unqualified

What is it about power
When handed to the hapless
That turns them into vicious
Uncaring morons

Part of me wants to travel into
The future and see them
Shitting their pants
And dribbling into bibs
In front of day time tv and
Ask them if it was all worth it

I’ll probably be
Dribbling, farting, shitting
And screaming next to them
So I’ll ask them then

In the meantime
I’ll do the british thing
And moan about them
Anonymously on
Internet message boards