigs

Oi, good ole Jacques Chirac
he went to Agincourt, then to Avignon,
before the fall of Rome to the Visigoths
ruminated on the Olympic Games
and decided to see a whore of virtue
sent a Scud missile, then decided to call it back,
from the Suez Canal, where the French once fell,
on horseback to Pharaoh's mighty armies,
red-head, frog prince, Kermit and Harry crabs
sinking into a sea of devilry some say
reminds them of the Bay of Pigs
and fiascos and fights for Olympic glory...

So Jacques Chirac says to Sebastian Coe :
We French, we eat zee snails
whilst you have those bangers and mash,
measly fish and chips ... wot kind of cuisine, is it?
So Sebastian says with a wry smile :
Well, Agincourt you lost and so did Waterloo
Where is Napoleon now, if not in a zoo
astride Animal Farm where we battled for glory
the Queen of Spain was there, so you cannot
retreat into the Garden of Eden
and raise an army with the Jack of Spades
who is now with Gordon McQueen
and the Queen of Scots
waiting to wage battle against the Red Dragon.

Oi, Sebastian, wot iz thou talking about?
I am just making a wry statement on black rye and blue cheese
Forgive me my wryness, I was born with a wooden spoon,
not a golden goblet with French curtains
and the blood of Marie Antoinette
lingering in the shadows of Death
The French had their revolution,
we had ours too,
you lost your kings and your queens
We have the Jack of Spades
back in Buckingham Palace
disguised to tease the tinpot dictator
who now rules Animal Farm ...

So Mr Pilkington returns home
and Jacques Chirac grumbles at the back of a Cadillac
driven by vincent van patten
who invites him to a casino up on a bloody hill
to play poker with the Queen of Tarts ...

Jacques declines,
I am no tart, he retaliates,
and vincent wonders who's the Fool of Burgundy
and the sinner of Avignon
who's the Beast and who's the Red Dragon
and who should go for a bloody liposuction
just who has Authority to raid and reign
a bloody republic that masquerades as the Middle Kingdom ...

In 1819, St John appeared to Polycarp
who had a colony of puffin penguins
in a brazen sea of ale
nothing to show besides works of mercy
no grand theory to promote or justify one's glory
just a happy spirit and a generous soul
that could be quite bold
if forced to defend
a Realm of Innocence ...

Jacques Chirac now flies to the Bay of Pigs,
after the tsunami hits the west of Java
we must float our diamonds
and wear all our baubles
lest terrorists massacred our fine Bastille
and though German shepherds remain dumb
in this glorious fight for truth
the French must not refuse a chance
to regain some proof of sanity
from the waters of the Red Nile
in 1865
when the Gates of Hell
became entwined with pride and prejudice
and made empires bend with grief
over a bloody canal
carrying black gold to Tiananmen Square
where there's so much liberty
they hang liberty flags in the Imperial Palace
to signify a warming of ties
with the yankee doodles of the Gulag Archipelago ...

Now Jacques retreats to Rome
and begs for indulgences
whilst smoking a Cuban cigar
in St Peter's Square,
fearing an unholy Inquisition
beyond the reach of the Spanish Armada
where Turkish wrestlers wage battle with Red Guards
from Tianamen Square
quarrelling over Sinkiang's slavery
for a barrel of opium ...